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reciprocityfic · 3 years

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#12 for AmyxLaurie

12. an exchange of gifts or mementos.

They leave Orchard House late that first night, long after the sun has set. Even Mr. Laurence - or rather, Grandfather, as the older man had corrected her gently but insistently several times throughout the evening - had stayed the entire time, and the three of them are ushered out of the house with warm words and soft hugs. She kisses both Daisy and Demi once more on their foreheads as the twins sleep - Daisy on her father's shoulder and Demi on his mother's - and then, it's time to go.

She feels something significant as she passes over the threshold and steps out into the comfortably cool air, something tugging at her heart. She knows she's not leaving the house behind for good; Hannah invited them over for breakfast the next morning, for heaven's sake.

She'd always considered her trip to Europe the effective end of her childhood. And if that hadn't been enough, the death of her sister and her marriage to Laurie had each matured her in their own way: one ripped off and broke the rose-colored glasses through which she'd viewed her youth, and the other turned her head from darkness to the light of all the wonderful things that lie ahead.

But still, there's something about this moment, about leaving the home that isn't quite her home anymore. She looks up at the large white house looming across the street, and the tugging grows harder. It isn't bad, she supposes. It's just...heavy.

She's nervous.

A million what-ifs prepare to run themselves through her brain, but then Laurie pulls her close, loops their arms together. She looks up at him, and he's staring down at her wearing a curious expression, the planes of his face lit up by the light spilling out of the still-open doorway.

"Are you alright?" he asks gently.

She nods, leans over and places a kiss on his shoulder in response. He smiles slowly at her, and then motions with his head across the street.

"Let's go home."

And suddenly, the weight inside her is lifted, the what-ifs stopped in their tracks and replaced instead with wishes and dreams of all that is to come. She smiles back at him, and now feels as if she could fly.

They start down the path together, and even though the door closes behind them and the candlelight shining from inside disappears, the grins on their faces light up the night and illuminate their way.

***

Grandfather hovers awkwardly with them in the foyer for about three minutes before quickly bidding them goodnight. Amy blushes. Laurie just barely waits to hear the click of his grandfather's bedroom door closing before bursting into a laugh. She rolls her eyes, and nudges him playfully for laughing at her expense, which only makes him chuckle again. After a moment of stubborn defiance, she joins him. She can't help it; his laughter - his joy - is infectious.

As their laughter begins to die down, he leans down and kisses her once before reaching for her hand and taking a step towards the stairs.

"Shall we, my lady?"

"We shall, my lord," she murmurs lowly.

His eyes rake over her in a way she's rapidly learned the meaning of. Her pulse quickens, and in no time he's pulling her towards the stairs once again. They nearly jog as they make their way upstairs, and she almost trips over her skirts in their haste. They both laugh again, the sound filling the quiet halls of the Laurence residence.

Once their feet hit the second floor, however, they slow down. He turns his body towards her and takes her other hand, too, beginning to lead her to the bedroom. Her eyes never leave his face, a small smile just turning up the corners of her mouth. He only turns and drops her hands so that he can open the door, and then steps aside, letting her enter first. She walks in, and then pauses, letting her eyes wander around the room. She hears him come in behind her, and shut the door.

The room is dark, so she can’t make out details. She sees the moonlight shining in through the window, her luggage from Europe stacked in the far corner. Her eyes land on the large bed in the middle of the room; she can’t help it. Suddenly, his lips press softly against the nape of her neck, and her eyes close.

“You can make whatever changes you like,” he murmurs against her skin. “And not just in this room, either. I want you to make the whole house your own.”

“We’ll make it our own,” she tells him, opening her eyes and turning towards him. “The two of us.”

“Together,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him.

“Always, my lord,” she confirms, before pressing herself to him more closely. “But right now, I have other things on my mind.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully before leaning down to kiss her, a smile on his face.

“I like the way you think, my wife.”

Their lips touch in a gentle kiss that quickly becomes heated as he opens his lips and slips his tongue inside her mouth. She’s just settling into the kiss, and is about to move her fingers to the buttons of his waistcoat when he freezes, and pulls away from her abruptly.

She looks at him in confusion and disappointment, a frown on her face.

“Wait,” he tells her, looking over her shoulder. “Wait right here.”

She makes a noise of protest in the back of her throat as he moves from her, but doesn’t disturb him further; it’s as if he’s on a mission as he opens a closet near the back of the room. He moves a few odd things, opens a drawer and pulls something out of it before closing the closet and turning around.

He walks towards her, and she can sense a certain nervousness in the slowness of his steps. It’s dark, and she can’t tell what he’s holding to his chest.

“Amy,” he whispers when he stops in front of her, the look in his eyes serious, but full of love.

She’s about to ask him what’s going on when he presents the item in his hands to her. She can see it well enough now, and her breath catches.

It’s a jewelry box.

“Amy,” he says again, lowering to one knee. “My love, my life, my wife. My Amy.”

She can feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes, and she waits for him to continue, speechless.

“I know we’re already married,” he begins, “and that we’ve already made our promises and declarations. And maybe this seems a bit silly, but I want to do this, because I want you. I want all of you - your heart and your soul - everyday, for always.”

He fumbles with the box, but gets it open, and takes out the piece of jewelry inside. He reaches out for her left hand, drops the jewelry in her palm, and closes her fingers around it. He holds her fist there, placing the now-empty box on the floor and cradling her hand in both of his.

“I love you,” he declares ardently. “I love you, wholly and completely. With my entire being. And it would be the greatest honor - my life’s greatest work - to spend the rest of my life loving you, if you’ll allow it.”

He releases her fist, and she opens her fingers, finding the most beautiful ring resting in her hand. It’s gorgeous - gorgeous - of course, but it wouldn’t matter even if it wasn’t. He could give her a ring made of paper and paste, and she’d still accept it with all the happiness in the world.

“It was my mother’s,” he tells her. “If - if you don’t like it, we can get something different. Something you can pick out yourself.”

“It’s perfect,” she assures him. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Yes?” he asks, a smile blossoming on his face.

“Yes,” she confirms breathlessly, a tear falling from the corner of her eye.

She hands the ring back to him, and she sees bewilderment flash across his face briefly before she presents him with her left hand.

“Will you, my lord?”

He grins again.

“It would be my pleasure, my lady.”

He takes her hand, kissing her bare ring finger once before sliding on the ring. She flexes her fingers; it’s a perfect fit.

She grabs his shoulders and nearly tugs him up into a standing position, and he laughs. She doesn’t give him time to recover before she’s on him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. He kisses her back, moves her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Now, Mrs. Laurence,” he says, and she smiles against his mouth. “I do believe we were in the middle of something before I so rudely interrupted us.”

She pulls back from him and hums, tapping her finger against her chin.

“I can’t seem to remember what it was, Mr. Laurence.”

“Well, then,” he says, pushing on her shoulders gently but purposefully until she falls backwards. She yelps and then laughs as her back hits the mattress. “I suppose I’ll have to remind you.”

He goes to crawl on top of her, but she holds him at arms’ length briefly, her hands on his face. She beams up at him, her new ring glimmering in the moonlight.

“I love you, Laurie,” she murmurs, her fingers running down the bridge of his nose before landing on his lips.

He kisses her fingertips before answering.

“As I love you, Amy.”

They smile at each other, the joyful energy between them palpable. She pulls on him once again, collapsing him on top of her, and they continue on together into the night.

send me a number and a pairing (preferably laurie x amy) and i'll write you a mini fic!

#amy x laurie #laurie x amy #little women #little women 2019 #amy march #theodore laurence #god i'm long winded #there was a whole other section i wanted to add to this but it would've put it over 2k words #anyways ilu anon i hope u enjoy this!#anons are beautiful #thank you for the ask!#long post

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doc-pickles · 3 years

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all's well that end well to end up with you (p.2)

Welcome back to part two of this fic! If you missed part one it’s right here! enjoy!!

xoxo nina

The absolute last thing Jo had expected when she came to New York for a medical conference was running into her ex-husband. It should’ve been on her radar, Arizona was headlining the conference, but she hadn’t thought that Alex would be interested in maternal-fetal medicine. Yet there they were, staring at each other across a crowded hotel lobby. Arizona interrupts her train of thought, welcoming her and gushing about how excited she is that Jo is now an OB.

“I have to run but I see your husband over there,” if Arizona registers her shock she doesn’t show it. “Good to see you, Jo!”

As soon as Arizona is out of sight Jo finds herself marching up to Alex and slapping his arm, “Ow! What was that for?”

“What was that for? Arizona just called you my husband,” Alex flinches and Jo can’t help rolling her eyes at him. “You didn’t tell her?”

“It never came up.” “Alex! It’s been three years,” at the mention of their separation reality seems to sink in around Alex and Jo. They haven’t seen each other in three years, not since Jo dropped him off at the airport. “Hi.”

“Hey. You look… wow,” Alex realizes his blunder almost immediately, stuttering over his words as he tries to correct himself. “Sorry, uh, about Arizona. I’m scared she’s going to hit me for letting you get away. Which, fair enough, you know?”

Jo takes Alex in fully for the first time. His hair is a bit grayer but he looks good with his sun-kissed skin and toned arms. He’s dressed in a button-up and slacks and in other circumstances, Jo would find him devilishly handsome.

“Yeah, you’d have to be pretty stupid to let this get away,” Jo sends a subtle wink Alex’s way and watches as he sighs in relief. “So what are you doing at an MFM conference anyway?”

“My hospital is opening a brand new neonatal and MFM wing so the board decided that the chief and some of our surgeons should come out and learn a bit more. It also helps that Arizona taught me everything I know,” Alex nervously rubs the back of his neck, watching Jo carefully. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m an OB now,” the shocked expression on Alex’s face makes Jo giggle. “I know but after… Well after everything that happened I needed some change, something to make me happy. So I switched to OB, adopted a baby, and dyed my hair blonde. The blonde didn’t stick but the baby and the career switch did.”

There’s an overhead announcement for the start of the conference, people moving inside all around them. Everyone else seems to fade away though as Jo and Alex meet eyes again. He’s wearing that dumbstruck look that he wore when she dressed or after she said I love you or when they’d lay in bed together. Despite the years and distance between them, Alex still wears the undeniable look of love he always did when he looked at Jo.

“I gotta find Carina but… I’ll see you around?” Alex nods, still entranced with Jo as she turns to walk away. Their interaction is brief but it makes her crave Alex all the more.

Late that night Jo finds herself alone at the hotel bar. Carina had initially joined her but had gone back to their room to call Maya and their daughter. Jo is about to head up herself when someone sits on the stool next to her.

“Jack and coke for me and a whiskey sour for my friend here.”

Jo’s head whips up in surprise as Alex settles down next to her, a smirk gracing his lips, “It’s still a whiskey sour right?”

“Yeah thank you,” Jo nods to the bartender as he hands her the drink. “So… we’re friends now?”

“I’d like to hope so,” Alex picks up his glass and Jo gladly toasts him. “To new beginnings”

“To new beginnings.”

Alex and Jo sit together and discuss what’s changed for them. There’s no awkwardness or hostility like Jo might have thought. Instead, it genuinely feels like catching up with an old friend. She talks about Luna and proudly shows a video of the young girl counting to 10 in Spanish. Alex brings up a photo from Izzie’s wedding of himself squished between Eli and Alexis, all three bearing matching crooked smiles and bright eyes. Jo can’t help the swell of pride that mounts in her chest at the sight. Eli looks more like Alex but she can still see the Karev shining through Alexis as well. For a moment she wonders, goes through the what-ifs, but she quickly pushes them down.

“I think I’m gonna head up but I really enjoyed catching up,” Alex leans down, pressing a kiss to Jo’s cheek. Her skin flames up under his delicate touch and she knows she’s wearing a deep blush. “Goodnight Jo.”

“You missed.”

“What?”

“You missed,” Jo leans up, her fingers brushing Alex’s cheek as she pulls him down into a deep kiss. She brings her other hand up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, sighing contentedly as his hands find her waist and pull her flush against him. She pulls back only slightly, leaning her forehead against Alex’s. “Are you still leaving?”

“Not without you I’m not,” the words sound so natural as Jo melts into Alex’s embrace, his arms wrapping fully around her. Their lips meet in a chaste kiss before they’re stumbling out of the bar, not drunk enough to blame their actions on the alcohol but just enough to begin to heal the open wounds of their failed relationship.

Everything after that comes naturally, the lost lovers escaping upstairs and falling into bed with practiced ease. Jo feels right at home in Alex’s bed, both of them remembering each other’s bodies as if they’d never parted. Neither of them thinks twice about the pillow talk they share after or the way they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms. It’s not until the next morning when Jo answers her phone that she realizes things are amiss.

“Mmm hello?”

“Thank goodness, I thought you were dead.”

“Carina?”

“Where are you? You missed the first speaker of the day.”

Jo bolts up in bed, finally realizing where she is. Alex’s arms snake out and around her waist, his gruff voice slightly muffled by his pillow, “Come back to bed, I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Carina I’m going to grab a shower and I’ll be down as soon as possible.” There’s a light laugh on the other side as Carina confirms Jo’s plan, “I’m glad you’re having fun, Jo.”

Jo hangs up, jumping out of bed and searching for her clothes in a rush to get out the door. Her frantic pace brings Alex out of his sleepy stupor as he rubs his eyes and watches her, “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Well it’s 10:30 so I already missed the lecture on in utero surgery,” Alex rolls over, groaning when he sees that Jo is correct. “I’m hoping I can fit in a shower before Arizona goes on.”

Once she’s finally dressed Jo walks back to Alex, her lips brushing over his lightly before she pulls him in for a sweet and sensual kiss. She watches him for a moment, taking in the shocked look on his face, “What?”

“Why aren't you mad at me? I left you.”

“I forgave you a long time ago for that Alex,” Jo runs her fingers across his cheek, meeting his eyes with a serious stare. “As soon as I held Luna I understood why you did what you did. I knew that if I felt that way about a baby that wasn’t even mine yet that you couldn’t leave two kids who were half you. I always knew you would be a fantastic dad. Even if it wasn’t with me I’m glad that you got that.”

Jo presses one more chaste kiss to Alex’s lips, leaving him staring dumbfounded at her, “Can I come back tonight?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex seemingly ignores Jo’s last statement, looking up at her with a sorrowful expression. “Leaving you… leaving you was my biggest mistake. I love my kids but you were everything. You’re still everything. And I know you say that you forgave me but I never apologized. I’m so sorry Jo, you didn’t deserve how I left you.”

There’s an amicable silence as Jo and Alex just stare at each other, both of them with tears welling in their eyes. There’s not much else to say, but they both know that their newfound relationship wouldn’t end with the weekend.

It's three weeks after Alex‘s surprise weekend visit to Seattle and Jo has never felt so terrible in her life. Despite Carina‘s prescription of an anti-nausea medication Jo’s morning sickness and vertigo continue to plague her no matter what she tries. She hasn’t operated or delivered any babies in almost a month, her work routines now consisting of doing chart work and checking on patients when she’s not trying to keep food down. Between trying to maintain her work schedule and keeping up with Luna on top of her pregnancy, Jo is exhausted and completely depleted of any energy she might have once had.

She finally hits her breaking point an hour into her shift when she’s thrown up for the fourth time that day and nearly passes out. Her head is swimming as she leans against the bathroom stall, the only thought she can focus on is how much she wishes Alex was there. He always knew exactly what she needed when she wasn’t feeling good. There’s a knock on the door and she barely lifts her head when she sees Carina walk in.

“I’m admitting you. You need rest and fluids and you’re not going to get that if you keep running yourself into the ground,” Carina places her hand on Jo’s forehead. “You’re burning up, mi amor.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need to be admitted,” Jo attempts to brush off Carina as she grabs her hand, but the rush of blood to her head stops her. Carina barely catches her as her knees go weak and her vision blurs.

“What am I going to do with you, Jo? Come on, let’s go.”

Jo doesn’t put up any more of a fight, following Carina to a room and all but collapsing onto the bed. Her brain is foggy, words incoherently falling from her mouth as Carina asks her questions. Finally, her eyes flutter shut and Jo is enveloped in silence.

When she pries her eyes open again the sky outside is dark. Jo realizes this is the longest she’s slept in over a month and lets her eyes fall shut again. Only a moment later she remembers her morning with Carina and a deep panic sets into her bones.

Her baby.

As if sensing her unease, Alex reaches his hand out to grab hers. Jo then realizes that he’s sitting at her bedside, eyes tired and body restless in the small chair, “The baby’s okay, you don’t need to freak out.”

Jo nods, rubbing her hands over her face in exasperation. Even though their baby is okay Alex’s worried expression tells her that things might not be all rainbows and sunshine.

“Carina called me after you passed out. Scared the shit out of me, I thought you were dead or…,” Alex doesn’t finish the statement out, Jo putting the pieces together and settling her hand on the slight curve of her stomach. “You’ve gotta take better care of yourself.”

“I didn’t pass out, my vision went spotty and I was light-headed. And then I took a nap.”

“Jo, you slept for 15 hours straight. You were out long enough for me to finish a laparoscopic cholecystectomy, drive an hour to Kansas City, hop on a four-hour flight, and sit in traffic from the airport to get here. You’re running yourself into the ground,” Jo avoids Alex’s gaze as she fights back tears. “Carina took your blood when she put you on the IV drip. On top of being dehydrated and having iron deficiency anemia you also have an untreated UTI that’s bordering a kidney infection.”

“What?” Jo sits up abruptly but is immediately overcome with a wave of dizziness. Alex moves faster than her, placing one hand on her back while the other holds a basin in front of her. Head still in the basin, Jo speaks up, “Are you serious?”

Alex confirms the news once more, his hand rubbing Jo’s back gently, “She’s got you on strong meds to combat the infection and the baby is doing fine. You just need to take better care of yourself, Jo. Between work and Luna and now this baby you’re stretching yourself too thin.”

She can't help the rush of emotions she feels or the loud sob that breaks from her as Jo lets the last few weeks finally take their toll on her. Alex is quick to wrap her in his arms but even that does little to calm her down.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been really overwhelming and I’ve been doing everything alone,” Jo wipes at the tears pooling under her eyes and settles into Alex’s side. “I’m just exhausted from everything.”

“You’re not alone Jo, you have me and Mer and Link. All of us are more than willing to help you out.”

“Meredith and Link have their own families to take care of. And you live halfway across the freaking country, I can’t keep expecting you to drop everything and come to my rescue,” Jo knows that Alex wants to refute her statement but she avoids looking at him. “It’s just me and Luna and it’s so hard. I thought having a medically fragile infant was hard but that was nothing compared to all of this.”

Alex leans down and presses a kiss to Jo’s forehead, pulling her closer to him, “We’ll figure it all out, okay? I’m not letting you take all of this on by yourself.”

The words comfort Jo, if only slightly. She knows Alex has changed, knows that he really means it when he says that he’s going to take care of them. She’s not entirely sure what the future holds for them but she knows that everything will work out.

Meredith isn’t entirely sure what to think when she uses her key to unlock the penthouse only to find it empty. The furniture is still there but the personal items are all gone. The photos of Jo and Luna are gone, all of the drawers and closets are empty, and the place is eerily quiet. When she loops back to the living room Meredith finally notices the note taped to the fridge written in Jo’s loopy script.

Link or Meredith-

Luna and I are fine, there’s no need to worry about us. I promise we’ll call soon.

-Jo

The note gives Meredith a strange sense of deja vu, taking her back to when she had packed up Zola and Bailey and gone to San Diego. The memory instantly worries her, she can’t blame Jo for running but she also knows that their situations aren’t the same. Meredith pulls out her phone and dials Alex, hoping that he’s heard from Jo but the call goes straight to voicemail.

As she walks out of the penthouse Meredith hopes that Jo is okay, hopes that Alex knows where she is and that he’s able to help her through the rough road she has ahead of her.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself. How was the flight?”

“Besides the rambunctious three-year-old and constant nausea it wasn’t too bad,” Jo grins up at Alex as he takes Luna from her arms. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

Alex lets out a laugh as he folds Jo into his arms, squeezing both girls tightly, “Finally, it only took a month of begging.”

“Yeah well I figured now was a good time, you know before I get any bigger,” at the mention of her expanding baby bump Alex lets his hand float down to the curve of her stomach. She’d hidden it well with sweaters and baggy scrubs but now there was no denying that she was pregnant. “This is kinda crazy, isn’t it?”

Alex and Jo both laugh at that, knowing that nothing they’d ever done was traditional or normal. They’d divorced almost four years ago and now found themselves with three kids between them and a fourth on the way.

“What? You moving to Kansas after we’ve only been back together for a few months? I’d say it’s not completely sane,” Alex takes in Jo’s shocked face with a smile. “What’s that look for?”

“So we’re together now are we?”

Alex laughs before he bends down and captures Jo’s lips, only parting upon Luna’s insistence, “Only if you want to be.”

“I do.”

“Good because I fully intend to have you say those words for a third time,” Jo’s jaw drops at Alex’s words and it takes everything in her to calm down her racing heart. “You think I was just gonna bring you out here without marrying you?”

“Well, I-”

Alex takes the opportunity to press another kiss to Jo’s lips, “It’s okay princess, I promise this is the last time.” Jo finds herself standing in awe as she watches Alex and Luna look for their bags on the conveyor belt in front of them. There’s a flurry of tiny flutters that erupt in her stomach, partially from the baby wiggling around but mostly from the joy, she felt at Alex’s proposition. Since their reunion in New York, all Jo has wanted is exactly this, a life with Alex. She had thought that wasn’t in the cards for them anymore but as she watched him hoist Luna onto his shoulders she knew that everything around them had worked out perfectly.

#jolex #alex karev #jo wilson #jo karev #greys anatomy #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #greys anatomy fanfic #nina writes

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wackybuddiemewbs · 3 years

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Random Buddie Fic Snippets - no title, just (bad) vibes

Here’s to another snippet of things that ghost through my Word files. This one’s particularly headache-inducing for me personally. For one, trigger warnings galore. And then I have *checks file* 41k (!!!) words worth of non-fic noted down, but it’s really just unassembled bits and pieces of mostly dialog. Grrrrrrr. 😖

Since such a fic would take a lot more planning... which is basically the antithesis of me for all intents and purposes... I pester you with snippets like they are pestering me. Said it before and can only reiterate: I make you suffer with me. *cackles*

Basically, the story plays on the idea that Eddie and Buck grew up together due to plot convenient purposes and meet again at the fire station after years apart. Anyway, here’s to more madness mingled with angst! Cheers!

Buck slings his duffel bag over his shoulder when his phone vibrates. Sighing, he shifts his weight to take it out of his pocket and take the call. A smile creeps up his lips when he sees the picture flare up on his screen.

“Hey, what’s up, Mads?”

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that you were right about that little bakery downtown. It’s so worth the twenty minute trip,” she nearly groans. And Buck can relate. When he found that authentic Mexican bakery on a long run through the city, he may or may not have shed a few tears of happiness. And he may or may not have bought pastry worth a hundred bucks.

Totally worth it to run all those extra miles for the carbs, though.

“How many conchas did you have?” Buck asks, chuckling softly.

“I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Did you drive back to get more?” he questions, though Buck is fairly sure what the answer is already, which comes promptly, “Which is why I might be late for work.”

