#damn and ive been on a drawing streak too

[itsmajel]

I posted 1,456 times in 2022

That's 146 more posts than 2021!

72 posts created (5%)

1,384 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ruffboijuliaburnsides

@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

@yetanotherobsessivereader

@comebackcas

@thelittleblackfox

I tagged 162 of my posts in 2022

#0 - 30 posts

#buddie - 44 posts

#majel arts - 29 posts

#fic rec - 25 posts

#911 fox - 22 posts

#911 fanart - 21 posts

#majel reads - 20 posts

#buddie fanart - 16 posts

#self promo - 16 posts

#because look i made this! - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#nowadays if the post does not have pictures i am usually confused at least 3/4 of it until ive figured out who its about

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Remember that shirtless firefighter calendar from season 2 that Eddie and Buck didn’t get into?

Yeah, me too.

Anyone else bummed we didn’t get to see their entries because damn we should have?

Yeah, me too.

Fortunately I remembered I can in fact draw and cast them both for 2022. I know I already drew Eddie once but I felt like I could do even better now and also I just can’t stop myself and really why should I?! So here we go again:

Eddie’s second entry to the LAFD Calendar 2022. Buck had no input in this pose, but it has him hot under the collar anyway. Enough to have him shelling out 18 bucks for a calendar he already owns. Again, it’s for charity and Evan Buckley is a charitable guy.

See reblogs for links to Buck’s and Eddie’s other entries and TK’s and Carlos‘ entries to the Austin first responder calendar 2022.

[Image description: The artwork shows a man—Eddie Diaz—posing shirtless. One neon yellow and silver suspender is visible, draped over his left shoulder and secured to the waistband of his dark pants. The thumb of his left hand is hooked in the black clasp of the suspender, resting on his hip. The red band of the right suspender is just about visible, undone and hanging down by his right hip. A smattering of chest hair lines Eddie’s naked chest, as well as a happy trail disappearing into his pants. A tattoo in Spanish can partially be seen wrapped around his left forearm, the words ‘la mente y’ just about visible. The background is a turquoise hue with streaks of white through it. The artwork was done digitally.]

202 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#4

“Did you know you produce enough saliva in a year to fill two bathtubs?”

“Are you seriously giving me facts about saliva right now?”

“What? It’s interesting and sort of relevant and -”

“Buck, just shut up and kiss me okay?”

Smiling Buck closed the space and did just that. He kissed Eddie and it felt like fireworks exploded in his chest. Bursting with colour and light and warmth and something that felt an awful lot like happiness...

* * * *

I’m finally back with some Buddie art and this one is dedicated to all the magic, fireworks going off, world stopping, world changing first kisses in fanfic. I love them and Buck and Eddie deserve one. So this is my attempt to visualize that special moment. It’s also the first Buddie kiss I drew way back in …. May. Yes that’s how long it took me to post this even though I’ve been posting my art chronologically (the pride month art being the exception). So yeah please stay tuned for more to come. 

See reblogs for links to more Buddie art by me and the taglist.

[Image description: The artwork shows two men kissing in the foreground—one taller blond (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley) on the right, and one shorter brunet (Eddie Diaz) on the left. Both men’s eyes are closed. Eddie is heavily stubbled, wearing a maroon T-shirt and Buck is wearing a grey T-shirt with his signature birthmark visible around his left eyebrow. They are backlit by a bursting lens flare. The background is a soft, baby blue hue, with a myriad of coloured confetti decorating the image. The artwork was done digitally.]

263 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

#3

A Buddie sticker design I did for my lovely and beloved friend @octoberobserver who complained there wasn’t enough Buddie merch out there.

I am personally holding her responsible for a) getting me into this mess by making me binge watch season 1 - 4 of this silly litte show and even worse b) delivering the epiphany that Eddie is in fact hot guy from Step Up 4.

For once I have not crawled willingly into this dumpster but been forcefully shoved. Anyway hi 911 Buddie folks, I love it here!

330 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

#2

“Dad, come on! Buck wants to take a picture of us!”

“Yes Eddie come on, I want to take a picture of us!”

“Of course you do, don’t you have a million of them already?”

“Yeah, but one can never have enough pictures of one's favourite Diaz boys. Also I have a feeling this is gonna be a good one!”

* * * *

I’ve been promising some Buddie family art and deliver I shall. Here’s Buck’s favorite playground selfie of the three of them. Eddie teases him for having it as his phone background but it gives him a little happy flutter in his stomach whenever he looks at it so he doesn’t mind. Especially when he finds a copy stuck on Eddie's fridge a few days later.