Buck laughs, leaning back against his car. “They are in the top 5 of conchas I ever had, which is saying something. So yeah, I get the feeling.”

And he should really know, he’s had the best in the world and no. 2 and 3 also. Though those are not up for sale.

“So, I need a bit of distraction to keep myself from digging through the remains of the bag before I make it to the car,” she tells him.

“Sure, what do you want to hear?”

“Howie told me that you’re getting someone new on the team today. Are you excited?”

“… Oh, ugh, sure.” Buck can feel his jaw cramping at that.

“You know you just sounded more excited about me being on a sugar high thanks to Mexican pastry than you are about your new teammate arriving.”

He’d hoped to avoid that conversation before he got over with it. Because that’s how he normally rolls with it. He gets over with it.

Works with band-aids and most situations that give you discomfort.

But Maddie has maybe not the sixth but seventh sense apparently big sisters seem to inherit by birth, so it appears that not even the most amazing conchas up for sale in all of Los Angeles will spare him having that conversation now. Which is the equivalent of tearing duct tape off, but slowly.

“I’m a huge concha fan, what can I say? And sure, it’s cool. It’d be nice to have a partner on the team, like, permanently, like Chim and Hen, more like.”

Buck rolls his eyes back as far as they will into his skull. It’s a small wonder that Maddie doesn’t buy his bullshit. He was fine just dodging the topic until now, it’s what normally works best for him. But yeah, Maddie just knows how to coax it out of him, and he loves and hates her for it.

“Talk to me, Buck.”

Buck looks up to the sky. “… I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“You are nervous? Don’t you think it’s up to the new teammate to be a bundle of nerves?”

“That’s kind of my thing, though,” Buck argues.

He has been ever since Bobby announced that they’d get a newbie, not a probie, but someone to be on the team with them. Dutifully, Buck laughed at the comments about how Bobby seemingly hired him a babysitter to make sure he doesn’t do reckless stuff all the time.

The nervous energy settled in when he got home that day and his leg wouldn’t stop bobbing well into lying in bed, trying to sleep. He only fell asleep halfway through reading the Wikipedia list of minor planets named after people.

“Then why do you feel nervous?”

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me,” she says softly.

Buck closes his eyes. He understood by now that yes, he can. But that doesn’t mean he wants to. Most of the time, Buck wished he didn’t have to tell anyone anything ever again and simply exist in the here and now. Because the here and now is sunny and tastes of pretty damn awesome conchas.

“I know it’s stupid, but…” His voice trails off.

And maybe she can read his mind, Buck wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case, because Maddie goes on to say, “You know he’s not taking your place, right?”

“What? Yeah, I mean…” Buck chews on his bottom lip. Whenever Maddie starts to talk like that, he feels like he’s sitting with a therapist. And suddenly, what he wants to believe are just his antics sounds like food for the shrinks.

“This is supposed to be your partner. Someone to have your back, not stab you in the back,” Maddie points out.

“Rationally, I know all that. It’s just…” He stretches out his legs.

“It’s just what?” she asks in a gentle tone of voice.

“What if he’s better than me?”

What if they realize that he’s expendable after all? What if someone comes along who can do things better than Buck without the attitude? What if he can’t prove his worth anymore because that guy can do it just as well, maybe even better?

“Then I will be glad because that means someone capable is watching out for my baby brother,” Maddie answers, pulling Buck back to the current conversation, not the fictional ones inside his head.

“What if we end up hating each other’s guts?” Buck continues. He had to restrain himself from actually typing a list of all those questions on his phone when his mind went spiraling upon receiving the news. Because that’s what’s been going on ever since Bobby announced. And Buck knows how stupid it is, but his brain didn’t get the memo. There are so many what ifs that it’s making him dizzy thinking about them.

“Then you talk about it like actual adults. And anyway, no one can hate you to your guts. You’re amazing.”

Buck has to fight hard not to blush. “Thanks, but you’re biased because you’re my sister.”

His heart still beats a little faster every time he says those words out loud. Something that comes so light and casual these days, though it isn’t. It is closer to what it should be. Because it should be casual, natural, given.

But apparently, the world didn’t get that memo yet. Seemingly a pattern.

“And as your sister, I’m also always right.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

He laughs. She chuckles back.

“Listen,” Maddie continues. “Just be yourself. You’re going to figure it out. This is exciting, Buck. More people to add to your family, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks,” he croaks.

“I’ll call you during lunch time, unless you’re out on a call. And then I want all the details on the newbie.”

“Alright. Pro tip: Put the bag of pastries in the trunk of your car. Only way to keep your paws off of them while driving.”

“I may actually crawl back, but yeah, it’d require a lot more effort.”

He smiles. “Drive save.”

“Will do.”

“Alright, I’m heading in,” Buck says, pushing away from his car. “Or else I will be running late, too.”

“Love you, little brother.”

“Love you, too. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Buck hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

Maddie is right. There is nothing to be nervous about. He has a team now. No one is leaving. New people are arriving. That’s how it works. That’s normal. And he gets to pester the newbie. So he should really be excited, as Maddie said. Buck knows he should focus on that. On how great this could turn out to be. On having a partner. Someone to have his back. All the time.

He sucks in a deep breath as he comes to stand in front of the door leading inside the fire station.

“The door is not closed,” he mutters with closed eyes, grabbing the handle. Buck pushes inside. He is greeted by the familiar hum of the fire station coming to life. People are talking over coffee, some are still fastening the buttons on their shirts as they make up the stairs.

And there’s no place he’d rather be. Buck knew that the moment he first walked into the station for the first time, and that assessment hasn’t changed since.

Buck makes for the locker rooms to change, not wanting to run late like Maddie. Once changed into his uniform, Buck finds himself a little more at ease. Athena once pointed out that they wear those uniforms as a way of protecting themselves. You take them off after work and leave all the bad behind that you’ve witnessed on a call. For Buck, the other way is just as true, though.

When he puts on that uniform on, he can leave his anxious, knee-bobbing self behind and do something meaningful. Because that’s what he found here, beside the team that means so much to him. He found a purpose. A way of answering a calling that lies far back in a past he can’t and won’t remember. To save lives.

Buck looks at his reflection in the mirror, straightens out the collar, makes sure his hair sits perfectly. His glance lingers on the name tag a moment longer, brushes his fingers over the metal plate, the one thing he can’t fix or straighten out.

But that won’t make me flinch. Ever.

“Buckaroo! Time for coffee and talk! I need new material on that show Denny and you are watching and that you need to update me on, so I don’t have to watch it!”

Buck smiles as he closes the locker to see Hen standing there with two cups of coffee.

“Coming.”

But that fixes a whole lot already.

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

Hen sips her coffee in silence as Bobby goes on about who is doing what for the day. She is glad that she isn’t assigned truck cleaning duty. That’s one of the best things about newbies and probies coming in. They get to do the dirty work for a bit. She had to jump those hoops, too, like everyone did, so it only seems fair.

Chim nudges her in the side, pulling her out of her musings. “Have you seen the newbie yet?”

She nudges him back a bit harder to tell him wordlessly that he is supposed to stop doing that. “If I had, don’t you think I would’ve told you by now?”

“Just saying, being late on the first day is not a good sign.”

“Can I help you with something, Han, Wilson?” Bobby calls out. “Care to share with the rest of the team?”

Buck laughs beside them, earning himself a nudge from Hen. That kid is going places sometimes, but Hen learned to love him fiercely after he stopped being a punk.

Fine, he’s still a punk sometimes, but we got to see there’s a heart of gold underneath all the punk and muscle and hair gel.

He grew on her the way he managed to grow on anyone, even the Captain who doesn’t like to admit that more than anyone around the station. He fired the boy first week in, and it was well-deserved, but he proved capable and kind.

Hen knew she was done for this humanoid golden retriever when she fussed over not having a babysitter for Denny and Buck jumped in after he’d just done a double-shift. She and Karen were still working things out and he just made the room, even though the boy deserved bed more than anyone else. Still, he took Denny to the park, finished homework with him, and got him to go to bed even though the kid is not so much a negotiator as he is a small dictator when it comes to bedtime. Karen and she found Buck passed out, snoring like a lawnmower, a book still in his lap while sitting next to Denny’s bed.

“Nothing, Cap,” Chimney answers. “Just sharing excitement about the newbie.”

“You’ll meet him shortly. He had to pick up his gear first and talk to the higher-ups another time. Once he arrives, you can pester him with questions as I know you will.”

“On it, Cap.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but then his mind goes back to the clipboard and the rest of the chores yet to be divided among the firefighters on shift. The rest of the morning routine goes without further incident, so the three are soon walking down the stairs to their designated task of checking their stocks on medical equipment.

“Okay. That is a beautiful man,” Chimney says, suddenly stopping in his tracks.

Hen trains her eyes on the dark-haired Latino, putting on a shirt. That should be the newbie, then.

“Where’s the lie? And I like girls.”

“Eddie…,” Buck breathes beside her.

Hen whips her head around at the sound.

“Wait, you know this guy?” Chim asks, but Buck doesn’t say anything. Instead, he starts to walk towards the new guy, or almost staggers, she should rather say. The newbie only takes notice of him when his head pops out from the shirt.

“Buck?”

To Hen, it feels like the two just go in slow motion while the rest of the fire station is crazy and busy as always. As though the whole world disappeared around them.

She can’t make out whatever words may be exchanged between them before the new guy covers the last few steps between them and pulls Buck against him in a tight hug. Shock is written all over his face, but also huge relief. Though Hen honestly wished they stood the other way around, because she would like to know just what expression is flitting across her little golden retriever’s face.

“What on earth is going on here?” Chimney mutters.

“I ain’t got no clue.”

The newbie pulls away, smiling over both ears, both hands deftly resting on Buck’s arms. Even though Hen still can’t see Buck’s face, it seems that the guy is doing all the talking for a change. Then he is hugging him all over again.

“I repeat, what on earth is going on here?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Before they can overcome their paralysis, Buck starts to move, gesturing behind himself. The new guy nods with the brightest of smiles, not once letting go of Buck’s arm as they start to walk towards them.

Her confusion is multiplied by the way Buck carries himself, eyes downcast, looking nothing but nervous.

Did someone exchange the 118’s golden retriever this morning, or what’s going on here?

“... can’t believe we meet again in this place of all places,” she can hear the new guy say as they approach.

“S, same.”

Buck is stuttering. To repeat the repeat: What on earth is going on here?

“We have so much catching up to do.”

“Yeah.”

“Buckaroo?” Hen calls out, or maybe demands. She no longer cares for the details here. She needs to get down to the bottom of this. Fast.

“Oh, sorry, I just… this is Eddie.”

“Hi.”

“Hi Eddie, it is a pleasure meeting you. We will greet you good and proper in only just a moment. Hold the line,” Hen says, before turning her attention back to Buck. “Now to you, Buckaroo. Spill the beans.”

“Yeah,” Chim agrees.

But Buck is not forthcoming. Boy looks like a fish out of the water, his mouth opening and closing without any sounds coming out. This makes the sirens ring inside Hen’s head, not the ones at the station. Because their Buckaroo never stops talking, even when he should sometimes, and even when he wants to stop talking, he will keep talking. So him not finding anything to say may or may not force Mother Hen to have to look after her punk chick here.

“We grew up together,” Eddie says after a pause, still all soft smiles and maybe even softer curls, by the looks of it. Hen will worry about that later, too. “I honestly had no clue he was working at this station, let alone that he was in L.A. Color me surprised. Abuela will not believe this.”

“Abuela?”

“My grandmother. She’s the one who fostered him before…,” Eddie continues, but then stops himself when he notices the look of sheer panic on Buck’s face. “They do not know this.”

Buck shakes his head.

“Dios.”

“Wait, you were in foster care?” Chimney almost cries out.

“In Texas?” Hen adds, her mind still short-circuiting thanks to that input.

“Yeah. I was adopted by the Moores after that.”

Chimney gapes at him. “You were adopted?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait, they don’t know about that either?” Eddie asks, now almost as frantic as they are.

Welcome to the club, hon.

“Now they do,” Buck mutters.

“But Maddie isn’t adopted. I should know.” Chimney lifts his index finger.

“Right,” Hen agrees.

Eddie makes a face. “Who’s Maddie?”

“My girlfriend, Buck’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Eddie slaps his hand against Buck’s arm, shock taking the place of confusion.

“Wait, you grew up with him and don’t know his sister?”

“It’s a long story,” Buck sighs.

“Like how you’re Texan?” Hen scoffs.

Buck holds up his hands. “Okay, guys, can we stop spiraling for a second?”

Hen opens her mouth to give him a piece of mind, but she’s abruptly cut off by their captain standing at the top of the stairs. “Buck! I could use a hand up here!”

“On my way, Cap!” Buck yells back, the amount of relief to opt out of the conversation more than imminent. “Sorry, duty calls!”

“Hey no,” Chim hisses, but Buck isn’t having it. He pats Eddie on the shoulder. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.”

With that, he starts to jog, or rather run, up the stairs. All watch him go, before their eyes fall back on the people standing right in front of them.

Well, if that’s not awkward.

“So, ugh. Hi again,” the new guy says, smiling sheepishly. “Eddie Diaz, your newbie.”

“Hi. Hen Wilson.”

“Howard Han, but you can call me Chimney or Chim. And why I’m called that is between me and God.”

“Okay. That may be only the second most confusing thing to happen on my first day.”

“We don’t normally act like this,” Hen tries to reassure him.

Chim makes a face. “We don’t?”

Hen nudges him in the side hard enough to make Chim gasp.

“Wilson, Han, you’re supposed to get on with the stocks!” someone calls out.

“You’re not our boss!” Chim shouts back at what turns out to be that jackass Lambert from B-roll no one likes because his attitude stinks about as much as his aftershave.

“But Cap is and he told me to tell you to move it!”

“I hate that guy,” Chim grumbles.

“I think I’ll like it here,” Eddie chuckles.

“They are so young and innocent when they join,” Chim snorts.

“Welcome to the 118,” Hen says, giving the younger man’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I suppose you should go up there as well and talk to the captain.”

“Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Most certainly.”

“That was only mildly threatening,” Chim laughs, rolling his eyes well before Hen jabs him another time.

“Good to have you here,” he adds.

“Indeed.”

“Good to be here. See you later.”

“Later,” both say in unison.

Eddie smiles at them before climbing up the stairs.

“You try to get a hold of your boo, I’ll see what info I can squeeze out of Cap or Buck, whoever I get my hands on first.”

“Aren’t we supposed to get on with…”

Hen glowers at him.

“I said nothing.”

“Less talking to me, more talking to your girlfriend.”

Chimney makes a mock salute, before walking away while fiddling with his phone. Hen let’s her gaze wander up to the gallery with a grimace. Something is not right, but she is going to figure it out. Because Hen Wilson keeps all her little chicks on track, even more so now that they got a new one to take care of.

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

Eddie tosses the sponge into the water bucket. Getting some of the crappier chores for the day is something he fully expected to happen. What he didn't expect, not in a million years, was running into Buck. Eddie’s head is still reeling because of it. And for what it seems, the same is true for Buck.

Buck.

To say that he seemed shocked is an understatement. Eddie knows the way Buck expresses panic. He’s grown up making sure the kid breathed instead of keeling over when it hit him, so Eddie knows that this was not just surprise, this was fight-or-flight level panic. Eddie knows by now he was so panicked because his colleagues didn’t know about the fostering or adoption – and he could still kick himself for bringing it up unawares.

He jumped to the conclusion because Buck used to talk about it freely to anyone who asked, especially after he was adopted by the Moores. Because it was his way of signifying to the rest of the world that he’d made it from being abandoned to finding friends and family. So Eddie assumed that Buck wouldn’t act any different around his colleagues.

Far from it!

“Eddie, my friend.”

Eddie nearly jumps when Hen and Chimney materialize next to him.

Speaking of…

“Hi,” he greets them.

“How’re you liking it thus far?”

“The detergents smell not as bad as some others do,” Eddie snorts. “But I’m pretty sure that’s not what you came here to ask me about.”

“Just so that you know, you can tell us anything,” Hen says in that mild tone of voice, though Eddie is pretty sure she only says it this way not to scare him away.

“You are looking for bribing material on Buck, I take?”

“We always appreciate it, but we are more like… trying to get up to speed. Until you came to the station, we didn’t even know he’d been fostered,” Hen answers.

“Or adopted,” Chimney adds.

“In Texas.”

Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, about that. So he actually found his sister?”

If seeing Buck nearly floored him, hearing about his sister was definitely not adding to Eddie’s calm.

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend. You’ll get to know her soon enough.”

There is a part in Eddie that’s very much relieved to hear that Buck found at least part of his family, but another part of him hurts at the news just as much. Because that means Buck likely learned some very uncomfortable truths about his past that won’t have added to the man’s confidence.

“Back in Texas, we knew nothing about where he came from, including whether he had siblings or not. There was an assumption, but no one could be sure.”

“How old were you by the time your grandmother fostered him?”

“I was eight years old.”

“Eight years old… Buck made it sound like he and Maddie were out of touch like, only by the time she got to know Doug.”

Eddie frowns. “Who’s Doug?”

“No one you want to know.” Chimney shakes his head.

Eddie shakes his head. All of this starts to make less and less sense. Why didn’t Buck tell them about any of this? Why didn’t he when he apparently found his sister? Why are they about as clueless as he is, even though they’ve been working side-by-side with him for how long now?

“We lost sight of each other when the Moores moved away from Texas. So they aren’t around anymore?”

Hen shrugs at that. “Let’s say we’ve never met them, never talked about them, or seen any pictures.”

“Kid arrived here with a travel bag and the will to become a firefighter,” Chimney adds.

Eddie can’t help but smile at that. “That sounds like him.”

“You sound pretty clueless actually, and not gonna lie, that is strangely reassuring,” Chimney snorts.

“I prepared for meeting many new people today. Not my best friend back from childhood.”

“Aw.” Hen clutches her hands in front of her chest.

“I just hope he’s not mad at me.” Eddie grimaces. There is something tugging at his heart, just thinking about it. A memory that goes way back in time. When he thought he’d messed it up with Buck forever and always, but he forgave quicker than Eddie could forgive himself.

“I don’t remember our Buckaroo being capable of keeping grudges for long.”

“Then that hasn’t changed at least,” Eddie sighs.

“I think you two should definitely get something to drink after work, reminiscence about the good old times. Catch up. Report back to us in the morning,” she says, her voice trailing off.

“You are aware that they are childhood friends.”

“But I can be far more intimidating.”

“I think getting something to drink and catch up is actually a good idea,” Eddie ponders. “So thanks.”

“You, I like.”

Eddie grins.

“You still missed a spot, though.”

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. Buck made some good friends here, for what it seems. And he is more than glad for it. They can surely figure this all out.

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

Waking up this morning, Buck thought his biggest worry would be to sort himself out with regards to the newbie and his standing on the team as a result. While that remains true, he just didn't imagine for one hot second it may be Eddie of all people in the entire universe.

Eddie.

When Buck saw him at the station, he didn’t know how to breathe. Even though he hadn’t seen him in years, he knew instantly, only to know that he suddenly knew nothing anymore. Buck used to think he made his peace never seeing Eddie again after they moved away, but then Eddie was hugging him and all those things Buck made sure to bury deep in the ground started to crawl up through the dirt, scratching at a way too thin surface.

And now he is sitting at a bar, nursing his alcohol free beer – because he doesn’t drink when driving, he has to get people out of cars thanks to that behavior way too often, thank you very much. He is at a bar. With Eddie. His Eddie. Because Eddie invited him to get a beer after the shift, and Buck didn’t know how to say no.

Story of my life, isn’t it?

“… I don’t even know where to begin,” Buck admits after a while of awkward silence spreading between them, wherein both men just started peeling the label off of their bottles of beer.

“Same. I mean, you got a sister.”

“Yeah, ugh, I would have told you that, but Chim is still over the moon with her, so of course he mentioned her before I could. They are cute together, but at the disgusting kind of stage,” Buck ponders.

“I’m just so happy for you that you found your family, Buck.”

He manages a feeble smile. Because Buck knows that Eddie means it, understands it perhaps better than most. Because he had to deal with it growing up, had to deal with Buck dealing it growing up.

“I didn’t really find Maddie. We just… happened to meet again. Like us two did today.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Really?”

Buck nods his head. The universe always had the strangest kind of humor when it came to him.

“She’s a dispatcher now. We talked over dispatch for a while, not knowing who we are to each other. We decided to hang out. As friends. She didn’t know people in the city after she moved there only recently, so we also went to a pub and… we started to talk.”

Déjà-vu much, huh?

“Over time, I told her some stuff about my past and, well, Maddie realized that the timing seemed oddly familiar to the brother she thought had died,” Buck continues. “DNA test confirmed it.”

“I was wondering about that,” Eddie sighs, still trying to process that input for what it seems. “I mean, I really put my foot in it, just blurting out with this.”

Buck holds up his hands. “Eddie, no. You had any reason to believe I had told them. I suppose I’ve been blowing this up out of proportions anyway, so this is really just on me.”

“It’s your choice what you want to share with people about yourself, Buck.”

Buck blinks. Sometimes, he forgets how wise Eddie used to be already at a young age. He was also a dumbass a lot of times, but when it came to talking about Buck’s feelings instead of his own, the guy always knew how to make sense of the chaos and make Buck feel like his feelings weren’t just a tedious affair best ripped off like band-aids.

Eddie always understood Buck, even when he couldn’t understand himself. And Buck wants to think that the same was true the other way around, for as long as it lasted.

“Thanks.”

Eddie smiles at him, sipping from his beer.

“Speaking of, thanks to Maddie I now know my official name,” Buck continues, doing his best to sound jovial. “Evan Buckley.”

“Buck-ley. Well, that explains how you got the name,” Eddie ponders, before tilting his head to the side with a cocked eyebrow. “So do I call you Evan from now on?”

“If you want me to call you Edmundo?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Buck sniggers. “You should know better than to tempt me.”

“Evan.”

“Edmundo.”

“This sounds all kinds of wrong,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “For me, you can only ever be Buck.”

“Which is convenient, because I can only be Buck.”

There was a brief moment in time when Buck considered changing his name, taking on that identity, the one intended. In the end, he dropped the idea for what he hopes to be for good. He doesn’t know who this Evan Buckley was or what he’d be now. He knows what Buck was like growing up. He knows what the guy is up to these days. And while they have their qualms, he’s mostly at peace with Buck.

Even a name tag doesn't change a thing about it.

Because he’s Buck. And thankfully, Eddie sees it the same way. So maybe he’s not entirely crazy for holding on to that, however schizophrenic it may be in the end.

“Anyway, part of the reason why I managed not to let anyone in on this is that Maddie agreed to run with not mentioning it. We just stuck to the part where we lost sight of each other and found one another again when anyone asked. And until now, no one really questioned the timeline.”

“And no one ever made the connection between Buckley and Buck?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “Maddie’s married name is Kendall. She considered changing it back to Buckley after she broke up with her scumbag husband. But when she found out what kind of scumbags our parents are, it was out the window. So no one had reason to question the difference in names and just assumed that Maddie’s birth name was Moore, too.”

“I take that there is no good explanation as to how you ended up in Texas, then,” Eddie sighs. Buck can tell that he’s trying to sound casual, soft, but the white-knuckled grip on the beer bottle is an entirely different story.

“No, not really. As far as we understand it, our parents moved across state borders under the pretense to get treatment for me. Then they just dropped me at a fire station and drove back. They told Maddie I died.”

“Why would they do that? Why would anyone’s parents…?” Eddie shakes his head, disbelief settling in. Buck knows the feeling oh too well. When he found out, it didn’t make sense to him at all. But as more details were added, the clearer the bigger picture became, though it turned none the brighter.

Buck looks around, just to be sure none of the 118 was sent here to spy on them. Once he is sure there is really just them, Buck hunches forward in his seat.

“Well, I was a big, fat disappointment, I guess. They had me to save their oldest son, Daniel. He had juvenile leukemia. I was… I was a savior baby. Just that… ugh, I didn’t save him. My guessing is that they never wanted me, so they gave me away after Daniel died. I was just there for spare parts anyway.”

Buck suddenly feels something cold in his neck, only to realize it’s Eddie’s hand gently squeezing it. Buck tenses for a moment, then eases to the familiarity of the touch, suppressing the urge to lean into it like he used to.

“I’m so sorry. I would’ve hoped for something else to come out of this.”

Buck manages a feeble smile. “It’s fine. I got a sister now I never expected to find. That’s great. Over the moon kinda great. And now I also ran back into you, too. So I’m one lucky bastard after all.”

Eddie’s hand lingers for a while, no words spoken and yet all is said between them. And how much Buck missed that. Not having to say things for them to be understood.

Eventually, Eddie’s hand falls on his shoulder, giving it a light pat before returning to his beer. “So we’re still friends after I spilled to your colleagues?”

“I didn’t stop being your friend after you got so mad for me saying that you couldn’t bake for shit, so you covered a balloon stuck to a cardboard box in frosting and told me you’d baked a cake and I cut the thing only for it to explode in my face.”

“To this day one of my proudest achievements when it comes to pranks,” Eddie snorts, breaking out laughing at the memory.

Buck can’t help but laugh along. Many of those memories got stuffed away alongside the ones he’d buried in the ground. He had no reason to unearth them because he chose not to tell anyone. But with Eddie, those things come back to light and they shimmer like gold, even after all those years of packing on dust.

“Laugh it up all you want, I got back at you eventually.”

“Don’t remind me,” Eddie groans. “I got grounded for a month because you led my parents to believe I’d be stupid enough to have a folder for porn on the family’s computer and made a message pop up every time that the folder was overloaded and created a system error.”

“Yeah. That was a masterpiece,” Buck sniggers. “But anyway. If that didn’t cancel our friendship, I think we’re fairly good with all this here.”

“Then I’m glad. When you fled the scene, I got kind of worried.”

Buck shrugs. “You know me. I’m a whirlwind of emotions, so I thought it’d be best if I took the time to cool down.”

“That was definitely not how you went about it before,” Eddie argues.

And Buck can’t argue with that. Back in the day, Buck just let the storms rage, never minding the consequences. On the job, that’s still how he rolls, but it was also how he talked, how he presented himself. After he got to meet the Diaz family, he stopped hiding a lot of things. He screamed when he felt like screaming and he cried when he was sad. He laughed when he was happy. And sometimes he even cried because he was that happy, but he learned that this was okay. Abuela always told him this and he took it to heart.

At least for as long as I could.

“Which is why I’m working on it. But anyway! Enough of me. Tell me about you. How long have you been in L.A.? What got you here?” Buck asks. Judging by the look on Eddie’s face, his transition of topics is not nearly as smooth as he’d want it to be, but Eddie rolls with it anyway.

“I moved here only shortly, for the job,” he says. “Before that, I was working some odd jobs. Before that, Afghanistan.”

Buck winces. “Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s one way of describing it. After I came back home injured, I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to set priorities differently, and somehow… I ended up in L.A.”

“Fresh start.” Buck nods his head. There is still so much to unravel in just those few sentences. Afghanistan. Injury. Priorities. Eddie tends to hide a lot more in his words, even more so when they are scarce. But for what it seems, he will now get the time to dig deeper. Because that is what Buck knows someone has to do in order to understand someone like Eddie Diaz.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I get that feeling,” Buck says. “Los Angeles is great for that, worked out for Maddie and me, too.”

“We’ll have to drink a lot of beers to catch up on all those years we didn’t hear from each other to wind up having a fresh start in the same city.”

“Then it’s a date.”

Eddie wants to say something, but then his phone vibrates. “Sorry about that.”

Buck holds up his hands. “It’s fine.”

Eddie takes out his phone and checks his messages. Buck can see the instant shift in the other man’s demeanor. He knows that change like the back of his hand, even with years between where they parted ways and now crossed them again. Eddie’s shutting down.

“Hey, uhm, sorry, I gotta head out. It’s urgent,” he says, grabbing his wallet, clearly embarrassed and beat-up for having to leave so suddenly.

Some things don’t change, do they?

“Hey, it’s fine, man. We, ugh, we are stuck together now anyway, right? We’ll find enough time to catch up. It’s a date, after all,” Buck assures him. “Also, you’re not paying for the beer, unless you wanna pick a fight with me. Just go.”

Eddie smiles at him wryly. “Thanks. I’ll pay next round?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Now off you go.”

“Sorry another time. I really gotta…”

“See you at work!”

“See ya!”

Buck manages to keep up the smile until the door shuts behind Eddie. His shoulders drop and he sucks in a deep breath. He pays for the beers and nearly flies out the door.

He makes for his car and climbs in. Buck realizes only now how badly his hands are shaking. Struggling for breath, he takes out his wallet again and fishes out that one crumpled piece of the past he carries with him whenever he’s not on the job, so to be sure it doesn’t get further damage.

Buck unfolds the faded photograph with shaky hands and presses it against his mouth, breathing hard against it. The tears keep coming, no matter how hard he tries to stop them. They are happy and sad. Desperate and relieved. Everything and nothing. And all that at the same time.

Eddie is back.

Eddie is back in his life, just like that, after the years it took him to accept he’d never see him again. That he’d moved on as he should have.

How do you rip off the band-aid or duct tape for that?

Or maybe that’s just the universe telling him that some things really can’t be fixed.

Because apparently, the universe is still mocking him.

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #buddie fanfic #fanfic #snippet #y'all let me in and now I'm making y'all miserable #:)#long ass snippets that pester me and now you too #by a non-native no less #bon appétit

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ayellowcurtain · 4 years

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Could you write more hurt marti? :( It’s super sad that there’s not enough Niccotino fics and we need more hurt Marti

Don't have a particular scenario but, have you seen the pics of Fede's IG? Where he's walking all carelessly....

could we get a little fic of nicotino talking it out? like really letting all their insecurities out? Marti asking questions, Nico answering at his best and then you know being all cute and comfy in their home?

It’s not their anniversary, not Nico nor Marti’s birthday, but it feels like a big day. Marti is finally coming home. Nico could barely function all day long, counting down the hours. He didn’t have an exact time to look forward to, so Nico was constantly waiting.

They still need to properly talk, to tell each other about what happened in the last couple of weeks, but as long as Martino is home, anything will feel a lot easier to do.

Martino has the keys, or at least he had them when he left, but he knocks on the door when he gets there and he waits for Nico to open the door for him.

Nico wants to ask why he didn’t use his keys, but he doesn’t. He just holds the door open and lets Marti walk inside, their eyes only meeting for a second, and Marti is tense, shoulders up, closing around his chest.

His face is still bruised, but it’s a lot better than the last time Nico saw him this close. It’s still so hard for Nico to acknowledge that the fight was real, that the whole night really happened. Everything was fine, perfect even for one moment and then everything after that became messy for weeks, but nothing changed about his feelings for Martino.

“Hm, I brought some gnocchi al ragú for you...I made at Filo’s for a goodbye dinner and...yeah, brought some for you.” Marti opens his backpack and struggles but takes a little container off and offers it to Nico. “It’s still warm, you should eat…”

Nico smiles, holding the warm glass with both his hands, looking at Martino. “Thank you. You didn’t need to worry about me, I ordered pizza, it should be here soon.” He wiggles his head and smiles, hoping that lightens the mood a little, but Martino gives him a sad smile in return and Nico nods his head, aware that things won’t be as easy as he would like.

They stand there awkwardly for a moment, stealing glances at each other when the other is not looking and Marti is the one to break the silence again, pointing to their bedroom.

“I’m gonna...put my things there.”

Nico nods his head, biting the inside of his cheek. “Okay…”

Marti walks to the bedroom and Nico goes to the kitchen and then to their living room, sitting on the couch and eating Marti’s delicious food, waiting for him to come back to keep him company.

There’s this anticipation that lingers around them and Nico wants nothing more than to be done with it. They’re back together, supposedly, but there’s a lot they need to talk about, that Martino wants to say and to make clear.

He finally comes back, walking in front of Nico and going to sit at the opposite end of the couch, as far away from Nico as it’s possible. It’s not too much, one empty seat in between them, but it bothers Nico. He turns his body a little so he’s able to see Marti and he waits.

Martino is looking down, clearly trying to think on what he wants to say exactly and Nico takes that time to really take Marti in. His stubble, the dark circles around his eyes, him fidgeting with his hands. Marti looks skinnier too and Nico wishes he had taken care of himself, he feels guilty for how upset Martino still looks.

“I won’t be able to be friends with him, you know. Luai.” Martino confesses, finally looking at Nico to see what he thinks of that.

Nico stops eating, quietly putting everything on their coffee table. “I figured. It’s okay.”

“Yeah...” Martino nods his head, looking down again as he exhales, clearly a little more at peace with himself for putting that part out.

Nico shrugs when Martino looks at him in search of something more he might say, there’s not much he can do. If Martino can’t separate his feelings from his rational part, he can’t and that’s okay.

“As long as you two don’t go punching each other every time you see each other, yeah.”

They go quiet again and Nico looks up through his lashes, hating how it feels like Marti is still holding back some tears. Niccolò never thought Marti would react so strongly about this. He thought they were safe, that keeping those pieces of information to himself wouldn’t be as harmful as it clearly was.

"You and Luai are not the same, Marti. You're not a backup plan." Nico tries, measuring his words and keeping his eyes on Marti, trying to make him understand how much he means his words. "I just couldn't bear the thought that I could have ruined a part of his life, that I had caused him any pain. I don't love him. I never did, not in the way that I love you and that you love me. I liked him and that night at the club I was just feeling guilty, but also relief that he was ok."

Nico can see, but he can almost hear how Marti swallows the lump on his throat. His eyelashes are a little wet and sticking together, but he cleans his eyes with the back of his hands before he can let himself cry.

Seeing Martino in pain makes Nico feel so much remorse. He needed weeks to wrap his mind around the past two years of his life, he needed time and he can't believe this caused Martino this much pain.

"You needed time to find closure with your past, with Luai. To mourn the "what ifs". And I needed time to mourn the loss of the romanticized version of you that I created in my head. The idea that I was your first like you'd been mine. I never liked Gio the way I liked you at the start, I never kissed a boy before and saw that turn into something good before you. And I thought you had the same experience and I wanted that. I wanted it so fucking bad and so I needed time to digest that it wasn't the reality."

It feels like a punch to his stomach. Nico regrets even eating Marti’s amazing gnocchis because he feels suddenly nauseous. The thought that somewhere inside Martino’s brain, his idea of Niccolò has changed drastically leaves him unsettled. Marti can probably tell, because he starts talking again.

“I’m not angry at you anymore. I’m just disappointed at myself, I think. For creating this idea in my head that I was your one and only love. I was caught by surprise by the reality, that’s all. I accepted all of this during these last few weeks.”

“Marti...you are.” Nico tries to explain, not sure if his mid-sentence is enough, he sits closer and Marti shakes his head, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, he’s getting red around his lips, a clear sign when he’s about to cry.

“No, Ni. I’m not fishing for compliments or for reassurance. I’m really not. I'm just being honest, you wanted me to talk and so I'm talking.”

Nico looks down, trying to calm himself, explain himself a little more. Their knees are gently touching each other. Marti’s hands on his thighs and Nico’s are exactly like that too, so he reaches out quietly, holding one of Martino’s hand, running his thumb through the back of Marti’s hand, feeling how warm and soft it feels.

“I love you, Martino. So much. If I could go back in time, I would change a few things, yeah, but not too much because I had to meet you. No matter what, I had to meet you and to make you notice me and fall in love with me.”

Nico tries to bend the limits a little more, sitting as close as they can be, touching Marti’s cheek, kissing his temple, feeling how Marti sighs loudly, slowly emptying his lungs completely, relaxing his shoulders.

“Nothing, nobody would change us being here, together. I’m gonna fight for you, for us, always.”

#skam italia #martino rametta #niccolò fares #nicotino #martino x niccolò

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norcumii · 4 years

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HAPPY (slightly late) BIRTHDAY, @aces-to-apples! I have some fic for you! :D

Minor apologies to everyone, because this latched on to my brain and would not let go, even though I meant to be more moderate and do Life Things today.

No regrets.

This is a post-war fic, where Everyone Lives (except Sidious because fuck him, and Krell because fuck him too) and things are rather different. Main pairing is Padme/Anakin/Rex, with background mention of Ahsoka/Steela and Jesse/Maul/Kix, because that’s Apples’ jam. HIGH CITRUS RATING. Sorry not sorry at all.

*********

It’s their third anniversary, and the fourth anniversary of the end to the Clone Wars. Like always, it’s a weird day, full of a mix of emotions and a few official appearances they couldn’t get out of. As a senator, Padmé still has to go to the morning session commemorating the Attack on Coruscant, while Rex and Anakin have to smile for cameras along with the other significant military figures laying mementos at the GAR commemorative wall. That’s at least a good chance to catch up with anyone they haven’t seen lately, what with Echo and Fives still being in the army, Ahsoka and Steela living it up as bounty hunters, Cody and Obi-Wan being themselves, and any number of other former officers and Jedi.

It’s after lunch that they have time to themselves. All three eat light in public, so they get to cuddle together in the living room for a set of their favorite light snacks. It’s a quiet time, while most of Coruscant winds up from ‘solemn remembrance’ to ‘celebration.’

There’s too many memories for them to celebrate. Oh, sure, the whole winning the war thing was good. The betrayal – Anakin’s friend, Padmé’s mentor, who tried very hard to kill Fives and oh yes, brain wash the entire army – it’s just too much.

Rex doesn’t even bother with a melancholy but vicious variations on ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ that he indulged in the prior years. They’re just glad Palpatine is gone, they’re still here, and that they get this time close with each other.

Being tangled up together means that they can feel the slow relaxation, as clinging turns to sprawling, and being who they are a restless energy grows. Rex – who still struggles with the concept of downtime – is the one to separate first, and Padmé asks, “Shooting range?” in an innocent tone as if the thought just happens to cross her mind. Rex’s grin is still too sharp, which means even more reason for Anakin to drive their speeder to Padmé’s favorite range. It’s a layer further down that probably any other senator would even dream of considering a visit to, near enough to CoCo Town to be busy, but distant enough that celebrations are off elsewhere.

Like last year, Padmé rented the place out, so it’s just them and the two bored – well armed – grandparent-y types keeping an eye on things more out of habit than anything. They keep out front at the store part, once again involved in a holochess game Anakin couldn’t swear has changed a single move since last year.

Rex leads the way inside, Padmé stopping for a quick chat with the owners. Anakin sidles around her, to find Rex is already checking the available weapons over and making vaguely disgruntled noises which means the weapons are superb for civilian care, even if that might not be up to the GAR’s standards.

Or maybe just Rex’s, but to Anakin it’s the same.

He settles onto the floor where he can see both Rex and Padmé shooting, as the two efficiently check over weapons and ammo, and then begin to methodically take down a number of plas targets. They start off simple, then as they relax further it leads to teasing competition and trick-shots that would make other patrons rather nervous, which is why Padmé reserved the place just for them.

Anakin loves watching them like this, the whole spectrum from cool, murderous professionals to giddy playfulness that’s still beautifully terrifying. Padmé tried to tease him once about having a ridiculous competence kink, but that fizzled when she invited Rex into the ‘discussion’ and he’d just stared at her for a genuinely confused moment before asking “doesn’t everyone?”

Anakin slips into meditation, because the day’s built up too many ghosts for someone with his sensitivity to the Force. He works to center himself, to let go of so much pain, and it takes time. Letting go of what in retrospect was years of Palpatine dripping poison into his ears, while maneuvering the Jedi Order into political corners and away from moderate – reasonable and sane! – doctrine. Letting go of the fear that Obi-Wan and Cody might not be able to right that particular ship, and fix the Order’s extremes even with the help and support of the Council and especially Mace.

He works to heal just a little bit more of the emotional wound from Ahsoka leaving the Order, a good move for her and her life but still biting deep at his own insecurities and fragile sense of self that still, four years on, hasn’t fully recovered.

It wasn’t a betrayal, not like Palpatine, but it still hurt him.

The old fears surge up a moment, and he allows himself to face them. Anakin doesn’t like considering the what ifs from Mandalore. What if Maul hadn’t been creating an elaborate means to get Anakin and Obi-Wan away from the Chancellor’s grasp and manipulations; what if Jesse hadn’t listened to and accepted Maul’s surrender, with vital intel about the Sith Lord and how to take him down.

He’s not surprised that Jesse, Kix, and Maul hadn’t returned for the celebration – this time of year is rough for all of them, but those three more than most, and Obi-Wan does much, much better not having to deal with his old nemesis ever, but especially now. They can manage to be on polite speaking terms in front of cameras – Maul’s paying off his debt to society after all – but it’s a fragile peace.

The feelings of care and affection sink into the light daze of meditation, and Anakin comes back to the present to find Rex on his right, Padmé to his left, all three cuddled up together again. He flushes a little and grins, disoriented by the way he’s surrounded by love but feeling lighter for having addressed and moved on just a little bit more from his issues. “Who won?” he asks, and Padmé’s grin is wicked while Rex’s is just a bit sweet – things so few besides him ever get to see.

“Both of us,” Rex declares, leaning in to kiss him slow and deep, seeing how Anakin needs to take his time coming back to the here and now. He doesn’t know how Rex always figures it out, but he appreciates it so much.

When they’re both breathless and pulling apart, Padmé sneaks in, peppering them both with teasing little kisses that are more than half nips but all invitation. Anakin chases those all the way to his feet, Rex steadying both him and Padmé.

“Come on,” she dares them, leading the way through the sidedoor to the sim room next door. Anakin’s honestly not sure what it’s called – it’s not like the place advertises it – but Rex took one look and was so pleased at a sim room that’s what they call it amongst themselves.

One of the owners helps them suit up, while the other picks out a maze design. There’s a lot of clunking and creaking noises as the variable panels around the auditorium-sized space realign, creating a mock battleground they’ll get to play in.

Since Rex cheats and memorizes layouts more on first instinct than intent, he’s politely turned so his back’s to the developing design, fussily readjusting every single strap to the bodysuit padding before checking over their weapons. They’re toys, with lasers that are light and nothing else – Anakin’s certain the power sources couldn’t produce anything more and he’s said – multiple times over – not that it stops Rex.

Padmé, who cheats shamelessly, keeps an eye on the way the panels are rearranging, and she’s the first one pelting off as soon as they have the green light. The artificial fog is just starting to filter in as Anakin breaks right and Rex breaks left, separating to their own starting points before the game’s signal buzzes to begin.

Anakin listens to the Force well enough to be a terrifying shot, and gravity is more optional for him than most people. Rex has trained essentially from birth to be terrifying in combat. Padmé is clever, small, and swift, not to mention ready to sneak in any advantage she can slice out of an opportunity.

Even playing nice, and with Anakin not cheating with the Force too much, the laser tag game is brutal and goes on for a delightfully long time. Rex probably won, though they don’t bother asking what the suits registered for scores on their way out.

They’re relaxed in truth as they stroll down to Dex’s – the walk’s a little long, but it’s nice to have Padmé under one arm and Rex under the other as they wander through the crowds.

Ok, so it is more than a little mortifying when someone stops them to try to negotiate with Anakin for Rex’s services, but Padmé’s Force presence sings with amusement as she pretends to be offended and insists on negotiating with the idiot over her own services. She’s charging way more than the idiot can afford, and the embarrassed Pantoran finally beats a confused retreat because they “just wanted a nice time with the pretty man, not the scary lady”.

They’re still giggling over it as they stumble into Dex’s, Anakin dragging Padmé over to a booth while Rex places their orders at the counter. When he comes back to the table Anakin swaps so Rex is on the inside, and he’s braced for when Dex erupts from the kitchen, probably from recognizing their order. Anakin just has to press in a little, bumping shoulders with Rex who tenses in spite of himself. There’s the usual blush of frustration with himself in the Force, not that Anakin blames Rex for a bad reaction. Dex can be a lot, and given past experience with Krell....

He stays close, keeping Rex grounded with a light bump with his knee or brush of the arm whenever he can feel a tremble of trauma rattle through.

Rex settles quick, because Dex is an incredibly sweet being and Padmé is just that good at smoothing over the atmosphere when she tries – and for Rex, she’s always happy to go the extra mile.

When they finally leave for home, they’re well fed, relaxed, and content.

Of course the instant they’re back in the apartment they’re all over each other. It’s their anniversary, and the entire afternoon and evening has been one long game of teasingly-close-and-intimate but never over the line into anything sexual.

He didn’t used to have this kind of patience, but Padmé and Rex have worked long and hard to help him find it.

Anakin snags supplies from the bedroom, because this is definitely the kind of evening to enjoy the view from the main sitting room – and the nice, plush couches – as other people celebrate in a more public manner. He sets things up as Rex moves around Padmé, speaking low and teasing in that tone that sinks right into Anakin’s belly, getting him hard so damn fast. Rex is all kisses and caresses for her, deftly reaching under her clothes and pulling free a set of vibro-knives, a pretty little blaster from her back, and a hold-out pistol tucked into a boot. Rex moves behind her, kissing along the neck to whisper into her ear, getting a delighted laugh from Padmé as he starts carefully running his fingers through her hair. That pulls a deep groan from Anakin, because the way she looks, arched up towards Rex who’s curled over her, the play of calloused, strong fingers through her hair – they are unfairly gorgeous, and the wicked grin Rex sends him means he totally knows, and that’s part of why he’s doing this.

He pulls some lockpicks free of Padmé’s fancy hair style, ruining the last bits of styling to leave tousled curls around her shoulders, and Anakin thinks she looks better that way. Oh, she’s always beautiful, but that mix of artifice and mess always gut-punches him in the best way.

Rex turns back to rest his chin on Padmé’s head, earning an amused look from her before her eyes flutter closed and she moans, because he’s ghosting his hands down along her body – a bit too busy for a caress, but too gentle for a pat-down.

This is all a little game they play, just between themselves – Rex tries to find whatever toys and surprises Padmé’s hidden for a day, though he doesn’t tend to find everything. She’s had a lot of time to learn ridiculous ways to hide things, and she’s got three dedicated tailors willing to alter her fancy wardrobe in interesting ways.