[Image description: The artwork shows two men in the foreground—one blond (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley) and one brunet (Eddie Diaz) standing either side of a young brunet child wearing glasses (Christopher Diaz). Everyone is smiling brightly at the camera that is being held up by Buck, posing in front of the outline of a playground. Buck, on the left side of the frame, is wearing a red shirt with a white T-shirt peeking through underneath. Christopher, in the middle, is wearing a light blue shirt while Eddie, on the right, is wearing a darker blue T-shirt. In the background, a bright, clear blue sky can be seen behind the outline of the playground. The artwork was done digitally. ]

366 notes - Posted August 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Happy Pride month everyone! Here are Buck and Eddie celebrating the day and proudly showing the world that they are, in fact, more than buddies! ❤️ 🌈 

[Image description: Artwork shows two men—one a taller blond (Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley) and the other, a shorter brunet (Eddie Diaz) kissing. On the left—Buck is wearing a black T-Shirt. He is holding up a bisexual flag (pink, purple and blue striped) in the air with his left hand. On the right—Eddie is wearing a grey T-Shirt. He is holding up the gay flag (rainbow striped) in the air with his right hand. Both men are wearing pride wristbands and their faces are painted with a pride flag, one on Buck’s right cheek, and one on Eddie’s left. Their eyes are closed and smile lines are visible. The background shows a bright blue sky, with fluffy clouds, while multicoloured confetti rains down over the entire image. The artwork was done digitally.]

916 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false #not suprised about buddie being at the top of everything #also thanks to everyone who welcomed me and my art into the fandom!!!

[sir-sunny]

oh d ear

hh,,ok soo,, i think i broke my laptop charager aksjshsgsk i gotta buy a new one,, soooo drawings gotta be on hold for juuuust a second

#pls dont unfollow me just give me a second ajshskajsv #damn and ive been on a drawing streak too #im sorry ill get to ur requests #akdjshskakajhshskajsgakajgsgs ughhhh #sorry #sunny speaks #oh! but i can do hc requests so #thats good

[ssfghfrrggf]

One More Time

Plot: a sort of alternate way the season finale could have gone? But it’s mostly just it’s own thing.

warnings: canon typical violence, kidnapping mention, A N G S T

@adamruz i’m doing my civic duty and tagging you in yet another one of my painful burzek fics (:

“Ruz! Don’t do anything stupid!” Kevin hisses, keeping his body pressed against the pillar shielding him from the fire being laid down against them, Jay is huddled next to him, and Adam’s pinned down behind another pillar a good 10 feet away; Kevin can see the wheels spinning in his friends head, like he’s calculating something, coming up with some stupid and recless plan. He knows the look, he knows Adam is about to do something monumentally stupid, but his best friend is to far away for him to stop him. He tries getting Adam’s attention again. “Ruz!”

Adam doesn’t respond, he’s still running through what ever stupid plan he has. 

“Ruzek!” Kevin tries again, and the only response he gets from his partner is a head shake. They’ve been at odds almost since the moment they found out Kim was missing. They even almost came to blows; this whole case has been hell, Kim being missing has been hell, for Adam especially. He’s still mad at him but the last thing he needs right now is for Adam to do something stupid and get himself killed. “Whatever you’re thinking, don't do it!”

“Wait for backup!” Jay adds, meeting Kevin’s gaze for a second. He’s scared for what Adam’s about to attempt too.

Adam tightens his grip on his gun.

“Don’t do it Ruz!” Jay shouts as more bullets spray against the pillar they’re sheltered behind.

“We have to save Kim.” Is Adam’s only response and then he stands up and ducks out from the safety of the pillar standing as a shield between him and the gun fire.

“Adam!” Kevin screams and tries to leap forward, but Jay catches him by the vest and holds him back as Adam goes down. He manages to get off one shot that takes out the guy who shot Adam before Jay yanks him back. “No! Ruz! No!”

Jay pokes around the pillar just long enough to lay down some return fire. Kevin tries to pull against his grip. He has to get to Adam, he has to save his partner, but Jay yanks him back once again.

“Kevin! Stop!” Jay shouts, his eyes are wide and scared, reflecting what Kevin is feeling. “We don’t need both of you shot! We need a plan!”

“We have to get him,” Kevin chokes looking over his shoulder at his partner. He’s ten feet away. Ten feet, laying in a growing puddle of blood. He feels sick and his mind is running at a million miles an hour. They have to help Adam.

“We will! But there’s no point in all three of us dying,” Jay says, shaking Kevin. “So we need a damn plan!”

Kevin swallows and nods his head.

“I’ll draw them out, you pick them off, got it?” Jay says evenly, glancing around the edge of the pillar for a split second and is instantly met with bullets whizzing past his head.

“How the hell are you going to do that?” Kevin demands.

“I’m going to let them see just enough of me that it entices them to shoot at me,” Jay replies, glancing around the corner again. “You get low, and they’ll be so busy paying attention to me so they won’t notice you.”

“Jay-”

“It’s the only move we’ve got, Kevin,” Jay replies sharply.