Padmé has promised that if Rex does win, she’ll replace that expensive lingerie set they ruined last time, that gorgeous gold getup for Rex with the pretty gold chain dangles that drove Anakin wild. Not that he’d ever tell, but Anakin knows for a fact that she’s got the replacement already, tucked away in a discreet box in the depths of her terrifyingly large closet.

Rex ends with his hands on Padmé’s hips, nuzzling the skin behind her ear. Anakin can see how it makes her knees go weak, how Rex is supporting most her weight, and he’s tempted to just jack off here and now because they are gorgeous.

“That’s everything,” Rex declares, that deep rumble again that makes both Padmé and Anakin shiver.

“No,” she says, a bit breathy as she leans back so Rex has most of her weight in truth. “A little help, Ani?” She lifts a leg, and if he’s letting his hands wander and feel as he helps pull off her boot, no one minds.

The blaster holster is discreet, right next to the back seam, and Padmé pulls a thin bit of metal from inside that seam. It’s not wide enough to be an actual knife, but it has a wicked point and looks like in a pinch, it’d be great for stabbing into vital bits or throwing hard enough to confuse someone.

Rex looks genuinely put out, so he didn’t miss it on purpose. “I checked there!”

Padmé twists enough to kiss him an apology. “The holster’s specifically designed to conceal it. You’re meant to find the gun.”

Rex shoots an exasperated look to Anakin, who grins and shrugs back at him. He knows better than to wager against Padmé. Rex smirks and rolls his eyes, then gives him a look. Anakin can feel his intent in the Force, so he grins and nods back.

“Sneaky,” Rex grumbles, hoisting Padmé into his arms and a long kiss. She’s laughing when he pulls away, then shrieking giggles as Rex carefully tosses her in Anakin’s direction.

It’d be too far for even Rex to make, but Anakin uses the Force to catch her and draw Padmé into his arms. He gives her his own long kiss, enjoying the pleased noises she makes while twining her arms around him.

“Congratulations, Angel, you won,” he says, pulling away to gaze at her in helpless awe. He sinks down onto the couch, because even petite as she is, he doesn’t want to stand around holding her much longer. “How do you want to start this evening?”

Padmé reaches for the toys Anakin laid out, and trails her fingers over the strap-on harness with a teasing smirk. “I think I’d like you on your knees – the couch is just the right height, and you can see what you can do for Rex while I take care of you.”

He can’t stop a pleased noise escaping him, doesn’t even try as he clutches her closer. He enjoys the noise it pulls from her as his artificial hand clenches just a hair too tight – he’d calibrated it so precisely when first getting it, desperate to make sure he didn’t hurt her, only to find her very, very sheepishly asking at some point if he couldn’t be just a little rougher – not harsh, just enough to feel things.

Rex is better about knowing just where that line is, and he walks it beautifully, but Anakin can never quite figure out how to convince his brain that ‘worship’ can include roughness. It’s sometimes such a relief to just follow Rex’s lead, able to trust that someone knows exactly how far to push and how best to do it.

Doesn’t hurt that Rex enjoys that too.

“Maybe this one instead?” Rex asks, chuckling as if he can hear what Anakin’s thinking. He gently places a different dildo next to the strap-on, and Anakin shivers. That one’s got an interesting vibration system, so it doesn’t take long to beautifully scramble his brains but it only teases Padmé.

She makes a delighted, interested noise. “And then when I’m all riled up you’ll take care of me?”

“If I can stand again by then, I’ll fuck you on the table until you scream,” he rumbles, voice dark and promising. Ani can feel the way Padmé shivers, her breath catching as she arcs like she can already feel the Naboo-imported wood on her back.

“Yes, sir,” she breathes, and Ani can see Rex’s eyes dilate at that, dark and hungry as his tone had been.

Anakin doesn’t actually know when to stop pushing, but thankfully they know that. He reaches out, hand to Rex’s shoulder like it’s just another day on the battlefield and he’s giving a friendly shoulderpat. Except now he gets to slide his thumb under Rex’s shirt, trace lightly over some scars and the collarbone, watch Rex arc his neck as he sways in closer. “Tease her enough, take your time, and then we might have to return the favor.”

Rex lunges in for a fierce kiss, teeth clacking a bit before he rearranges to not squish Padmé quite as much between them. From her laughter, she doesn’t mind, and her squirming is turning interesting. Rex, the bastard, is smirking when he finally lets Anakin breathe. “It’s gonna take both of you.”

His brain might not be firing on full yet, but he doesn’t need thought to know what’s going on here. “Pssh, please,” he says, lofty and disdainful. “It’d only take Padmé, but I want to do more than watch.” Then his brain does catch up, and his expression falters. “Er, I mean. Not that I mind watching, just, uh....”

They just laugh, moving in to start helping Anakin out of his clothes. They don’t even need to say anything, which is kind. Anakin waits long enough for his prosthetic’s glove to come off – Rex has a fascination with the detailwork and feel of it that Anakin doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t question. Then he’s reaching back, and it’s a tangle of limbs and disappearing clothing, laughter and pleasure. He loves his spouses so much, his two beautiful badasses that can lead like gods and fight like nightmares – kind, and sometimes ridiculous, and all entirely his.

~end

#star wars #My writing #citrus #aces-to-apples #padme/rex/anakin #look i realized I wanted them playing laser tag on their anniversary and it just kinda spiraled out of control from there #long post is long

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ladyfogg · 4 years

Text

May I? - 14/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ geekygwen

Faith didn't remember falling asleep.

She remembered closing her eyes and feeling the ever-steady rise and fall of Data's chest under her cheek. His hands had reached up to stroke her hair and then, sweet peaceful rest.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was alone in the bunk. A blanket had been draped over her and the quiet hum of the shuttle made her consider going back to sleep, but she missed Data.

Faith sat up, shivering when she realized her uniform was still bunched around her waist. Her body grew warm at the memory of Data's hands on her back and mouth at her breast. She flushed, feeling her sex throb with need. He hadn't even touched her, yet she had come anyway just by riding his thigh.

She would never forget how he looked at her. It was like he could see everything she was or ever wanted to be.

Faith pulled her uniform back up, tucking her arms into the sleeves as she headed for the bathroom. She rinsed out her mouth, washed her face, and undid her hair from its braid. As she studied her reflection in the mirror above the sink, she couldn't help but smile.

Last night was amazing, she thought, running her fingers through her hair to work out the knots. I should do something for him today. I wonder if he has something specific he wants to experience.

Faith left the bathroom in search of the android in question. She found him in the cockpit, hard at work per usual.

Leaning against the door frame, she took the time to admire him, trying to freeze every aspect of him into her memory.

"Lieutenant Commander Data reporting in," he was saying into the console. "We are twelve hours and eighteen minutes into our journey. So far there is nothing to report. All systems operational."

"Good to hear your voice, Data," Riker's voice came through the com. "Our repairs will take other forty-eight hours to complete. I will send you a subspace transmission when we are on our way. Riker out."

Data sat back in his seat. He must have sensed she was there because he slowly spun around to face her.

"Good morning, Faith. Did you sleep well?"

Faith smiled, crossing over to him. "Better than I have in a very long time."

Data stood as she approached and she wrapped her arms around him. He followed through, pulling her into a hug. "You were sleeping quite soundly. I did not feel it was necessary to wake you."

"Thanks for that. And for last night." She leaned up to place a peck on his lips.

"But I did not manually stimulate you."

"Trust me, you did plenty," Faith assured him. "Do you want to have breakfast with me?"

"That would be acceptable."

They walked hand-in-hand to the dining area where Faith got a fruit parfait. Data joined her at the table.

She suddenly found herself nervous again. She couldn't stop thinking about the previous night and with nothing really to do until they reached their destination, her mind was creating all sorts of naughty scenarios.

One orgasm and you want to jump him again, she scolded herself. What happened to the whole being an adult thing? Get it together!

She ate her breakfast as he watched her. There was something in his expression that made her worried. He was clearly deep in thought, his eyes moving from side-to-side as he took her in.

"Everything okay?" she asked. "You seem more pensive than usual today."

"Faith, do you wish to have children?"

Her spoon slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. His question caught her completely by surprise. She was no way prepared for it.

"W-Well, um….hmm, guess I've never given it much thought," she said, trying to reclaim her composure. "Why do you ask?"

"Last night while you were sleeping, I was examining our relationship and the possible outcome of our future," Data explained. "It is a fundamental instinct among humans to want to bear offspring. As I am an android, I cannot give you a child. Furthermore, we cannot grow old together because I cannot grow old. I understand if these particular factors will cause you to terminate our relationship."

Faith blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was saying. Her breathing became erratic. "Data, are you breaking up with me?"

"I do not wish to," he said. "I was merely stating that I could not give you those things if they are what you desire."

It took her a moment to realize he was self-conscious. The panic faded away, replaced by affectionate understanding. Faith smiled and moved her chair closer before reaching for his hand.

"I don't need children to be happy," she said. "And as long as you don't trade me in for some young hot ensign when I'm old and gray, the growing older thing doesn't bother me."

"You may change your mind down the road."

"Yeah, well, you might too," she said with a shrug. "But we don't need to think about those things because they're only hypothetical situations. If I learned anything from Counselor Troi it's that we have to focus on the here and now. Otherwise, we'll get tangled in the 'maybes' and 'what ifs' until they strangle us."

Data studied her for a few moments, his hand unmoving underneath hers. "As I understand it, our relationship is progressing to a more serious status," he said. "I was only attempting to provide you with all the facts so you may make an informed decision about continuing."

"I know. But you don't have to worry. I'm not going anywhere. Are you?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Do you want children, Data?"

"Since the passing of Lal, I have not considered attempting again."

Faith knew about Lal. She had seen the painting of Data's daughter some time ago. He explained what had happened and she had offered her remorse already. But she hadn't asked if he wanted to try again as it seemed too personal at the time.

"But it is a possibility," he added.

"Well, I'm not entirely opposed to the idea but how about we cross that bridge when we get to it?"

"That is an Earth saying I am familiar with," he said almost proudly. "I agree. Let us discuss it in the future."

"Good." She slid her hand to cup the back of his neck, bringing him into a deep kiss.

He responded automatically, lips moving eagerly as his hand squeezed hers. When they parted, they remained with their foreheads touching.

"Last night was the best night of my life," she said in a soft voice.

"It was most intriguing."

"I'm sorry I didn't return the favor."

"There is no need to apologize. I do not have sexual needs."

"It's not about needs, Data. It's about sharing the experience. About wanting to make the other person feel as good as they make you feel."

"I cannot feel. While I do have a sense of touch, I cannot experience pain or pleasure." He paused, considering her words. "However, I did appreciate the closeness we shared last night and the way you looked during our intimate moment. It did make me...curious."

Faith felt a stab of desire deep in her belly. "Oh? Curious about what?"

"I am often curious about experiencing all aspects of human life, including sex."

Grinning, she rose from her chair and slid onto his lap, looping her arms around his neck. "I'm more than happy to help."

"I have compiled a list of sexual acts and positions that will be beneficial for both of us in terms of pleasurable for you and pleasing for me."

Her heart skipped a beat. Stars only knew what was on that list. Data had access to every bit of digital knowledge he could access. Just the thought gave her heart palpitations.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what's on the list," she said.

"It is extensive."

"Well, what's at the top?"

Data stared into her eyes. "Perhaps we should return to your bunk."

Heart hammering in her chest, Faith rose to her feet, taking Data by the hands and pulling him out of the kitchen.

There was intent in his stare. It was the same calculating look he had when he worked, the one he had last night. She realized it was the look that meant he was giving his entire focus to something. Which for someone with a positronic brain, that was the highest compliment imaginable.

Once they were in the sleeping quarters, he spoke again.

"Last night after your orgasm, I was curious about how you would look pleasuring me. I understand if you do not wish to at this time. I am more than capable of focusing on your pleasure, as you can actually feel it."

Faith felt like he was backtracking, trying to give her a way out. But she didn't need one. "As I said, it's about sharing the experience," she said, sliding her arms around his waist. "If you want me to pleasure you, all you have to do is ask."

She noticed the twitch in Data's throat as he swallowed. It almost seemed like he was nervous.

"Faith, can you pleasure me?"

She kissed him, clinging to his waist in excitement. Data squeezed her hips before his hand cupped her cheek. They remained that way for a few minutes, kissing heatedly.

Faith slowly slid her hands up his back, searching for the zipper of his uniform. Once she found it, she pulled back to look him in the eye. After a deep breath, she dragged it down. His clothing loosened the further the zipper went.

Gently, she took the open ends of the fabric and, with his help, peeled it off his chest. His skin was pale and flawless. She admired the plains of his chest, tracing them with her fingertips.

Data remained still, watching her. She leaned up and kissed him again. There was hesitation in his response which made her pause to check in.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You're allowed to change your mind too you know."

"I find myself...concerned about what you might think when you see me like this," he admitted.

"You have nothing to be self-conscious about," she assured him. "I want you. All of you. Just the way you are."

He gave her a small smile before kissing her again. She responded enthusiastically, trying to show him exactly how she felt since words weren't going to do it justice.

Her hands continued their exploration, mapping his bare chest and back before continuing lower. Her hands brushed against the fabric around his waist, making her intentions clear before she pulled it down his hips.

His uniform crumpled at his feet and Faith drew away from the kiss, searching Data's face to make sure he was alright. When she reached down, her hand met smooth skin before finding rough curls. She had expected him to be wearing underwear but he clearly hadn't felt it was necessary.

She ran her hand along his length for the first time, her body growing warm at the implications. Data's eyes strayed downwards to watch her. She didn't look at first, too focused on his thoughtful expression.

She wondered what he was thinking at that moment. He seemed to watch her stroke him with rapt attention. His cock wasn't quite hard yet, but after a moment or two of stimulation, it began to swell against her palm.

Faith looked down.

Fully functional indeed, she thought, her breath catching in her throat.

Even half-hard the thickness of him was noticeable. Whoever made him had certainly made a point to endow him well.

Faith kept stroking Data, watching as he grew harder until his cock was sticking straight out towards her. It was a wonderful sight.

"Is this what you had in mind?" she asked, eyes flickering up to meet his.

Data was already staring at her. "Yes."

"What do you think?"

"Intriguingly erotic."

She kissed him deeply, hand still stroking his length as he stepped out of his uniform, leaving him fully naked. Letting go of his cock, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back, breaking the kiss so he was forced to sit on the bunk.

Faith sunk on her knees in front of him.

Data watched with wide eyes, head tilting as he studied her. "You know I will not feel your mouth on me."

"But you can see it," she said, pushing her hair back. She paused. "Unless you don't want me to. I can go back to using my hand."

"No, please continue."

Faith gave him what she hoped was a sultry smile before placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock. It didn't twitch or jump when she put her mouth around him. There was no taste to him, not really. She moved up and down on his shaft, closing her eyes and losing herself in the task.

It was a strange experience. She was used to some kind of indication that what she was doing was working. But with Data, none of the usual signs were there. She had to look for other indicators. He didn't moan or make noise.

However, if she listened carefully, she could hear his breathing pick up. She knew his internal systems were self-cooling. If he was breathing heavier, it meant that he was burning hotter and she hoped that had to do with her mouth.

Suddenly, his long fingers ran through her hair, pushing it long strands back from her face where they had fallen.

She opened her eyes, meeting his as she bobbed her head up and down on his lap. His mouth hung slightly open, almost as if he were stunned by what he saw. She took that as a good sign, closing her eyes once more.

Faith worked him with her mouth and hand, following each upward movement with a stroke before taking him all the way in again. Hesitantly, he thrust his hips upwards to meet her, burying himself halfway down her throat. Her eyes watered as she tried not to gag, forcing herself to swallow around him. That drew an audible reaction out of him but it wasn't the one she wished for.

"Please stop."

Faith immediately pulled away, letting him slip from her mouth. "Are you okay? Was that too much?” she asked breathlessly.

"I want to kiss you."

He pulled her up and onto his lap, immediately sealing his mouth over hers. Faith smiled into the kiss, letting Data take the lead. He seized her hand and closed it around his cock, directing her movements this time.

In the back of her mind, Faith had so many questions about the logistics of his sexual process but she ignored them all in favor of living in the moment. She'd ask another time.

Data's hand was like a vice around hers, forcing her to move faster than she could on her own.

"My orgasm is close."

"Tell me how you wanna finish," she panted against his lips, eyes burning into his.

"Just like this."

Data stared at her when he came. The only change in his expression was a brief closing of his eyes and a rush of air living his mouth. A second later, something warm and sticky coated her hand as his hand left hers, giving her the chance to work him through his orgasm herself.

He came a lot more than she anticipated. It almost seemed endless, or maybe she was so wrapped up in the moment that time trickled to a crawl. She expected his cock to soften once he was finished, but it didn't. Not right away at least.

Data held her close. "I can now remove three items from my list."

Faith laughed, still breathless. "I'm glad."

They remained that way for some time, basking in the warmth of the other.

"Shall I pleasure you now?" he asked.

His words drew attention to the throbbing between her own legs.

"Let me clean up first." She kissed him one more time before sliding off his lap. She looked down at her hand which was still coated in his release. "Would it be rude to ask what this is made of?"

"A modified, water-based lubricant," Data explained, sitting perfectly still. If he wasn't naked, she would never have known anything sexual had happened to him. "Made to simulate ejaculation yet remain safe for my partner."

"Good to know." She considered licking it off for show but lost her nerve. "Be right back."

In the bathroom, she was quick to wash her hands, too eager to get back to Data. Before she left, however, she paused in contemplation, before carefully stripping off her uniform.

He was sitting in the same place when she emerged, fully naked. His eyes scanned her body rapidly.

"I thought I'd save us some time," she said, slowly moving towards him.

Data stood as she approached, eyes never leaving her nude body. For the first time in her life, she didn’t want to cover herself. She felt confident and sexy, if not slightly nervous at what he might think. But Data only gave her one of his soft smiles before one arm slid around her waist to pull her flush against him.

"I believe it is your turn now."

"My turn for wh—ohhhh!"

Before she could finish her sentence, Data pinned her to the nearest wall, kissing her deeply. The sudden action took her breath away, Data stealing the rest with his magnificent mouth. A moment later he dropped to his knees, placing a trail of kisses down her stomach.

"May I use my mouth on you?" he asked, gold eyes meeting hers.

"Stars, yes, please."

He was not tentative in his actions as she had been. Gently spreading her thighs, he buried his face between her legs, lips immediately closing around her clit.

Faith gasped in surprise, hands falling to his head to steady herself. The sudden and intense jolt of pleasure lasted seconds before he withdrew, running his tongue along her aching slit.

It wasn't perfect by any means but it was pretty damn close. His technique was flawless but he seemed like he was trying to go quickly which didn't give Faith enough time to adjust or enjoy.

"Slowly," she cooed, stroking his hair. "Slow down. I want to feel everything you're doing."

Data obeyed, stroking her leisurely with his tongue, first along her slit then up to circle her clit before trailing back down again. She moaned, moving her hips along with his mouth, losing herself in her bliss. With deft swiftness, he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, giving him better access.

He closed his lips around her clit again, sucking gently which pulled a string of swears out of Faith. One of his slender fingers slid inside her and she jerked in surprise before melting against the wall that propped her up.

Her body never felt so alive. Everything stroke and flick of his tongue sent flames licking through her veins. Beads of sweat began to form across her brow as she rocked with Data's mouth, silently pleading for more friction.

"Data," she moaned, eyes closed and head thrown back. "Data, please, more."

A second finger joined his first as his mouth remained closed around her clit, sucking and licking with such precision she was about ready to lose her goddamn mind.

She wasn't going to last. Everything was too perfect, too intense, too good for her to try to draw it out. She didn't even get to warn him. Her orgasm came fast and out of nowhere, pulled from her by Data's talented mouth and exquisite fingers.

Her body froze in place, back arched as she moaned loudly, before slumping against the wall when the waves of pleasure subsided. If his grip wasn’t so strong, she probably would have slumped onto the floor.

Data continued as though nothing happened until Faith haphazardly patted his head. "S-Stop...I'm good. You're good…"

He withdrew, lips glistening from her slick. She watched as his tongue darted out to lick it away.

"What I would not give to be able to taste you," he lamented.

Boneless and thoroughly blissed-out, Faith's sweaty leg slipped from his shoulder. Data stood, swooping in for a kiss which she breathlessly granted. She could taste herself on him. Deep in her chest, a primal sense of ownership took hold. He was hers now, just as she was undoubtedly his.

Their blissful moment was rudely interrupted by the shuttle suddenly jerking, throwing them off their balance.

Fear replaced calm as both rushed to the cockpit to see what had happened. They had barely sat in their seats before it happened again, more violent than before.

"What's going on?" Faith asked, wildly trying to find the source of the problem.

"I do not know," Data said. "All systems are operational. There are no malfunctions. Senors do not detect any disturbances."

The next time the shuttle jerked, they had to hold onto the consoles to keep from being knocked from their seats.

"We are being dragged towards the nearest planet," Faith realized when she managed to get the map up. "Something is pulling us in."

"Engaging thrusters to maximum power," Data said, hands moving so fast they looked like two blurs to Faith. "The pull strong. Contact the Enterprise."

Faith was way ahead of him. She pressed the subspace communicator. "Enterprise, this is Lieutenant Diaz in shuttlecraft three! We are being pulled towards the fourth planet in the system! Do you copy?!"

"Diaz...this...Riker...what...on?"

Whatever had them was breaking up the transmission signal. Faith did her best to try to compensate. The shuttle shook violently as it was suddenly caught in the planet's atmosphere.

"Thrusters are failing," Data announced. "We cannot break free."

"Riker, we're caught!" Faith said, praying that the message got through. "We're going down!"

The shuttle suddenly lost power. Everything seemed to happen at once. They were pulled down towards the planet, thrown about by the shock and change in gravity.

Faith flew out of her seat and onto the floor with a yell. The world spun as the shuttle did and as Faith felt herself being thrown about, she yelled for Data.

Suddenly, his solid body was around hers, pinning her to the floor in an attempt to keep her from bouncing around. With his strength, he held onto the base of the pilot seat, keeping them in place.

The shuttle hit the ground hard, bouncing several times before skidding to a stop.

Faith was shaken but unharmed. She clung to Data the entire time, only loosening her grip when the world finally grew still.

"Faith? Faith! Are you injured?" Data asked.

She pulled back to look at him, gasping when she saw the circuits on his forehead exposed. "Data, your head!"

"I am fine," he assured her. "Are you?"

She nodded, still shaking with fear and adrenaline. "I think so." She reached up to smooth his skin back over his wound where it began to seal itself. "What the hell happened?"

"I do not know." Data got to his feet, helping her to do the same.

The shuttle was dark, say for the weak sunlight that hit the windshield. Not even the emergency lights were on which meant there was literally no power in the shuttle.

Faith's chest felt tight and she tried to take deep breaths to avoid panicking. "What do we do now?"

"Stay here. I will access the emergency supplies."

Data left her embrace to traverse the wrecked shuttle. Faith remained where she was, arms wrapped tightly around her still naked frame. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Each slow breath only seemed to make it worse.

Faith suddenly realized it might not only be anxiety.

"Data," she gasped in a panic. "Data!"

He was back at her side in an instant, his hand clutching hers. "I am here. You are safe now."

She shook her head, gasping for breath. "Can't...breathe."

Her legs gave out and Data caught her before she fell. "Faith, remember your techniques," he urged. "Slow breaths in and out."

"Not...anxiety…" she gasped. "Oxygen…"

The world spun and her lungs shriveled as the lack of breathable air made her struggle. The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was Data yelling her name.

#commander data #lt commander data #data tng #star trek next generation #data soong

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holidayblindspot · 5 years

Text

Season of Hate/Season of Love (part 3/3)

The third and final part of rAnsomedr0gue’s seasonal Reller fic. She doesn’t have a Tumblr account, but I do give her a link to these posts, so please do comment and let her know what you think!

Previous parts are HERE and HERE.

***

Remi wakes with a start, a silent scream still caught in her throat.

It was a nightmare, she realizes. Kurt, getting beaten to death in an alleyway. Arriving too late, sobbing even though there’s no one there to pretend for.

She turns to see if she’s disturbed his sleep and groans when she realizes he’s not in bed. Remi wonders if she reached out for him in the middle of the night, the way her body often does, and hurt him by accident. She had told him she would sleep in the other room, wary of his injuries. But he’d insisted he needed her near him to rest and she had been unreasonably relieved to be able to stay.

It had been a long night of x-rays, CT scans, various other medical procedures. Eventually he’d received nine stitches for a cut above his left eyebrow and been diagnosed with three broken ribs and a concussion. Not bad considering the doctor had been worried about a skull fracture, bleeding in his brain. And about as well as possible considering how he’d looked when she found him in the alley.

Remi shudders, exhales the bad memory. There had been a lot of blood and it hadn’t been immediately obvious that none of it was life-threatening. Her heart had frozen in her chest until he sat up, tried to pretend he was okay. Of course all she could do then was hold him in pure relief, none of it an act.

However much she needs to get rid of him, Remi can’t deny the way it had felt to cradle his stupid heroic self. Her moronic pretend FBI husband who somehow survived an encounter with an armed giant intent on murder suicide. On Christmas Eve.

They’d gone to dinner and he’d saved their server’s life. She was almost glad he’d forgotten his gun or else he’d be insufferable about being right. As it was, he seemed to think his mistake nullified any reason to praise him and had kept apologizing for ruining their night. Even though she told him countless times that she wasn’t upset, kind of wanted to punch him in his already-concussed head for even thinking it.

Remi gets up, really hopes to find him sleeping in the spare room. But when she opens the bedroom door she sees him in the kitchen, making coffee and pulling out breakfast ingredients.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Weller says, looking up as her with a smile. “Merry Christmas.”

Remi sighs, shakes her head at him.

“You should be resting,” she admonishes. “I can make breakfast, you need to take it easy.”

Weller shakes his head at her then winces and frowns at the movement.

“I couldn’t sleep, and you needed the rest. We were at the hospital until past two and I know you didn’t fall asleep for awhile,” he argues. “Besides, Allie’s going to be here soon with Bee and I promised her French toast with berry sauce.”

Remi walks over to him, feels an almost primal need to touch him growing in her gut. Wraps her arms around his hips from behind, rests her head between his shoulders gently.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” she rumbles into his back. “I am so thankful you’re here.”

There’s still so much truth to that statement that she’s momentarily stunned. While Remi had come to accept that some part of her cared about Weller, she’d never been forced to confront the extent of it. But seeing a beast of a man about to break his head, that had made her react so strongly that it was impossible to ignore. And she hasn’t shaken it yet, the fear of losing him.

Kurt turns carefully until her head is just above his collarbone, lying on top of the bullet burn across his chest. It’s hard to even think about it. A bullet that close to his heart, the slightest change in angle and he’d be gone.

Remi looks up at his bruised face, the dried blood on the gauze over his stitches. He’s already developed quite a shiner on his left eye and makes him look soft yet hard, reminds her exactly what he’s like.

“Did you tell Allie what happened?” she asks, thinking of little Bee, how she’s going to react to Weller’s appearance.

“Yeah,” Kurt sighs. “She was pretty upset.”

“Hmmm,” Remi replies. “Yeah well, having to tell Bethany that her Christmas Day visit with daddy is cancelled because he’s dead would probably ruin a lifetime of Christmases for both of them. So I think she has the right.”

“She called me a dumbass about ten times in five minutes,” he groans.

Remi hides a grin into his chest, enjoys it that Allie can call Kurt on his shit so readily.

“And I couldn’t even defend myself. I forgot my gun!” he exclaims irritably. “I’m never going to live it down. I shouldn’t even be here.”

She can feel him suddenly tense up in her arms, become taut with self-blame, what ifs.

Oh Kurt, she thinks. Only Weller could feel bad about getting beat up in an alley while saving a woman’s life.

“Hey, hey,” she mutters into his ear. “Calm down, Kurt. You know she’s just worried about you and that’s how it comes out.”

Remi briefly pictures Allie spitting fire and tears, everyone sobbing. Yet again she is so glad he’s still there, that she isn’t spending Christmas crying with his family, mourning with his team. She’s also pretty darn thankful that her earlier self didn’t kill him back when she hated him more.

The truth is so glaring, it’s impossible to ignore. She had failed again. Made the same mistake twice. Apparently Kurt Weller was her fucking kryptonite.

And here she is, Christmas day, trying to comfort him, his pounding heart under her ear. Thinking how he can be so fragile with her, how it should make her feel disdainful. She has no time for emotions other than anger, hate.

But it’s Kurt, and it’s so sad to see him hurting. So maybe she has the time, a whole day in fact. With overly emotional Weller, who she inexplicably loves.

“Breathe,” she says. Rubs her hand up and down his spine, relishes the warmth of his body up against hers.

Weller must finally hear her because he takes five deep breaths and then lets out a tired sigh. Remi looks up at him, at his face pale and exhausted eyes.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asks, fairly sure she already knows the answer.

He shakes his head just slightly and she can tell he has a bad headache. No wonder he’s especially reactive; he hasn’t slept and is obviously still in pain. He is in no condition to deal with a toddler on Christmas Day, even one that is usually quite well-behaved. And he is going to be extremely upset with himself if anything goes wrong, that she already knows. Which she really doesn’t want.

Kurt deserves a nice day, Remi thinks uncharacteristically. He’s been trying so hard.

“Look, it’s just six am,” she says. “Allie isn’t due until eight, I’m going to text her and get her to bring Bee at eleven instead. You can make French toast for brunch if you insist but only if you get some sleep between now and then.”

She sees Weller forming a ‘no’ with his lips and she shushes him with a finger.

“She’s a toddler, Kurt. She won’t have any idea we started Christmas three hours later than planned. And you need some rest if there’s any hope that this day will turn out the way you want it to. So I’m going to clean your cut and you’re going to close your eyes and relax. Do you want to do this on the couch or the bed?”

Remi wears a look that brooks no argument and, for once, Weller doesn’t try to fight her.

“Couch,” he sighs.

She smiles her relief and takes his hand silently, leads him over to the couch. He is surprisingly docile considering how tense he still is and she thinks he must just be so tired he can’t bother to resist.

Remi starts by sitting him down on the sofa, helping him find a comfortable position for his sore body. Knows from experience the constant pain of broken ribs, how hard it is to get proper rest when it hurts just to lie down. When he’s finally settled, Weller leans his head against the back of the couch, closes his eyes when she can’t help but sift her fingers through his hair.

She fetches the first aid kit and a couple ice packs then returns to tend to Kurt. It’s strange, to want to take care of him, to not be pretending anymore, not even to herself. She remembers when he first got out of the hospital after that abdominal abscess surgery, being disgusted at having to change his bandages. How she had made sure to be ‘accidentally’ too rough as often as she could.

Now she gently wipes at his stitches until all the dried blood has loosened off, ensures that his cut is neat and clean before brushing her lips against his wound, another small soft moment that’s hard to reconcile with her usual hard self. It’s entirely worth it though when he dons a sleepy grin at the kiss, blindly reaches for her hand.

Remi responds automatically, grasps his hand tightly and weaves her fingers between his. She brings their hands up to her lips, plants a kiss on his thumb. Then impulsively she brings their matched hands to her own chest, holds them there against her heartbeat.

It’s a thing that Kurt does and it’s always made her feel uncomfortable. It’s much too intimate, more emotional than kissing or sex because she can feel how special it is to Jane. So of course she’s never thought to initiate it before, but at the moment Remi instinctively knows it will soothe him.

His eyes flicker open for a moment and settle on their hands against her heart. He’s wearing a soft satisfied smile, looks at with such love that she feels tears rise unexpectedly, turns to blinks them away before glancing back to see if Kurt’s noticed.

But thankfully he’s already fallen asleep, his lips still wearing a gentle upwards curve. So she kisses his hand one more time before letting it go, resists the urge to run her fingers through his scruffy hair again. Stands up and looks down at him fondly, so glad he’s getting some rest before the small whirlwind known as his daughter arrives.

There’s a chance she will still need to kill him. But first he’s going to have the Christmas he deserves with his daughter and a wife that loves him. Even if it’s not his wife.

***

Kurt wakes to a tender kiss, thinks it must be one of those dreams where you think you’ve woken up but you’re still dreaming.

He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, not wanting the experience to end. It feels so real, like a memory come to life. Jane wanting to touch him, initiating physical contact. A fragment of their lives before they found out she was sick.

Finally, he has to see for himself and opens his eyes, confirms that he’s curled up on the couch and Jane is leaning over him, her lips on his.

I should almost die more often, he thinks idly. It’s the closest she’s been for so long.

Of course that thought is immediately followed with a wave of guilt, the thought that she should not have to be worrying about him on Christmas. Especially considering it was all due to his own stupidity.

He tries to wipe away the negative mood, revel in the moment as Jane trails a line of kisses from his mouth to his jaw and then up to his bruised eye. She finishes with her lips against his left temple, her breath warm in his ear.

“Time to wake up,” she whispers. “Allie and Bee are going to be here in less than an hour.”

Jane stands up and he reaches for her reflexively, too aroused to think about his movements. Then immediately pays for it when his broken ribs remind him of reality, jolt him awake with a grunt of pain.

Jane passes him some ibuprofen and a glass of water without commenting on the pathetic noise he just made. She is being so good to him, he can’t help but revel in it. Even though he feels unmanly somehow, letting her take care of him while she’s sick. Especially because his injuries are entirely his own fault.

He forgot to bring his gun to a gun fight. It’s so ridiculous he can’t even think about it.

Vaguely he knows he’s being hard on himself when he should focus on the fact that it’s Christmas and he’s about to spend the day with his daughter and his wife, the two people he loves most. But it’s so easy to think about what could have been, how the hell Jane would have explained it to Allie and Bee.

“Kurt, snap out of it,” she says, as if she’s reading his mind. “Everything’s fine. Christmas is going to be great.”

Weller tries to focus on Jane, is thankful that the pounding in his head has ebbed to a minor throb after some sleep. He tells himself to believe her words, that he isn’t going to ruin the day by being a mopey bastard. That he has a wife who loves him, a daughter he adores.

“Do you want to try and shower before they come?” she asks.

As much as he likes the idea of coercing Jane into the shower with him, reality sinks in quickly when it takes all he has just to pull himself into a sitting position, get his feet on the ground. Every movement makes his broken ribs grate painfully and he wonders how he’s going to deal with Bee flinging herself at him the way she usually does.

“Uh, I don’t know if I can,” he admits.

“I thought you might say that,” Jane replies sympathetically. “So I started running the bath. I think that’ll be easier.”

Kurt looks up at her gratefully, takes the hand she’s holding out to him and lets her gently help him up from the couch. When he’s standing he expects her to let go but she keeps pulling him towards her until she can wrap her arms around him.

“Does your head feel better?” she asks, scrutinizing his eyes for clues.

He nods and manages not to wince, or feel sick. Definite improvement, he thinks.

“Good,” she sighs. “Now let’s see what a bath does for the rest of you.”

Jane turns and leads him to the washroom, sits him on the edge of the tub as she unbuttons and removes his pajama shirt. Then stands him up again to drop his pants to his ankles, help him step out of the and into the bath without jostling his ribs too much.

She lets him get settled in the tub before starting to bathe him, running a soapy washcloth over his lurid bruises, gently rubbing shampoo into his hair. Despite all his injuries, it feels fantastic to just sit there in the hot water, let it soothe his aching body as Jane scrubs him clean, rinses him off and then helps him stand up, wraps him in a giant towel.

Life with Jane is the best present he could ever imagine. On Christmas or any other day. Even when he’s an achy mess, feels down on himself.

Kurt lets her lead him into their bedroom, sit him on the bed and finish toweling him off. Then she lightly rubs analgesic muscle relaxant over his chest, frowning at the all mottled bruises already starting to darken.

He reminds himself not to tell her that it’s worth being in that much pain to have her touch him like that. No matter how true it is, it’s self-pitying, pathetic.

“That must hurt a lot,” she murmurs, running her fingers over the deep purple of his torso.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles.

“Liar,” she replies, a proud but exasperated look in her eyes. “I’ve put some clothes out for you then if you’re so fine. Get dressed, they’re going to be here in ten minutes.”

She leaves him to consider his mistake as he stares at the clothing, tries to mentally will it onto his body. Getting his boxers and a pair of sweatpants pulled up to his waist takes nearly five minutes and leaves him sweaty with the effort. He’s only managed to do up a few buttons on his shirt when there’s a knock at the front door and Weller’s suddenly filled with excitement, so ready to see Bethany that he forgets to worry about her being a human missile sometimes.

By the time he’s got his shirt done up Jane has already let Allie and Bee in and opens the door to their room to check on his progress, smiles when she sees he’s dressed.

“Looking good, Special Agent,” she teases as she steps aside to let him out the door.

His daughter must have been searching for him because she comes hurtling at him right as he steps out of the bedroom, clearly expecting to be swept up in his arms as usual. Kurt beams reflexively but then realizes his predicament, knows he’s going to end up shouting and scaring Bee if he tries to pick her up and that she’s going to be very disappointed if he doesn’t.

Thankfully Jane reads the situation perfectly and intercepts Bethany by sweeping her into a huge hug first before ‘flying’ her over to him and gently placing her in his arms. Even just supporting her toddler weight is a challenge but he manages to breathe through it as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes as hard as she can.

“Hi Daddy,” she screeches with glee. “Is Christmas!”

It’s insane that a drunken fuck up could have brought so much pure joy into his life. Maybe the only good thing to have come out of finding Taylor, arresting Jane.

“Hi Bee,” he replies enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas.”

He snuggles his daughter until his body screams and then Allie comes and pulls Bethany off of him, reminds her that they have to be gentle with daddy because he’s hurt.

“Daddy, owie,” Bee says, pointing at Kurt’s black eye and nodding seriously.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty big owie alright,” Allie agrees as she passes Bee off to Jane and steps forward to wrap him into a hug.

“We would have both been devastated,” she mutters into his ear. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

She holds him for a lot longer than expected and there’s a shimmer to her eyes when she finally lets go and runs her thumb over his bruised face.

“Now make us that goddamned berry French toast that Bee won’t shut up about,” she demands.

“Yes, ma’am,” Weller replies, still a bit stunned at how emotional everyone is being about him. He still feels guilty extracting sympathy for having made such a monumental error. But he can’t deny that it does feel good to be cared about, especially on Christmas.

He walks over to the kitchen and starts making a berry compote while Jane and Bee examine the ornaments on the tree and Allie quietly asks him for details on the previous night. He gives her the full blow by blow, knows she won’t let it go until he does. But at least she refrains from calling him any names, just shakes her head at him when he admits why he hadn’t been wearing his holster.

Weller serves up breakfast, but somewhat disastrously forgets he’s not supposed to laugh when Bethany’s eyes light up maniacally at the powdered sugar being dusted on her French toast.

The laughing leads to a moment of panicked pain, then some wracked coughing before his ribs stop screaming at him and his vision clears up.

He hadn’t even noticed Jane getting up to rub his back, Allie distracting Bethany by feeding her breakfast, telling her that there was nothing to be worried about. He feels so useless and horrible in the moment, frightening his little girl by sputtering in pain, unable to even laugh without screwing things up.

But then he hears Jane muttering in his ear, telling him to breathe, that the pain is only temporary, that he’s going to be okay. And, once his heart rate settles, the panic in his chest fades too, lets him look up and smile reassuringly at Bee, who instantly changes her little toddler frown into a matching grin.

“Sorry honey,” he apologizes, walking over to kiss his daughter. “I didn’t mean to scare you. How’s your French toast?”

“Yummy!” she shouts, any fear clearly already forgotten.

Bethany shows off her berry-stained smile, reaches up for another hug. He wants to pick her up but realizes it’s a bad idea just as Jane comes around and scoops Bee up towards him so she can wrap her sticky hands around his neck and he can hug them both without the risk of dropping his kid or crying out in pain.

Kurt stands there, one arm wrapped around his daughter, the other around his wife. Sees Allie smiling broadly as she takes a photo of their cute Christmas moment.

What would he do without the women in his life?

Certainly he’d be a mess. Probably miserable and alone, wallowing in guilt. Not feeding his daughter her favourite ‘bewwy’ sauce, stealing fruity holiday kisses from his wife.

Somehow his near fatal mistake hasn’t ruined things, and he feels so loved it brings tears to his eyes again. Which doesn’t make any sense to him, that he could screw up so badly yet things could turn out so perfectly. But for once he’s not going to overthink the issue, is just going to accept his incredibly good fortune. After all, it’s rather fitting that his best Christmas with Jane involves a life or death incident, broken ribs and a concussion.

***

She was raised on hardness, no time for sentiment. The only love she and Roman had ever experienced after the death of their birth parents was tough love, even for each other. A product of a life of harsh environments, intense competition, where affection was a rare commodity to be hoarded.

Remi always thought, was always afraid, that she didn’t know how to love. Even with all her boyfriends, even with Oscar. Because she was so steeped in hate, raised on it. She thought she’d loved Oscar, but then she had left him so readily, could have easily chosen not to. The mission had meant so much more than what she felt for Oscar, it was all that really mattered to her.

Somehow she knows it hadn’t been nearly as easy for Jane to leave Kurt, that she only managed to force herself away because her presence put them in danger. Jane left to save him, give him a life with his kid. Because he was what mattered to her, nothing else.

It’s what made her so jealous, angry. That Jane got the chance she never had. A blank slate. A chance at love.

Because how could Remi have learned love from a mother that was willing to sacrifice her own daughter?

She watches as Weller helps Bethany push a giant snowball through the park, makes her clap and shout with happiness as he picks it up gingerly and puts it on top of the one they had previously made.

“Okay, now we just need a head,” he comments. “One more snowball?”

“One more!” Bee hollers, already smashing snow together to get things started.

It is beyond obvious that there is nothing Kurt Weller would ever sacrifice his daughter for. That he would hurt anyone that even suggested it.

What’s troubling is that, right now, she feels the same way. She wouldn’t trade Bethany’s life for anything, not even to free Shepherd. It’s an unsettling feeling to realize that her terrorist goal of regime change can suddenly not mean anything when love is in play. That she will never be able to kill Kurt Weller, even if she keeps telling herself she will, even if her mission requires it.

As if to prove the point, Remi’s chest warms as she looks up to see Kurt and Bee charging up to her, all rosy cheeks and soggy gear. The moment of affection costs her as she realizes too late that it’s an ambush and can’t avoid the oncoming barrage of snowballs, takes hit after hit before finally managing to scoop up some ammunition of her own, start firing back.

Thankfully Weller can’t really throw hard due to his ribs and she ends up turning Bethany into a double agent, sends her in for a sneak attack that ends up with the three of them soaking, Kurt asking for mercy. He’s got the look of a fevered young boy, joyous but exhausted when she reaches up to kiss his snow-cooled lips, their breath all steamy around them.

After the snow battle she scoops the tired child up in her arms and they walk home, Bee still awake enough to remember that she gets presents next. The toddler babbles on about Santa while Kurt walks beside them and beams at his kid. It is all sickeningly cute. But Remi loves it anyways, can even admit it at the moment.

Of course there’s hot chocolate once they’re back inside and changed into dry clothes, the sugar in the drink breathing energy back into Bethany. She starts in on her stocking, marveling at all the trinkets in the way only a two year old can. And Kurt is so relaxed, all smiles as he gives his daughter way too many presents, everything her little heart desires.

Remi watches and thinks about her own gift to Kurt, all the anxiety she has tied up around it. He’s made no mention of anything for her yet either, which seems out of character for him.

She still wonders if she made the right choice; it had been really difficult to come up with what Jane would give him. Other than more of those crime novels he’s obsessed with, except he already has all of them, of course.

Remi’s still thinking about it nervously when there’s a knock on the door and she looks at Weller, surprised. They aren’t expecting anyone else for Christmas and Allie isn’t due back until dinner. But she notes that Kurt is looking at the door with a rather self-satisfied expression as she gets up to answer it.

When she opens the door and Avery is standing there shouting Merry Christmas, Remi realizes she should have guessed. Even though Avery didn’t know about Jane’s diagnosis, had been spending the holidays with a best friend from home. Kurt would have wanted Jane to have at least one Christmas with her daughter, would have found a way.

“Merry Christmas! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!” Remi exclaims, her emotions all stirred up. She wraps Avery into a hug, bites down hard on her own lip. She had not expected this, has to blink away tears.

“Yeah, and I brought your other gift from Kurt too,” Avery replies cryptically. “Because he’s incapacitated. I just have to haul it in.”

Curiosity piqued, Remi stands there, feels Kurt approach from behind. He wraps his arms around her waist, leans into her gently.

“I didn’t tell her your diagnosis,” he whispers in her ear. “I just said you weren’t feeling well and it was her idea to come.”

“Sure it was,” Remi replies as she turns to face him.

Kurt grins, looks so fucking proud of himself.

“Merry Christmas Jane,” he says fondly.

“Thank you, Kurt,” she replies, the damn tears threatening again. She had never expected to meet her daughter, much less spend Christmas with her.

Avery returns with a gigantic beanbag chair and Remi grins genuinely at the ridiculous object. Kurt had found her lounging in one after an exhausting day arresting criminals ended in a furniture warehouse. She had been so comfortable she was almost asleep when Weller surprised her by leaping on top of her, then snuggling in beside her.

Now she can admit it had been pretty cute. Special Agent Weller all curled up on the job in a giant beanbag. The image comes back to her head, makes her smile again at the memory.

They pull the chair into the apartment and Bee looks at it with wide eyes, then shyly runs up to the big sister she’s only recently met. Avery pulls the toddler into a hug and then tosses her into the beanbag, much to Bethany’s delight.

“More!” she shouts, clearly an adrenaline junkie like her parents.

Remi takes over the task of entertaining Bethany to give Avery a chance to talk to Kurt. He seems to understand her daughter better than she does, gets on just fine with her even after Avery helped set him up, almost destroyed his marriage.

“I can’t believe you got shot on Christmas Eve,” Avery frowns, wrapping her arms gingerly around Kurt. “That is not cool.”

“I didn’t get shot, the bullet barely touched me,” Weller grumbles. “I’m fine.”

“If there was blood from a bullet, you got shot,” Avery argues. “And yea, you look so fine. How would you feel if I hugged you a little tighter?”

Remi grins at Avery’s demanding, worried tone, Weller’s useless attempts to deflect her concern. Finding her daughter as a result of ZIP-ping herself was the most unlikely result she could have ever imagined. She had never let herself think about searching for her, Shepherd would have never allowed it. But the chance to meet her kid, see how she’d turned out. It meant even more to her than she realized.

A bit later, just before dinner, they’ve somehow all managed to squeeze onto the beanbag, even Weller and his sore ribs. Remi looks at her fake family and thinks she’s never had a Christmas like this. For her it’s been a childhood of stark loveless military style holidays, an adulthood that had no space for celebratory love.

She realizes it’s time to give Kurt her present, suddenly feels extremely anxious. Remi is not a timid person, yet she’s nervous about this, really hopes she got it right. It had been a real conundrum; one she couldn’t exactly ask anyone for help with. She had tried so hard to think like Jane, channel her hated alter ego for this one favour. And of course Jane would think about about what matters most to Weller, would give him something straight from the heart.

Remi extracts herself from the heap of bodies, goes and gets the present from under the tree. Passes it to Kurt who’s just about managed to sit up in the big floppy chair.

“Merry Christmas, Kurt,” she says shyly.

He opens it carefully, looks a bit apprehensive himself. When it’s finally out of the wrapping, he stares at it wordlessly for a long time, then looks up at her with moist eyes.

“It’s perfect,” he says.

Remi feels all her worry fall away, warmth pumping through her heart.

“Daddy and Jane and Avewy and meeeeeee!” Bethany calls out, pointing at the framed drawing in Kurt’s lap.

Weller smiles broadly, his eyes still glistening.

“It sure is, Bee,” he replies. “It’s beautiful, Jane.”

It’s all Kurt Weller wants, what he loves best. His wife, his little girl. His big girl that he readily takes responsibility for, because that’s the kind of man he is.

And if she can give it to him, even just for a day? He deserves it. For Christmas.

Remi crawls back into the beanbag, snuggles up against Kurt who’s lying back, still staring at the picture with a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad you like it,” she says, settling in close beside him.

Weller passes the drawing over so Avery and Bethany can see, turns his attention to his wife. The look in his eyes is overly expressive, the way it always is for her.

“I love it,” he replies.

“And I love you,” he adds, with an air of reverence.

“She knows,” Avery groans. “You tell her all the time.”

Remi laughs, nuzzles her nose into the crook of Kurt’s neck.

“I know,” she murmurs. “I love you too.”

She could never have seen this coming, Love, a family. Making her teenager scurry off to check on dinner by kissing her husband too passionately on an absurd piece of furniture.

The thing is, it’s not her life. It doesn’t belong to her. She should be so very disdainful of it.

Remi had woken up six months ago with a husband she hated voraciously, alone and spiteful in a world gone wrong. But if someone came in tonight to try and tried to hurt him, she knows she would defend him to her last breath. Even though it would mean failing her mission, giving up on Shepherd.

Because he’s a good-hearted stubborn bastard, Mr tough guy Fed with a thoughtful loving soul. And right now she wants this more than anything. For him and for herself. Their family all together on a perfect Christmas day, Kurt at peace with himself, feeling loved.

Even if it isn’t really her family, even if she has to give it all back to Jane one day. This is her Christmas present to her other self.

I saved him for you, Jane, she thinks as he trails pre-dinner kisses up her neck. And gave him the Christmas he deserved.

Because Kurt Weller won her over too. Screwed things up epically by making her love him, giving her the best goddamned Christmas of her life.

#season of hate/season of love #jeller #reller #remi/kurt #blindspot #blindspot in a winter wonderland

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lloydskywalkers · 6 years

Text

skywalker syndrome

-and its resulting karma, ahaha

Coming in late to the party here, but this Lloyd-gets-a-robot-arm is the good stuff, you guys. Good enough to drag me from homework for 7K words worth of rambling, apparently. And hngh I know that it’s movie-verse but I just. I had an idea for the show, and it wouldn’t let go of me so here’s! this disaster, mostly spawned from my excessive reading of FMA fics back in the day.

(Takes place during season 9, btw!)

It’s nearing the height of dusk when the scream rings out across the city, the sky a midnight blue behind the smoky streaks left from fires as the agonized cry echoes loudly across the empty, near-haunted streets, reverberating from building to half-wrecked building. Ronin stiffens at the sound, his hands clenching sharply around the hilt of the knife tucked in his belt. He goes still, the tail end of the scream slowly fading around him where he stands half-hidden in the alley, shrouded in the darkness left by the shattered street lights.

The group of bikers he’s hiding from seem to take a similar reaction, their normal manic expressions replaced by the same alarm, the same looks of discomfort Ronin knows he wears as the hairs on his neck crawl. There are several exchanged glances, a burst of rude chatter, and the Sons of Garmadon are gone, racing back down the streets with a roar of engines as loud as they came with.

Ronin exhales, letting his hand stray from the knife. He’s never been one to avoid risks, but in a time like this, cutting it close is a little too close for him. He ought to keep a better eye out as he heads back.

He spares one last glance at the darkened sky, his thoughts straying to the scream. While it’s not uncommon to hear a cry echo out across Ninjago City, especially in these days, there was something undeniably eerie about this one, a sinking kind of dread that claws at Ronin’s heart even now that it’s long-faded.

He swallows, shaking off the feeling best he can. Whoever they are, he can only hope they either escaped or met a quick, painless end. Either way, it’s not his problem.

He really should have known better, with the crowd he hangs out with.

********

“M’sorry.”

“It’s not your fault — Pixal, help me, I’m losing my grip-“

“Sorry.”

“Here, grab his ar-“ There’s a sharp, shaking inhale. “Just hold him up, we’re almost back to the warehouse-“

“M’sorry, Nya-“

“Stop apologizing and stay awake, just —! Pixal, can you - hey, no no no, eyes on me, okay?”

“S’my fault.”

“I said eyes on me!”

********

It’s Lloyd’s own stupid fault, that’s what it comes down to.

Not that everything going horribly-pear-shaped wrong due to a classic Lloyd screw-up is anything new, but Nya’s trying her best to push that it’s not, and Lloyd appreciates it, but this time, it actually, truly, very-much-without-a-doubt is his fault.

“Five minutes,” Ronin growls, stalking through the warehouse. “I leave for five minutes, and - and this happens?”

He gestures wildly at Lloyd, who’s still lying half-trapped in Nya’s embrace and is unlikely to escape anytime soon. Skylor glares at him.

“Keep it down,” she says, her voice hushed but strained. “We didn’t have anything to sedate him with.”

Ronin swears, but the horror’s more evident in his voice now. He gives the busted table chair a half-hearted kick, before collapsing wearily in it, grinding a palm against his eyes. “How’s he holding up?”

Lloyd feels a gentle hand card through his hair, and his heart hurts at how he can feel Nya’s fingers still trembling.

“He’s alive,” Nya breathes, small and quiet. “That’s what matters.”

“The surgery was successful at halting the bleeding,” Pixal murmurs from somewhere to his right. “That’s the best we can do for now.”

There’s a choked sob nearby, which Lloyd recognizes as his mother. Mystake’s gravelly tones pick up, though her words don’t entirely make it through the cloudy haze that’s settled in Lloyd’s brain. He frowns — or tries to, he thinks — when his mouth won’t move. He wants to tell them that he’s fine. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore, really. There’s a constant ache, and if he moves there’s a seventy percent chance he’s gonna break down crying, but compared to the fiery agony from earlier, this is nothing. He feels off-balance if anything, like someone’s shifted him too far to one side. Lighter, like he’s lost some heavy weight that used to be there.

Lloyd frowns, and he feels his eyebrows moving this time. He strains, trying to pull his right arm closer. He’s met with that off-balance feeling again, except this time there’s an odd kind of emptiness. His frown grows deeper, and he tries to move his fingers, to get his right hand to move-

“Hey, it’s okay, go back to sleep.” Nya’s voice is soft and familiar, comforting in a way only Nya is, and Lloyd feels her hand in his hair again. “I’ve got you, okay? Just go back to sleep.”

Lloyd wants to protest, but he lets it go, exhaustion pulling him back under. A nagging part of him fights it, wondering why there’s an undercurrent of heartbreak in Nya’s voice. Wonders why his mother was sobbing, why Ronin was so angry, why Pixal kept going on about a surger-

Lloyd’s eyes snap open. He stares blankly up at the ceiling of the warehouse, memory crashing back down on him with all the subtle force of a wrecking ball.

Oh yeah, he thinks dully, as he stops trying to move his right arm.

He doesn’t have one anymore.

*****

“You know, out of everyone, I think you’re the best with handling stitches.”

Nya doesn’t look up from his ar— from his…shoulder, but she gives a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

“Like, it’s not that hard a competition, ‘cause Kai always looks like he’s gonna puke instead, Cole an’ Zane seem like they’re gonna start crying, and Jay’s more likely to sew his sleeve to you instead, but still.”

Nya finally snorts at that, and Lloyd feels the darkened, crushing weight that’s made itself at home on his chest lift a little bit.

“Cole��s actually better at it,” she says quietly, carefully dragging the antiseptic-soaked cloth over the wound again. “I get pretty emotional sometimes too.”

“Well—” Lloyd trips over his own tongue as something in his shoulder sears hot, and he tries to hide the flinch (Nya’s looked sad enough recently). “I still think you’re the best. And that’s not a knock on you, uh, being a girl and stuff, since this is technically sewing, you know, and that’s usually-“

“Let it go while you’re ahead, green machine,” but Nya’s smiling for real this time. She gives him a look. “Besides, we all know you’re the best seamstress after Zane. I saw what you did with your uniform.”

“M’not a seamstress,” Lloyd argues. “I’m a…seamst-er? That sounds wrong…”

Nya shakes her head in amusement, and, to Lloyd’s eternal relief, finally begins to wrap the bandages around what’s left of his upper arm.

There’s not much. Lloyd swallows thickly, finally sparing it a glance now that the actual wound’s hidden from view. There’s his shoulder, there’s the end of it, there’s some bandages, and then—

Nothing. Just empty space.

The warm weight of Nya’s hand finds his own (his only), squeezing briefly. “It is hurting again?”

Lloyd shakes his head. “No,” he says. It’s not entirely a lie. The weight sitting on his chest hurts a lot more.

Nya hesitates, her breath hitching. “Are you hurting again?”

Lloyd pauses, looking down at where his legs hang over the edge of the table. He plays the look on her face that night over again in his head, the shaking of her hands. Lloyd shakes his head.

“No,” he says, pasting a smile across his lips. “I’m fine.”

Nya doesn’t look like she believes him, but that’s alright. Lloyd doesn’t really know if he does, himself.

******

The thing nobody seems to get is that he brought this entirely on himself. Like, yeah, it was terrible and painful and Lloyd’s got so much blood left on his uniform he may as well be Kai at this point, and he’s probably gonna have to make some drastic adjustments to his fighting style — definitely will, because his fighting style won’t even work anymore, the arm he’d hold his katana with is gone now, and FSM he’s gonna have to learn how to do everything again-

Inhale. Deep breath. Freaking out isn’t going to make it better.

Lloyd exhales shakily, and his heart rate returns to something a little more manageable.

So. Anyways. It’s Lloyd’s fault, and that means he doesn’t get to curl up in a corner so no one can see him trying not to cry over the fact that he can’t get his stupid armor strap to buckle with one hand.

Lloyd bites his lip furiously, fingers — he’s only got five of them now, looks like he’s finally gonna have to learn how to do math in his head — fumbling clumsily with the strap, leather slipping through his hold as the strap falls loose. He tightens his grip on it, bringing his knee up to — to try and pin it down, maybe he can — teeth, maybe? Whatever it takes to get this strap to stay still, because the hand he’d usually use to hold it is — is—

Lloyd sniffs miserably, then wipes furiously at his eyes. Don’t, he tells himself viciously. Don’t cry. He can’t cry, he doesn’t get to, not when he knows what the alternative is. Really, in contrast, losing his arm is — it’s—

Well, it’s not great. It’s definitely not something Lloyd’s ever had on his bucket list, that’s for sure, but it’s what he ended up with. It’s just like the Tomorrow’s Tea, like the responsibility of murdering his dad, like Uncle Wu suddenly dropping team leadership out of the sky and into his lap. Lloyd sure as heck didn’t want it, but it’s what he got, so he’s gotta deal with it. No use in overthinking the what-ifs or unfairs.

It would, of course, be a little easier to put up with if it’d stop hurting so much. Lloyd grits his teeth against the throbbing ache, too-sharp incisors digging into his lip. He forces his jaw to relax before he cuts his lip again, and gives a sharp exhale instead. It’s just in his head — the pain’s just in his head, he reminds himself. There’s no arm there to ache in the first place, even if he swears he can still feel the limb, still feel the ache in his elbow, his wrist, his fingers that aren’t freaking there anymore-

“Phantom limb,” Pixal tells him clinically, after having dragged him from his hidden corner of self-pity and general loathing of the universe on the whole. “It’s normal for amputees.”

“Oh.” Lloyd bites his lip again, staring at the empty space where his arm should be, trying to force back the blurring in his eyes. He appreciates that Pixal’s being straight up with him — that she’s not looking at him with that heartbroken sort of pity, trying to soften every word like she’s talking to a wild animal about to bolt, he really does. But it just-

Amputee. His arm’s really gone for good, huh. Weird seems like too underwhelming a word, but that’s all Lloyd’s brain is giving him right now. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, it’s more like a numb sort of blunt shock that keeps socking him in the head every time he thinks about it. But that’s alright, he tells himself. It’s just gonna take some adjustment. He’d known this. He’d known exactly what he was getting himself into he made his choice.

So he can get over it already. He’s fine. He doesn’t really have the time not to be, he thinks, as the crashing sounds of the Colossi echo from the TV set again.

He also really, really needs to get better at pasting that smile on his face. Because while Lloyd might be fine, the, uh….the accident hasn’t exactly been a great motivational point for their little resistance. Nya tries her very best not to cry but ends up sobbing into Lloyd’s empty sleeve anyways, because she tried to hold his hand when Pixal re-did the stitches and she realized it wasn’t there, then promptly broke into a steadily-devolving stream of “I should have protected you!” sort of shtick Lloyd is used to hearing from Kai.

His mom starts crying the minute she sees him and Lloyd’s pretty sure she hasn’t stopped since. Lloyd would try to comfort her more, but the last time he tried that, he panicked and resorted to making terrible puns about arms, which he’s pretty sure just made her start crying harder. Pixal swings back and forth between nagging at him to take better care of the wound and rattling off other accounts she’s read from people who’ve lost limbs with an almost desperate sort of intensity, stressing that the transition is going to be hard at first, but once they get the prosthetic made and he’s used it for a while, he’ll be able to do everything he could before, she promises-

The other elemental masters have been keeping a respectful distance, which Lloyd is really hoping is just because they want to give him space, and not because they think he’s completely lost his marbles.

Skylor and Ronin are the only two with reactions that don’t make Lloyd feel like a walking-worst-human-ever. Skylor’s got that tough sort of determinedness Lloyd recognizes a little too well, and she actually appreciates the arm puns — they’ve got a list they’re making to try out on Kai when he gets back, ‘cause FSM knows they’re gonna need some tension-breaking one-liners for that reunion. Ronin treats him about how he always has, which Lloyd appreciates more than words, but he also helps because he gets the visceral desperation that drives you to take insane lengths to come out on top sometimes.

None of that, of course, changes the fact that Lloyd now has to live with the reality that he effectively Luke Skywalker-ed himself, but he figures that was pretty much an inevitability with the way his life was going, anyways.

******

“Hey,” Nya speaks up, half-bent over the metal in her lap. “You, uh, you remember Star Wars?”

Lloyd gives her a blank look from where he sits cross-legged on the table. “Do I remember Star Wars,” he says, flatly. “No, I don’t remember Jay making Darth Vader noises at me for two months straight, or hearing ‘Lloyd I am your father’ eight thousand times a day-“

“Alright, geez, point taken,” Nya says. “When’d you become such a snarky little brat?”

“When my dad chucked me through a wall,” Lloyd mutters, darkly.

“Pretty sure you were one before that, but okay,” Nya says, breezing through Lloyd’s mood-killer statement like only Nya can. “Anyways, remember the end of Empire Strikes Back? Everything’s kinda terrible, because they lost Han and the Falcon keeps messing up, and Luke is-“

“Luke lost a hand,” Lloyd interrupts, narrowing his eyes at her. He’d figured out where she was going with this the minute she mentioned Star Wars, but still. “Do you see this?” He gestures at his right shoulder, which pretty much just ends in his right shoulder. “This is an entire arm. Luke had it way better, he got to keep like — he got to keep his elbow, and his, um, whatever you call the bones in your upper arm-“

“Are you trying to invalidate Luke Skywalker’s hand loss?” Nya says.

“No, I’m saying he at least had it a little better, because his dad neatly sliced his hand off, instead of releasing an ancient snake on him that eventually ended in Luke chopping the entirety of his own arm off like a crazy person.”

“You definitely had crazy in your eyes,” Nya mutters. She blows her breath out, then pins him with a look. “Look, I know we’ve — we’ve talked about this, but if you ever— if you ever try anything like that again-“

“Next time I’m planning on sending a katana through my arm, I’ll give you five minutes’ warning, promise.”

Nya whacks him solidly across the head. Lloyd yelps, throwing his arms up in defense —

Whoops, he thinks blankly, as he starts toppling off the table, any sense of balance lost completely. He doesn’t have an arm on that side, so if he moves like that, he’s gonna send himself-

Lloyd hits the floor with an oof, just barely bringing his good arm up in time to protect his face. His armless side, on the other hand, is not so lucky.

“Lloyd!” Nya’s yelp is punctuated by the sound of metal clattering to the ground, and she’s at his side before he can push himself back into a semi-dignified stance.

“M’okay,” he says, finally maneuvering himself into a sitting position, desperately trying not to jostle his right side more. “Just - ow - banged it up a little.”

He tries to stand up, only to lose his balance again, wavering briefly before he stumbles back to the floor. Lloyd hisses in frustrated pain, curling in on himself. Ow, ow, ow, why’d he have to land on that side-

“Here.” Nya’s hand is gentle on his back as she eases him up, the other kneading into the muscles of his shoulder just above what’s left of his mangled arm. Lloyd feels himself relax a bit, the pain ebbing slightly.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, arm still wrapped around himself.

Nya squeezes his shoulder, and Lloyd hears more than sees her take a seat next to him, her knee bumping his.

“It’s like Star Wars,” she repeats, sounding as lost as he feels, while trying to convince herself she’s not. “Everything’s terrible right now, but it’s — it’s gonna work out fine in the end.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd says, following her gaze where she stares up at the window high above them. “Just like Star Wars.”

…well, he hopes it’s not exactly like Star Wars. He really doesn’t wanna test out what’s left of his father’s moral integrity while getting electrocuted to death.

Garmadon would probably just let him die, anyways.

*******

It could be his father’s fault. He’s the one who brought the snake into it.

Lloyd doesn’t know where he got it — maybe Harumi decided to go the full nine yards and resurrect the Great Devourer while she was on a roll. It’d be a weird choice, because it kinda murdered her parents, but with what Lloyd’s seen of her, he wouldn’t put it past her ambition for destroying literally everything she can get her hands on.

In all honesty, though, it’s probably not even the Great Devourer. His mom’s betting on a lost descendent or overlooked relative, and Ronin’s got money on Garmadon having cooked up some twisted version of it just to get the jump on them. Skylor seemed a little green at both ideas, and Nya had simply said it didn’t matter which it was, nothing was gonna stop her from mounting its head as a decorative wall display.

Pixal’s the only one Lloyd really listened to, though, because she was the one to confirm that his actions hadn’t been in vain. She was the to look him dead in the eye, vivid green meeting his dull red, and tell him that there wasn’t a trace of venom that had spread beyond his arm.

Lloyd hadn’t heard Mystake’s echoing confirmation, but that’s probably because he’d been crying, which seems to be an inconvenient habit he’s picked up since he hacked his own arm off.

The very idea of it is definitely Lloyd’s fault, probably for watching so many zombie movies with Kai at two in the morning. The dumb part is that he’d actually been winning, he’d been this close to getting some mediocre sort of revenge on Harumi, when he’d felt the sharp, twin stabs of pain on his hand mid-strike, looked down to see a horrifyingly familiar serpent with its fangs locked around his the pale skin of his hand, and frozen.

The next thirty seconds went a little something like this:

Lloyd tries not to scream. He knows what this means, because there’s a giant stupid chunk of his life that’s revolved around this kind of snake. There is no small amount of terror associated with this knowledge.

So his mind rationalizes — the snake bite is like a zombie bite. He’s been infected. When you get infected in a zombie movie, you cut the infected limb off, so you don’t become a dead-brained flesh-devouring monster.

There are five seconds for debate. Lloyd doesn’t want to cut a limb off, but he doesn’t want to become a dead-brained flesh-devouring monster either.

What follows is a bit of a panicked blur. Lloyd looks down at his hand and sees the dark purple venom spreading through the veins. Lloyd looks at the sword in his other hand. Lloyd has a brief, vivid image of himself with his father’s face, laughing cruelly as he tries to crush everyone he loves to tiny bits. The next thing he knows, his sword is a whole lot bloodier, his right side feels several pounds lighter, Harumi looks like she’s about to throw up, and Lloyd is suddenly in a rather intense amount of pain.

Nya tells him that it was one of the worst moments of her life, but she does admit that for a brief, half a second’s time, the look of absolute terror on Harumi’s face at seeing Lloyd hack his own arm off with all the casualness in the world was the best thing she’s seen this year.

Someone could’ve at least taken a picture, he thinks dully. What’s the point of severing your own limb in front of your enemy if you aren’t even gonna get the satisfaction of seeing them scream like a baby about it?

******

Nya decides to stay up all night making the final adjustments to the prosthetic, so Lloyd stays up with her. He’s more hindrance then help, flinging suggestions at her every few minutes. Nya rolls her eyes at him way more than he deserves, though — because alright, he gets that a side dispenser for making hot chocolate and extra jet engines so he can fly are kinda out of the practical realm, but there’s nothing wrong with a canon for an arm, or hand tasers, or cool laser-shooters like in Fritz Donnegan—

“Except that it’d add way too much weight, and your arm would start bleeding all over the place again.”

“That’s…no it wouldn’t,” Lloyd says, lamely.

“Oh, are you the medical expert now?” Nya raises an eyebrow at him.

“No, but it’s not like you are,” Lloyd raises both eyebrows back, then frowns, expression screwing up as he tries to raise only the one like Nya.

Nya gives a snorting giggle. “Stop trying,” she says, shaking her head even as she smiles. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“How do you even do that, anyways,” Lloyd mutters, abandoning his attempts.

“It’s a genetic and unattainable gift,” Nya says, and Lloyd snorts this time.

“Sure. Is being totally lame genetic too?”

“Apparently being a persistent brat is for you,” Nya sets the wrench down emphatically. “I’m trying to make you something functional, not a full-blown weapon.”

“But I’m a full-blown weapon,” Lloyd argues. Nya doesn’t reply, and Lloyd is suddenly aware of how heavy his words echo in the room, the subtext that kind of sentence has.

Oops. He can’t make one joke without it going sour lately, can he.

“You’re a lot more than that,” Nya says quietly, a slightly-heartbroken look written across her expression. Lloyd bites his lip. Great, now he’s made her sad again.

He looks down, eyes catching on the empty sleeve of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. Lloyd glances surreptitiously up at Nya, then twists his body slightly, tilting it forward. The empty sleeve smacks Nya on the arm once, twice, before she turns a disbelieving look on him.

“Really?”

Lloyd gives her an unapologetic grin. “I need a super cool laser arm in there, Nya.”

She gives a long-suffering sigh, but Lloyd is pleased to spot the amusement on her face, the way her forehead eases out of its furrowed tension. “You’re getting a nice, sturdy, functional arm. That’s all.”

“Oh, come on,” Lloyd pleads. “What if I run into Harumi again? Wouldn’t it be great if like, she tried to grab me, and I zapped her with my high-power arm taser?”

There’s a beat of silence as Nya considers this excellent point. “Arguments…can be made for a taser,” she admits.

Lloyd gives a quiet whoop of victory. He then turns an extra-bright, fully sincere, wide-eyed smile on her. Nya steadily refuses to look at him, but her fingers slow a bit on the wires, and she gives another, weary sigh.

“….I’ll consider the laser hand.”

********

The arm is functional, sleek and shiny and sturdy metal made for battle. Nya, dark circles beneath her eyes as Lloyd tries to shoo her off to bed, hazily promises that she’s gonna make him one that’s more comfortable too, one that’s not for fighting, maybe they can paint a bunch of cool green designs on it, and stuff—

Ronin gets ahold of her by that point, and Pixal takes over the final adjustments while he tosses her on a couch next to Skylor, telling her to make sure she stays. All that’s left after that is for Pixal to attach it, which, for all that Lloyd had been preparing himself for a prosthetic, is something he hadn’t actually thought through.

“In order for it to function, we’ll need to attach it to the nerve endings left in your arm,” Pixal explains, and there’s an apologetic look in her eyes Lloyd really doesn’t like. “I’ll be as gentle as possible, but it will…hurt quite a bit, I’m afraid.”

Understatement of the year. Lloyd makes it through the surgery without passing out, but it’s a close thing.

Once it’s attached, though, he’s pleased to find that it moves how he wants it, the sight of his right fist curling, even if metal, somewhat bizarre. He’s got two arms again. He’s not completely useless anymore, he can fight, he can—

Hurt, apparently. Lloyd can hurt, every movement and every hour, building up into a savage sort of agony where the arm meets the scarred flesh of his shoulder. It’s to be expected, Pixal explains, since everything’s still fresh and tender in there, but Lloyd is sick and tired of being in pain, sick and tired of sleepless nights trying not to scream into his pillow, and no amount of reassurances that it’ll get better soon help with that.

Because the ache doesn’t lessen. With every minute the prosthetic’s on it just gets worse, fiery bolts of pain flaring at the ends of the nerves. It hurts, and Lloyd knew it would, but FSM this is — it’s —

He swallows, flexing the fingers of his good hand — his only real hand — and watches the smooth, unhindered way they move. He looks at the cold metal of the prosthetic, biting back a hiss of pain as he forces the metal fingers to move clumsily. He can barely make the stupid elbow bend without wanting to tear the entire arm off.

…this is a lot harder than he thought it’d be.

Lloyd shifts in his perch high up in the warehouse rafters, listening to the others talking below. He should join them, really, he’s supposed to be the leader here, but…he needs a minute. A minute to adjust, that’s all.

Lloyd leans his head back against the wall, exhaling heavily. He misses when the worst he’d have to worry about was the ache in his ankle when it rained.

And it’s stupid, but Lloyd also finds himself missing like — he misses his fingernails, misses the little tapping sound they’d make, he misses that patch of freckles he had on his forearm and the one weird scar he’d picked up on his index finger, he misses the warmth when he knits his hands together, he misses being able to feel warmth beneath his fingers, and he misses—

Lloyd stares at the metal hand, and feels the icy grip of fear enclosing around his heart again. He hasn’t tried to use his powers yet. Hasn’t even mustered up a spark, not that he could. He doesn’t even have any powers to use, and he might not get them back, so it’s useless to speculate right now.

But what if — if he does, then…can the arm channel it? Will it be able to handle the green power, or will it blow straight up where its attached to him? How’s this gonna affect that?

Lloyd swallows, lowering the clenched metal fist into his lap. Whatever, he thinks dully. It’s not like his power is something he’s gonna need to worry about anytime soon.

********

“Is he dead?”

“Ronin, please-“

“I think he’s dead.”

“Left side, Lloyd,” Nya sighs, hovering over him. “You gotta lead with your left now. Remember?”

Lloyd groans in reply, throwing an arm over his face where he’s sprawled across the training mat. “Ngh.”

Nya hesitates, shifting from her right to left foot. “I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”

“No, I’m just a dumbas-“

“Lloyd.”

“Dumb, dumb, I’m super dumb, that’s what I was saying.”

“No, you’re not,” Nya says, grabbing his arm — the good one — and hauling him to his feet. “You just keep forgetting to lead with your left side.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Lloyd mutters, rubbing his side. He rolls his shoulder, wincing at the aching pain in the prosthetic that he’s slowly becoming familiar with. The ache’s finally lessened, though — it isn’t in constant agony as often, and he’s starting to sleep more than two hours at a time.

“Then do it.”

Lloyd gives her a plaintively pouting look, and Nya rolls her eyes. “Puppy eyes aren’t gonna cut in in battle.”

Lloyd huffs. “I’ve led with my right side my whole life,” he defends. “Besides, isn’t the point of this—“ he waves the metal arm aloft, trying not to wince at the unfamiliar added weight. “—so that I can hit with my right side?”

“Yes, eventually,” Nya says, eyeing Lloyd’s movements, and he shifts the arm self-consciously. “But you’re barely able to move it above your shoulders now, much less throw a hit with it.”

Lloyd scowls. “I can throw a hit with it.”

Nya raises an eyebrow, and ooh, Lloyd knows that look. “Then prove it,” she says.

“Uh oh,” Skylor mutters beneath her breath. Pixal looks between the two of them in alarm. Ronin makes an odd noise that sounds a bit like a laugh.

Lloyd meets Nya’s gaze head-on with his own stubborn glare. “I will.”

“Uh oh,” Skylor repeats. Pixal steps between them, looking even more concerned. “I don’t believe this is a good idea, Lloyd’s arm is still-“

“Alright then,” Nya says, ignoring the others. She steps past the training mat, walking over to the punching bag they’ve strung up. She taps the solid fabric, her nails making an muffled clacking noise. “Show me you can hit someone with it. Show me you can hit them hard.”

Lloyd squares his jaw, stepping over to her. “Fine-“

“And,” Nya continues, louder. “Show me you can hit them without immediately doubling over in pain.”

Lloyd’s breath rushes out in a quiet exhale, and he avoids her eyes. Right, okay. He hasn’t been hiding it as good as he’d thought. Great.

“Fine,” he repeats, more muted this time. He rolls his shoulders, glaring at the bag. He can’t back down now. This isn’t just about him using his right side, this is about Nya ever letting him outside again, about her ever letting him within fifty feet of a battle again. If Lloyd can’t prove that he’s not a walking liability, then Nya’s probably gonna bench him forever. Or at least until the guys are back.

And the thing is, Lloyd would get it. She has reason.

So he’s gotta prove to her, right here, right now, that he can fight. Lloyd’s not worried about possible damage — Nya built the arm, and he already trusts her with his life and more. He is…slightly concerned that he’s about to put himself in a lot of unnecessary pain, but he’ll just have to suck it up. He can cry into his pillow later.

Nya gives a barely audible, weary sigh. “You don’t have to,” she says, quietly.

Lloyd doesn’t reply, squaring back and setting up instead. His jaw clenches as he pulls his arm back, metal fingers curling into a tight fist. Show me you can hit someone, right? Lloyd’s gonna show her he can wreck someone. He doesn’t care about the recoil, he’s gonna give this all he’s got. He’s gonna pour every ounce of frustration and anger and fear into this punch, every last hour spent in pain and every sleepless night because of that pain, every single time he’s felt so stupidly useless because his arm is gone—

Lloyd’s fist slams against the bag, the force rippling back through his arm as he yells, already half-bracing for the rest of the recoil.

It doesn’t come. The weight of the bag gives under Lloyd’s hit with a loud metallic snapping sound, and before he can even finish following through with the strike there’s an thundering crunch of wood, and—

“Holy shit.”

The fact that nobody calls Ronin out on his language is probably a bad sign, Lloyd thinks. He looks up, shaking the mild pain in his shoulder out as he does, and follows everyone else’s gazes. His mouth falls open.

“It wasn’t supposed to do that!” he yelps, staring in horror at where there’s a hole in the wall. He blinks rapidly, realizing that the punching bag’s gone — did he hit it hard enough to do that? Lloyd suddenly wants to curse a lot worse than Ronin. He doesn’t have his powers right now, and even then, he’s not Cole, how in the world did he hit it that hard?

“I believe you made the arm strong enough,” Pixal finally says.

“No duh,” Skylor says, gaping at the shattered chain the bag hung from.

“You sent it through the wall,” Nya says faintly, staring at the hole. “That was one punch. And I was gonna have you start throwing hits at me.”

“Why did you make it this strong?!” Lloyd clutches his metal arm, staring at it in slight terror. “I could kill somebody with this!”

“Yes,” Nya nods. Lloyd gapes at her. Why does she sound satisfied with that? Nya looks at the splintered wall, then back to Lloyd, he eyes raking over his arm.

“Okay,” she says, shaking her head and grinning. “You win. Lead with your right side this time.”

Lloyd glances at the metal arm, then back up at Nya, wide-eyed. “I’ll, uh, I’ll save that for Harumi, I think,” he says, weakly. “Let’s go left side.”

Nya snorts, but her expression is lighter than it’s been in days. “Alright then, green machine,” she says, bringing her arms up in a fighting stance. “Show me what you got.”

Lloyd brings his own arms up, and feels a thrill of excitement as he doesn’t immediately stumble off-balance from the weight difference. “Oh I’ll show you,” he grins. “I’ll take you down.”

Lloyd is, in fact, the one that gets taken down, but for the twenty full minutes he’s able to hold his own against Nya, the added strength of the arm giving him an advantage that almost outweighs the disadvantage the pain adds, Lloyd feels like he might just have a chance.

********

“Hey, hey Nya.”

A sigh. “Yes, Lloyd?”

“I’m going on live TV for this speech thing.”

“I’m aware.”

“Everyone’s going to see me with it.”

“…yeah. You okay with that?”

“Oh, yeah. I was just gonna say that it’s extremely important to me.”

“What is?”

“That I show up on the TV with a totally kick-ass dragon arm.”

Another, longer sigh.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

*********

Lloyd is starting to suspect that he may be repressing things. Maybe, just a bit.

Not that he hasn’t repressed stuff before — he’s currently repressing the ten tons worth of high-pitched screaming into the void that came along with Harumi bringing his dad back as a hollow shell, and he’s been doing fine with that one. Lloyd’s a pro at repressing stuff. If he wasn’t the Green Ninja, he’d have been like, the elemental master of repressing your emotions until you don’t even know why you’re crying in the shower this time.

But the fact that he’s lost an entire arm and has yet to fully experience any kind of overwhelming reaction about it is…probably concerning. Like yeah, he’s been frustrated, he’s been scared, he’s been in pain more often than he’s not and that sucks, but he doesn’t seem to have really had the appropriate reaction to fully losing a limb and all that it entails yet. Or at least that’s what he thinks Nya is trying to tell him.

(And yeah, he gets that she’s concerned, everyone’s concerned about him, when is anybody not concerned about Lloyd and his idiotic life decisions, but—)

Naturally, it’s going to be during this conversation that he hits his breaking point.

“Look, I know it’s second nature and that zero of the guys have been any kind of good example, but you’ve got to drop the blame-yourself, brood-in-silent-guilt thing.”

Lloyd hand tightens where he’s gripping the edge of the table, and he feels a sudden urge to yank his arm from Nya’s hold and run.

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” he tries.

She cuts him a look. “Really? You’re gonna lie to me too?”

Lloyd whips his head away, staring resolutely at the wall furthest from him. “It was my fault,” he finally says, his voice thin in the quiet of the little room they’re hiding out in. “So that’s that."

Nya exhales tiredly, the sound of someone who’s heard something one too many times. Lloyd feels a kind of hot frustration spark in his gut at the sound.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was,” Lloyd grinds out, angrier than he means to be. “It’s my fault — I’m the one who cut it off, Nya—”

“You didn’t have a choice,” she snaps back. There’s an angry sort of sheen building in her eyes, and Lloyd hates himself. “It was that or the venom, he didn’t leave you any other opti-“

Something snaps in Lloyd’s chest, and he feels control slip through his hands like a fine stream of water.

“It’s my. Fault!” he bursts out at her, and Nya looks taken aback. Lloyd can’t stop himself — he doesn’t know why he’s so upset about this, he doesn’t know why this is so important, but there’s something wild clawing at his chest screaming that it has to be his fault, it has to be—

“It was my choice!” he continues shrilly, breathing harder than he does in training. “I was the one who decided to cut it off, I was the one who chose not to be like him, it was my choice, not Garmadon’s, mine, stop trying to take that away from me—!”

Lloyd’s rant cuts off in a sob, and he stumbles from the table, yanking the arm to him and trying to force back the raging emotion that’s broken loose. Nya stares at him with wide eyes, frozen in shock. Realization breaks across her face like a tidal wave, and her eyes soften, her expression shifting into something that makes Lloyd want to cry harder. He quickly turns away, frantically scrubbing at his eyes as he tries to get himself under control. This is terrible, this is humiliating, Lloyd is a disgrace to the Green Ninja and everything that everyone’s done to make sure he’s gotten this far, but—

Lloyd chokes on another sob. It’s just like the tea, it’s just like the stupid tea. Everyone tried to tell him that he didn’t have a choice then too, insisting that potential death doesn’t really give you much of a choice, and Lloyd couldn’t get them to see — he couldn’t get them to see that it was his choice. Just like Lloyd made the choice to cut his arm off instead of falling to the same cursed blood his father did. Those were his choices, those were Lloyd’s decisions, he made them himself, and that’s important because - because -

Because if Lloyd didn’t have the choice to grow older, if he didn’t have the choice to become the Green Ninja, if he really hasn’t had a choice in anything like that — then what kind of life does that leave him with?

“Okay.”

Lloyd’s head snaps up, and he looks at Nya through watery eyes.

“Okay,” she repeats, gently. “It was your choice. I agree.”

Something a little too dizzying to be relief swoops through him, and Lloyd slumps back against the table, his side hitting it a bit too hard as he breathes out shakily, wiping at his eyes.

“Okay,” he echoes, his voice thick.

“But—“ Nya takes a step closer to him, but she doesn’t touch him. She looks hesitant, but her jaw is set in that stubborn sort of determination Nya always has. “That doesn’t mean it’s all your fault. You…you have your choice. Let Garmadon own up to his, too.”

Lloyd can’t meet her eyes for that one, but he doubts it’d make a difference anyways, because they keep blurring over so much. Which is ridiculous, because how does Lloyd even have enough hydration left to keep crying all over the place like this—

Nya blows her breath out, and leans up against the table next to him, her shoulder just brushing his left one. Lloyd shifts his hold on the metal arm, and lets the tension in his shoulders ease, leaning into her.

“And for what it’s worth?”

Lloyd looks at Nya, and she gives him a crooked smile.

“I don’t love it, obviously, and if you ever try that again, I’ll — well, you know, but…I think you might’ve made the right choice.”

Lloyd’s humiliated himself enough today, but he can’t stop his eyes from flooding over again.

“Thank you,” he croaks, and Nya grabs his shoulder, pulling him to her so their heads bump briefly together.

“You’re Lloyd,” she tells him. “Not Garmadon. You’re my brother, and you’re good.”

She shakes her head, giving a wet laugh.

“You’re too stubborn to be anything other than that, clearly.”

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #nya smith #my fic #do u know the strength i had to have not to make ten billion arm puns #i did my time in the fma fandom i was prepared #anyways lloyd im so sorry #at least u aren't corrupted #don't ask where the snake came from it's #plot convenience

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apsaraqueen · 5 years

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Tumblr ate this the first time, so trying again. Answering @coppercrane2’s fic asks!

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

Yes, absolutely! Almost all of them, in some way or another. Travel in particular is a huge inspiration for me. It’s always fun to set stories in places I’ve been, and recall the landscape, the food, the language, the visual and physical memories. Kind of helps me process the trip in a different way and think about the culture in a new light, if that makes any sense? The #ssrevmb2019 fic I’m working on now is very much inspired by a trip to Egypt I took a few years ago. And on a more personal level, I definitely will mine interactions and conversations I’ve had - with friends, my family, the husband - for dialogue. I don’t think any of my fics have been wholly based on actual events of my life, because my life is..........not that exciting, but personal experience always plays a part.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I already did this one for another ask but I’m going to do it again here, because why not?

“You seem to know the Diet building pretty damn well,” you noted.

Jude’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Well, I’ve only been sleeping with this blueprint under my pillow for the better part of two months now. Any closer and I’d be dry-humping it.” He leaned back in his rusty chair; the front two legs lifted off the floor, suspended. You really hated it when he did that. “You seem a little on edge, boss. Care to share?”

You sighed. “No. Just…I hate waiting.”

“Soon,” he said. “You guys ever had a mole?”

A short, incredulous laugh escaped you. “You’d have to be pretty fucked in the brain to leave a cushy life in CT and come spy on us in this shithole.”

He was smiling. “Oh, I don’t know. Seems like it could be pretty glamorous. Be a double agent. Take down a dictator. Topple the government. Get the MILF.”

“Who taught you to have such a filthy mouth, boy?”

“Thought you were pretty partial to my filthy mouth, boss.”

“My point was,” you redirected the conversation, ignoring the flush crawling up your cardiganed chest, “it’s not actually that glamorous. Think about it. You’d have to make friends with us – I mean, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. But then you’d have to lie to us, betray us. How would anyone from those pretty palaces in CT look at themself in the mirror? They’d be the same monster as they say we are. They couldn't get their hands dirty like that. Trust me.”

From Kataphileo, a loosely Rei/Mars x Jadeite (but also OC x Jadeite...it’s, uh, complicated......) fic set in Crystal Tokyo that I wrote for the 2017 Senshi/Shitennou Bang. It’s on AO3, under apsaraqueen.

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE FIC, HUGE SPOILER FOLLOWS. I like that this conversation pretty much articulates exactly what is happening in the fic, on the superficial plot level for sure, but also emotionally for Jadeite, who engages in rather amoral shenanigans in this one. It was a fun, ironic bit of foreshadowing to write, and an almost accidental insight into his character, who I otherwise tried to keep a black box throughout the entirety of the fic. END OF HUGE SPOILER.

H: How would you describe your style?

Ooh, this is a hard one. I don’t know if this actually describes my style, but maybe more what I aspire for? I try to write stuff that is atmospheric and lyrical, probably because that’s what I enjoy reading. I try to convey a strong sense of time and place and mood, and I definitely use way, WAY too many words to do it.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Yes. Smut!

Seriously, I love it. Reading and writing both! I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I really enjoy the striations of character and emotion that you can pull from it. And when it’s done well, it’s so satisfying (teehee) to read. It can be beautiful, raunchy, powerful, a show of control or loss of it, soft and dreamy, funny and raw, the moment that a fight turns to something else...the list goes on. Maybe I like it because it IS so hard to do well - although I’m lucky with the Sailor Moon fandom in that there are so many brilliant authors writing it, like the asker herself...

And of course it goes without saying that smut isn’t the only way to convey any or all of the above things, not at all. I’m just a perv who likes reading it :P

Oh wait, you asked for a guilty pleasure...

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

There is only one possible reason the tragedy queen herself would ask me this, and THAT is to laugh at how pitifully weak my angst game is compared to hers.

Honestly, the whole Senshi x Shitennou story is pretty depressing as-is; anything a fic writer can do is just icing on a canonically angsty cake. But we do love a good redemption story, so I think the saddest ideas I’ve had tend to center around that redemption never coming to fruition. The Moon winning the battle back in the Silver Millennium, and the Shitennou dying for it, not even getting a shot in the future. The Shitennou coming back in the modern era or Crystal Tokyo but never finding their destiny or the people who cared for them in the past, and always feeling strangely unfulfilled with their lives. Or worse, finding them, but things not working out for whatever reason, and then having to live with that. Missed moments, what-ifs, that kind of thing.

And speaking of Crystal Tokyo, that’s fertile ground for all kinds of mopey speculation! I did start writing a fic once that dealt with Kunzite’s reaction to Endymion dying of old age wayyy in the future, but that was too much even for me and I ended up dropping it. Maybe someday!

Thank you for the asks, @coppercrane2!

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xxprincessjewelsxx · 7 years

Text

The War (Suho Mafia!au Fic Sequel) Chapter 5 - Why Are You Asking Me?

Warnings: Hints towards murder

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8(M), Ch. 9, Ch. 10, Ch. 11, Ch. 12, Ch. 13, Ch. 14, Ch. 15(Finale)

It was almost surreal to me that I had actually confessed to Junmyeon. How I had actually let the walls down that I was trying so hard to keep up. But I knew that this time he had been sincere about everything he said and he made no actions that would prove otherwise.

“I was worried when I couldn’t find you,” he said walking into his room to find me curled up on his bed, book in hand.

“I started to get lonely after two days of not seeing you...”

He would text and tell me that he wouldn’t be coming home. Before it would never even cross his mind to send a text to let me know that. But he wanted to let me know that he was fine, wanted me to tell Jinwoo he would make up for not being there to play with him, telling the both of us that he loved us.

Minseok: This is more disgusting than when he whatever brain trauma he had...

Me:....I’m going to assume this is your weird way of supporting us now that you know that he really cares about me...and that he cares about Jinwoo...

Minseok:.......

Minseok: Maybe...

Me: Thanks...I guess

Minseok: You’re welcome...I guess...

As much as he hated to admit it, even Minseok could see the sincerity behind his actions. I think it also worried him too. Minseok and I had stopped fighting (probably because we both didn’t want to fight in front of Jinwoo...none of us did) but I think also he finally got the big picture.

Which made him worried for his friend...not so much me...but Junmyeon.

“You have to be careful who sees your emotions,” I heard Minseok say. It was late and this was probably a conversation that I was not meant to hear but I stayed anyway. “If someone realizing how close you have really become to her...”

“I know...” Junmyeon said, “Why do you think I told her she couldn’t go to the park.”

“It’s still a few months away, but she’s still been talking about schools for Jinwoo...what are you going to do about that? We don’t know how long this feud us going to last...”

“I don’t know yet...”

That’s the only thing that did bother me, but other than that there was nothing that was causing me any discomfort between us....

“We need to talk,” I said handing Junmyeon his morning coffee.

He stopped and looked at me. “What did I do?”

“Nothing that I know of...are you feeling guilty of something?” I questioned.

“No...”

“Okay...” I said, “I need to go out and-”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Before you say no can you hear me out?” I questioned. He said back in his chair and signaled me to continue. “Thank you...Jinwoo’s birthday is coming up and I would like to order a cake and I would like to get a birthday present for him. If you have any ideas of a gift that you would like to get him I can pick one up or I can just get one from the both of us....”

“I already have his present planned...” he replied.

“Oh really?” I questioned, “Do tell...”

“He wanted a Dino room so I have hired someone who is going to come in and do wallpaper and paint and I talked to a room furnishing consultant so he will have all new furniture just for him...including some that he can grow into even when he doesn’t want a Dino theme anymore.”

By the time he was done talking my eye was twitching. “And when did you have time for this?”

“I made time,” he replied, “I didn’t forget about his birthday, it’s on my phone calendar.”

“And you didn’t tell me any of this because...”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I just forgot to let you know with all the running around I’ve been doing...what are you thinking of getting him?”

“Well it seems kinda inadequate now...” I said.

He chuckled. “You do know he’s a momma’s boy...so I could buy him a Dino museum but the only thing he would care about is the thing you bought him.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “He saw the Hot Wheels track on TV and he keeps talking about it...so I was going to get him that.”

After a moment of thought Junmyeon gave a smile. “Alright...but Chanyeol goes with you...no arguing with me on that.”

“At this point...with some of the things you’ve told me, you won’t get any argument from me,” I said.

He reached around the island and pulled me towards him. “Your birthday is coming up to, right?”

“Yeah...” I replied, “But mine isn’t as important as Jinwoo’s.”

I tried to pull away from him but he kept me close to him. “We don’t have to have a party for you...it could just be you and me...dinner.”

“That would draw attention,” I said, “We don’t want to draw any unwanted attention to us.”

“I’m guessing you happened to hear a conversation that was supposed to be private,” he said eyeing me, “However...don’t mind that. I already have a place in mind.”

‘Don’t mind that...’ I thought memories of him getting shot flashing into my head, ‘Unwanted attention could cause things to happen that...’ My thoughts were cut off by his thumb gliding across my cheek.

“I know what you’re thinking about,” he said, “I know you know that things like that are risks that happen in this business. But the place that we would be going to is secure.”

“Some promises I ask you not to make...because between here and that restaurant and back...anything can happen.”

I agreed to dinner with Junmyeon, but the “what ifs” still lingered on my mind even as I stood in the bakery ordering Jinwoo’s cake.

“I’m sure your son will be very excited for this cake,” the older lady behind the counter said, looking from me to Chanyeol.

We looked at each other and let out a laugh causing the woman to look very confused. “He’s my brother,” I lied. Though it wasn’t necessarily a lie...the guys had all become kinda like brothers to me over the last few months.

“Oh...I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s alright, he’s just going shopping with me since my...fiance is busy,” I said.

“Fiance?” she questioned, he demeanor now changing, “Not husband?”

‘Oh right...I mentioned this was for my son,’ I thought, trying really hard not to roll my eyes. I gave a forced smile. “Yes...fiance,” I said, “Will the cake be done today or tomorrow, cause if tomorrow my brother will have to pick it up.”

“I will be done by tomorrow afternoon,” she replied curtly, “Have a nice rest of your day.”

“You as well...” I replied, before walking out of the bakery, Chanyeol trailing behind.

“What was that about?” she questioned.

I stopped and looked at him. “She assuming that I had raised a child out of wedlock or that Junmyeon and I had a child before marriage. However she is just assuming since no one but EXO will ever really know the full circumstances except that we...adopted him.”

“So she was judging you...” he said, looking back at the bakery.

“Mmhmm...also doesn’t help that she probably also made another assumption that because of my clothing that I come from money...which is true...so I should know better...” I said, “She’s a traditionalist, that’s all. But I know the truth...we know the truth...and that’s what matters. Now come on, we have some shopping to do.”

I think Chanyeol was more bothered by the fact that someone would judge me or even Junmyeon (without even meeting him) like that. But that was just how some people could be.

“Would you be okay if I went around the corner and looked around?” Chanyeol questioned as we entered the Hot Wheels section of the toy store.

“I thought you were supposed to stay next to me,” I said, looking at him oddly.

“Within earshot,” he replied, “Scream and kick things and use the techniques I taught you and I’ll be here before anything can happen. I just want to see if I can find a present while I’m here.”

“Okay,” I said.

He nodded and headed around to the other isle as I proceeded to look for the toy that Jinwoo wanted so badly. As I did I began to get a strange feeling that I was being watched, and not the comforting feeling that I got knowing that Chanyeol or possibly one of the other guys was keeping an eye on me.

I looked at each end of the isle and on my left side was a man, possibly in his late thirties, trying really hard to act like he was a regular dad out looking for a toy.

I’m not stupid; if you try and mix accessories and shoes that cost $500 or more with a set of clothes you quickly put together and that probably cost less than $50 all put together...you’re either living about your need, trying way to hard to impress people, or you had a last minute idea on how you might be able to get close to someone.

Being around EXO has taught me to choose the latter...

“If you’re not looking for anything in particular, I can make a suggestion if you would like,” I said to the man, making it seem like I hadn’t caught on to what he was trying to do.

“That would be so helpful,” he said taking a few steps towards me, “I want to surprise my son, but I’m having a hard time deciding what to get him.”

I could see Chanyeol slowly walk around the corner, most likely having heard me talk to the man. “Hmmm...well...maybe you could have him get you a present...like a better disguise.”

Before the man could say anything he found himself in a head lock. I walked over to the toy I wanted to get Jinwoo and grabbed it before walking back towards the man that was struggling against Chanyeol’s grip. “I don’t know what your goal was today, whether is was kidnapping me or wanting to get information...but whatever it was, you are one stupid individual.”

“What do you want me to do with him?” Chanyeol questioned, “There’s a back door to the store, or I could let him go.”

“Why are you asking me?” I questioned, “Don’t you make that decision?”

“Why do you think I’m asking you,” he questioned raising an eyebrow.

‘Damn you, Junmyeon,’ I thought. I thought for a moment before sighing. “Do what Junmyeon would have you do....”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, “Call Baek and have him wipe the security cams.”

I watched as Chan dragged the man towards the store room before picking up the phone to call Baek.

‘When I get home, I am going to kill Junmyeon...’

To be continued

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acrownofblueroses · 8 years

Text

Monty/Miller Fic Recs, Pt II

a day in the life (of one montgomery green) by danickzta Monty’s guilt has been slowly tearing him to pieces since the genocide at Mount Weather, and only a certain guard can help put him back together. Set during the months between S2 and S3.

a house on a lake by jennycaakes When the delinquents finally stop walking, their legs giving out from exhaustion and the weight of the world so heavy that they can’t bear to take another step, they stop at a lake.

Monty x Miller, post season 3

All I Ask by bythelightofthenight Nathan thinks of the last time he was home. His dad knows about his situation and he's been great about it all. But he knows he makes him worry.

“I just don't want you to wake up in ten years, thinking the best years of your life are over, and while your career was impressive, you're still alone,” David had said.

All I’ll Ever Need by bythelightofthenight The bike messenger passes so close to him Nathan trips on the curb and falls right on his ass on the pavement. Catching himself on his hands, he hisses as the sand scratches his palms.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Monty kneels by his side.

Nathan tries to answer, but all comes out is a puff of breath as he notices Monty’s hand on his knee.

So he’s been in love with his friend for ages. Big deal.

And there’s no reason to play pretend by yellowteapots Monty likes boys.

He knows he does, always has known really.

He's never actually been with a boy though, which. Well it's not the worst thing as far as problems go and yet. Monty can't help but feel like it's more of an abstract concept than reality.

That's until he finds a guy sitting in his usual seat in his computer science lecture that is.

Miller like boys.

Exclusively. No ifs, no buts. Well maybe some butts.

He's been with his fair share of guys but since things between he and Bryan fizzled out before they left for college he hasn't been seeing anyone. He doesn't really feel the need to just see anyone, he'd rather see someone who actually meant something to him.

And then he picks computer science as his elective and well.

coax the cold right out of me by growlery Monty taps the microphone, and then, satisfied, introduces himself. “This song is about R2-D2,” he says, and Miller knows, in that moment, that he is totally doomed.

(Or, the one where they're all in college and Indra owns the coffee shop where Miller, Wells and Octavia work, and where Monty and Lincoln play music.)

The Dice Was Loaded From the Start by Chash Monty is not enthused about being on a casino boat. He's a math teacher. He knows gambling is a scam. This is really not his thing.

Draw That Line (When It Starts to Get Too Real) by bythelightofthenight When he falls in love for the first time, he's 16.

Nathan and his friends' lives through the years, from teens to adulthood, falling in and out of love, overcoming obstacles on the way.

Fireworks by lordmxrphy Fireworks pop above them, bright and bursting with light, but nothing beats the boy in front of him. Soft and sweet with the taste of strawberries.

for you to be you to me by MelikaElena At first glance, the two young men working behind the counter weren’t particularly remarkable—granted, both were cute, one in a sort of a charming, albeit dangerous, way, the perfect scruff at odds (yet perfectly complementing) his big brown eyes and long eyelashes; the other looked like an easygoing, friendly guy, the one in high school that everyone knew and got along with—it didn’t hurt that he had a wonderful, bright smile, and dark, silky hair.

They were dressed plainly enough, shirts and jeans underneath navy blue aprons, and they were chatting casually as they went about their business, one wiping the counter, the other refilling the milk.

What was also incredibly plain, not to mention, particularly remarkable, was that they were 100% totally and completely into each other.

gonna be the man who’s coming home to you by jennycaakes A collection of Minty drabbles that are placed in modern-AUs. None of them are related to each other unless otherwise stated! Cross posted from Tumblr. Some are short, some are long, all are Minty.

got our aim, but we might miss by katsumi Monty finally hooks up with Miller, only to wake up the next morning terrified that sleeping with Miller has ruined his long-term plan to...well, sleep with Miller.

(Monty’s brain handles many things well under pressure. Boys is not one of them.)

Green Wednesdays by starfleetgirl (WIP) Monty Green is a sophomore in college with his own radio show at the college station every Wednesday night. When he starts mentioning his small crush on a guy he knows called Miller his listeners and his friends push him to talk about it more. As Monty's friendship with Miller grows he hides his show from him so Miller won't find out about his feelings.

holly jolly miller by kirargent But this is the first time he’s seen Monty in a cozy-ass sweater since he’s realized he’s, like, head-over-McFucking heels for the guy. Cause of death: the love of my life in a fuzzy winter sweater.

i can’t believe i feel this way by jennycaakes Everyone thinks it's Miller who's really bad at expressing emotions. Turns out it might actually be Monty.

Or, Nate tells Monty he loves him and Monty freaks out.

I don’t have a choice but I still choose you by emilia_kaisa ‘My name’s Nathan Miller; I’m a detective and I’m going to question you. Do you want to call somebody?’ he asked officially and the guy shook his head silently.

‘Firstly, what’s your name?’

‘Monty Green.’ he answered after a moment of silence.

i have seen no other who compares to you by MelikaElena Monty goes to his friend and flower shop owner Miller for help in wooing his crush.

Miller finds he minds more than he should.

I Thought About Solving Our Problems With Alcohol But Decided to Level Up Instead by srmiller Monty thinks wanting his boyfriend of more than a year to say something other than "oh" when he professes his love for the first time isn't high maintenance, it's basic decency, but when Nate does exactly that Monty has to rethink the relationship he thought was going to be his last relationship.

Meanwhile, Miller knows he fucked up, he doesn't need Harper to tell him that but she does anyway.

i will come to you in need, and i’ll help you when i can by MelikaElena “Hey--” Monty said, stopping abruptly. Miller was sitting up in bed, shirtless, the white sheets of his bed pooled around his waist, making it look as though he wasn’t wearing anything at all. He looked worn out and groggy, his face damp with perspiration, his lids heavy as he gazed up at Monty from underneath his long lashes. If Monty didn’t know any better, he’d say Miller looked sexed-out.

To Monty’s shock, Miller grinned lazily at him. “Hey, M’nty,” he slurred. “Come to play doctor?”

Monty gets roped into taking care of a sick Miller, despite the fact that Miller doesn't like him all that much.

A drugged-up Miller disabuses him of that assumption.

I will walk 500 miles (but I would rather not) by katsumi Monty's thrown off when he learns that Nate's ex-boyfriend was super fit and into doing outdoorsy things. So Monty convinces Clarke to start hiking with him in a last ditch attempt at athleticism, because he might not be Nate's ideal type, but he's not about to lose Nate without a fight.

(Turns out he and Clarke have no business hiking, ever, for the good of humanity.)

i’d tried so not to give in by jennycaakes Soulmates didn’t happen on the Ark. They hadn’t happened for a long time. And if they had, no one was talking about it. But Nathan Miller had one, he knew it by the way his skin filled with marks that didn't belong to him. Monty Green didn't believe in soulmates, so he ignored the signs. -- “I know what you’re going to say. But, like, I don’t believe in soulmates. I believe in science. So.”

Miller smirked. “The thing about soulmates is that they exist whether or not you believe in them.” He leaned in, stepping into Monty’s space and leaning toward his ear before whispering, “Kind of like science.” -- Canon-verse soulmate AU, takes it through season 1 and 2, no City of Light stuff. Minty, background Bellarke.

I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice by Kacka Nate might be overreacting about the cold. Just a little. Luckily, Monty has some good ideas about how to stay warm.

i’ll keep walking towards the sound of your voice by MelikaElena “Nathan,” Miller said suddenly. If this was the only time he spoke to his Soulmate in his entire life, he wanted him to know his first name. For some reason, this was deathly important to Miller. “My first name-- it’s Nathan. Nate.”

“Nate,” Monty repeated softly, and Miller had to close his eyes. His name on Monty’s lips sounded like a prayer. A wish. “Don’t worry about me, Nate. I’ll be okay.”

He sounded so alone, and Miller couldn’t stand it. But what could he do? Soulmate or not, his hands were tied. He was with someone else.

“I--” Irrationally, Miller felt his throat close up. “I’m glad we met, Monty.”

“Me, too,” Monty said. “Goodbye.”

Don’t go, Miller’s body nearly seized with longing. Don’t ever leave.

“Goodbye,” Miller said.

Sometimes we defy Fate with a choice; sometimes Fate doesn't give a damn about what we choose. Modern, Soulmates AU

i’m calling out for you by angelicourry "I care about you. I'm not ever leaving you, don't you get that?"

"You already have."

or, Monty loves Miller, but Miller has a boyfriend.

if I could name you in this song (would it make you smile and sing along?) by shinealightonme Nate just wanted to get Monty's number. There was never supposed to be any singing.

in the spell of the night by MelikaElena Pro's: The guy who lives down the hall that Miller's been crushing on is, right now, naked, using Miller's shower, because his own broke.

Con's: It's because said guy has a date tonight.

in want of (an us) by kissteethstainedred Monty adamantly believes that Nathan Miller had a hand in breaking up Bellamy and Raven, and thus hates Miller for it; the universe has other plans.

or: a pride and prejudice au

it takes two by kissteethstainedred “Want to explain to me why you were egging my house at two AM, Monty Green?” David Miller asked.

It’s Warmer Where You Are by bythelightofthenight It's barely nine but the party is on full go. Instead of joining the others, they stay by the doorway.

“I fucking hate Christmas parties,” Monty says, trying not to watch Susan from accounting perform Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.

“Really? I’m having so much fun.”

“Mistletoe!” Susan shouts into the microphone suddenly. She's pointing, pointing straight at them.

prompt: Monty Green + Nathan Miller + winter holiday season (can be shippy or just gen) for tumblr user pinkmistletoe in the no white saviors allowed exchange

just a lost boy by jennycaakes Monty comes to terms with his sexuality. Social media AU

Monty x Miller

let me down slow by growlery Miller's waiting outside the library when Monty emerges at the end of the hour, leaning up against the wall, smoking a roll-up. It's a horrible cliché, complete with the requisite pounding in Monty’s chest, the drop in his belly, but Monty’s a stoner hippie turned dealer so he can make it through college with only vaguely crushing debt. He's long made peace with being a cliché.

life throws you to the unknown by bowlingfornerds nathanmillerz on tumblr prompted: maybe minty trying to set up bellarke but falling for each other at the same time?

Five instances throughout the plan Monty and Miller create to get Bellamy and Clarke together, and how they get closer in the process.

lightning strikes once and true (call it magic when i’m with you) by kay_emm_gee The ‘incidents’, as Monty took to calling them, only increased in frequency in the next few weeks. Power surges and sparking wires, static shocks and arcs of blue electricity that made his fingertips tingle and his hair stand on end. After the first time, he rarely hurt himself; it was more just surprising, and then annoying. It was getting harder to hide them, too. Raven’s scowls at his yelps or wide-eyed stares turned into concerned glances, and Wick stopped teasing him about the accidents. Sometimes he could feel them staring at his back, maybe even hear them talking under their breath about it.

He just ignored them, because then he could ignore it, whatever it was. If other people noticed the weird occurrences, then they were real and would have to be dealt with. If it was just him, well–it could wait until they had irrefutable proof.

like I’m drowning by jennycaakes Monty and Miller are both dealing with the loss of someone they love. Healing is hard to do, but easier to do together.

lonely bones, lovely heart by jellyfishes “What — “ Miller breaks off again and Monty raises an eyebrow. “What’s your name?” he asks, and he sounds a little nervous.

“Uh,” he supposes there’s no harm in telling him. “Electrode.”

Miller chuckles. “Do you like… control lightning or something?”

Monty grins. He’s never really interacted like this with a civilian while he’s been in his suit. “Close, but no dice. Energy and technology manipulation.”

Miller full on laughs this time. “That’s like, the nerdiest superpower I’ve ever heard of.”

or,

Monty is a superhero and also maybe has a thing for Miller.

look and you will always find me by katsumi “Your superhuman knack for reprogramming droids isn’t going to help you when you’re staring down a line of stormtroopers,” Nate says, clearly annoyed.

“It probably won’t help me,” Monty agrees. “But you would.”

Nate startles. "What?"

"I don't need to know how to use a blaster," Monty says, simply. "I have you."

[A Rogue One AU.]

the look in your eyes (this dancing juice) by MelikaElena Champagne is dangerous to Monty Green's health; a drunk, flirty Nathan Miller even more so.

Loose Lips Sink Ships by shinealightonme Nate doesn't know why the internet cares so much about his love life. Or why his ex's fiancé's ex is messaging him. Or what the hell he's supposed to do about either of those things.

What he does know is that this is all Clarke's fault.

magic is instinctual by jennycaakes (sequel to magic is weird) Miller comes down with a cold. Magic is amazing, except when you're sick.

Monty x Miller

magic is weird by jennycaakes Monty starts to feel feelings that aren't his feelings. Magic is the worst, especially when you don't have it.

Monty x Miller

Man’s Best Friend by Kacka When Nate hears that Jasper is getting a puppy, he’s not immediately aware of the impact it will have on his life.

Monty Green, Private Eye by growlery “Okay,” Monty says, rubbing his aching temples. He feels very film noir, which would have thrilled him back when he started this private investigator thing, but now just makes him want to take the world’s longest shower. “What do you need from me, exactly?”

Lincoln, who has the soulful eyes and perfectly chiselled features of a femme fatale but basically nothing else, sighs.

mouthfuls of forever by jennycaakes and MelikaElena Miller wants to do things the right way with Monty. Monty just wants to do Miller. More or less, they compromise.

Or, how Monty and Miller fall in love.

My Kind of Mess by Kacka Monty would be thrilled that The Most Beautiful Man in the World lives in his apartment building, if it weren't for the fact that every time they run into each other Monty looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

The One That Got Away by Mr_Dadamy_Blake and residentdelinquent High school reunion with Monty still having feelings for the guy he liked in high school (was going to be part of a oneshot series but that's probably never going to happen)

proceed as normal, nothing to see here by katsumi When Bellamy gets in a fight with Clarke and spirals completely out of control, Monty learns that not only is Bellamy really bad at feelings—no surprise there—but Miller is, too.

A Recent Opponent Would Like to Be Your Friend by Chash Monty does not, as a rule, accept friend requests from people he beats at Hearthstone anymore. He's too smart for that. He knows they only end in abuse and stupidity.

But this was a really fun game, so he figures maybe it'll turn out okay.

Just this once.

saw your face and got inspired by kissteethstainedred Monty and Miller take the same train to and from the city every day (Monty may or may not have a crush).

tell me you’re with me so far by jennycaakes and MelikaElena What’s a guy to do when his long-term boyfriend unexpectedly breaks up with him? The answer is not, by the way, do reckless things like push away all of your best friends and fall a little bit in love with a boy you barely know.

Nathan Miller does them, anyway.

Miller and friendship focused, Minty.

The Time It Takes to Get From Here to There by Chash Nate hasn't dated in a while, which is his excuse for being so awful at it. And his roommate is awful at it too, so it's not like he has a good role model or anything. That's why he's a failure. It's not his fault.

the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it by shinealightonme Monty really wants Bellamy to stop antagonizing the Starbucks across the street, until it gives him something to talk to the hot new barista about.

This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go by notjustalittlegirl If Miller was being completely honest with himself, he knew exactly why he had agreed to chaperone the stupid dance. That would be Monty. Monty fucking Green.

Or the one where Minty are teachers who are chaperoning the Valentine's Dance

this time it’s for galleons by jennycaakes Clarke bets Miller that she can kiss more people by the next Quidditch match than he can. Monty doesn't like being part of a bet.

Hogwarts AU, Miller x Monty

when we drive (in your car) by jennycaakes The Problem: Monty is upset. The Reason: Unknown. The Solution: A road trip to the Pacific Ocean, just the two of them.

Where I Keep You in My Mind by bythelightofthenight It's unable to control love. There are bonded who marry, who separate, who never meet each other, who find one another and don't care. There's people who dedicate their lives to finding the one they're bonded with, but there's just as many who never spend a day of their lives thinking about it.

Nathan's best friend happens to be the type to dream of a romantic bond. Bellamy loves the idea of love. He's convinced he's bonded with his soulmate.

When Nathan tells his father he wishes Bellamy could feel what he feels, David smiles kindly. Those feelings are just as important, he says.

- a soulmate ish au where you feel the other person's emotions

you are my unraveling by katsumi Miller is not worried. He's concerned. There's a difference.

Or: No one can get a hold of Monty, who's driving through a snow storm to Clarke's ski cabin for the weekend, and Miller has zero chill about it.

you know that you make it shine by kissteethstainedred Nathan Miller, famous and record-breaking football star (and who never once listened to or even heard of Triptych), and Monty Green, member of the up-and-coming band Triptych (and who hated football), happened to meet though a night of random chance.

you’re all already dead by Ibbonray "I'm sorry Bryan's gone, but we've all lost someone."

Miller laughs. His eyes are bleary, focused on Monty's skinny wrists. "That's right! You're a murderer too."

you’re my armor, i’m your defeat by jennycaakes Monty and Miller have been dating for years, but when Harper comes to visit things start to get a little tricky.

Miller x Monty

#minty100 #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #Monty/Miller #monty x miller #Nathan Miller #monty green x nathan miller #minty

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