Kevin glances over at Adam, who’s not moving and then back at Jay. He doesn’t like the plan, but it’s the only one they have and it’s their best shot at saving Adam, he can even still be saved.

“We got Kim, we’re falling back to the safe zone,” Jay hesitates as Hailey’s voice comes over the radio.

“We got this,” Kevin reassures him.

Jay nods. “You ready?”

“Yes.” Kevin lowers himself to the floor and lays on his belly and very slowly and cautiously leans around the edge of the pillar as Jay steps out of the safety of their shield for a half a second. One of the guys across the parking garage shows themself to shoot at Jay, but Kevin pulls the trigger and takes him down before he can shoot Jay. The other guy opens fire just as Jay ducks back to safety.

“One more,” Jay says, gripping his gun, getting ready to step out of safety again.

“I’m ready when you are,” Kevin says, placing his finger on the trigger.

Jay nods and steps out of their cover once again. The other shooter  reveals himself for a second, but a second is all Kevin needs. He shoots the guy before he can get one shot off at Jay. Kevin doesn’t waste a second dropping his gun and clamoring to his feet. He half runs half stumbles across the floor and collapses on the floor next to Adam.

“Ruz!” Kevin chokes, lifting Adam’s head off the bloody ground with one hand and tearing open his vest with the other. There’s so much blood he can’t tell where it’s all coming from. “Ruz, Ruz you gotta wake up man, you gotta stay with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam mumbles around a mouthful of blood, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking,” Kevin demands, adjusting his grip on his partner. “What the hell were you thinking!”

“I’m sorry,” Adam repeats, and he means it, from the very bottom of his heart, Kevin can tell he means it. And he knows he’s not just apologizing for what he just did. He’s apologizing for everything. “I couldn’t let anything happen to Kim or…”

“Don’t do that man,” Kevin begs, holding Adam upright and cradling him in his arms. He can feel Jay walk soberly up behind him, and he can hear him radio to dispatch that they have an officer down. “Don’t. Just hang in there okay? You’re going to be okay.”

“Or you…” Adam finishes before his head slumps forward against his bloody chest.

“No! Damn it Ruz, stay with me,” Kevin cries, rocking his partner, trying to shake him back awake, bring him back. The last real conversation they had had was them yelling at each other to go to hell and trying to punch each other in the face.

Jay doesn’t say anything, he stands silently next to Kevin and hangs his head.

***

Hailey hears Jay’s officer down call come in over the radio as she climbs up into the ambulance with Kim. She hesitates on the step leading into the back. She has a deep gut feeling that it’s Adam. He’s smart, he’s tough, he knows what he’s doing, but he gets stupid when it comes to things involving Kim.

“Where’s Adam?” Kim mumbles, drawing Hailey’s attention back to her and the ambulance and the current situation. Hailey switches off the radio and ducks inside the ambulance. If she’s right Kim doesn’t need to find out from radio chatter.

“He’s going to meet us at the hospital,” Hailey says, taking Kim’s hand. Brett is on her other side starting an IV. It’s not exactly a lie, it could be true, but saying it still hurts. Hailey’s chest aches

“I need to tell him something,” Kim adds and lifts her head off the stretcher. “Where is he?”

“He’s helping clean this mess up,” Hailey says, trying to sound comforting and reassuring, but she’s so unsure herself.

“But he’s always here,” Kim groans and lets her head fall back against the back onto the stretcher.

“Burgess, I need you to hold still,” Brett says gently, holding Kim’s arm against her body to steady it while she starts get the IV ready to go into her arm.

“I need Adam,” Kim insists, ignoring the paramedic. “Hailey-”

“He’ll meet us at the hospital, Kim,” Hailey promises, and tries to make herself believe it. She wishes she could unhear her partner’s call over the radio. He sounded sick and heart broken when he said it, and lost, lost like he didn’t know what to do or what to say.

Kim shakes her head miserably and tears start building in her eyes.

“Hey, shhh,” Hailey soothes and squeezes her hand. “He’ll be there Kim. You know that, he loves you.”

This seems to only make things worse because Kim starts crying harder.

***

She feels completely alone. At the very core of her being there's an empty pit opening up and swallowing her hole. She knows Hailey and Brett are with her, but it feels like there’s no one, Adam’s not there with her so she might as well be alone. She needs him. She needs him to wrap her in his strong arms and hold her against his chest so she can hear his heartbeat and she needs him to promise everything will be okay. But he’s not there with her, he’s always there. No matter what he’s always there, he’s the anchor that holds her in place and keeps her grounded even when everything seems to be falling apart around her. And right now everything is falling apart, the world is crumbling around her and he’s not there. She’s alone and being sucked into an empty pit of blackness.

She closes her eyes trying to stop the tears from coming, but it doesn’t help. She can feel Hailey squeeze her hand, but that somehow only makes things worse because it’s not Adam holding her hand. She wants to believe Hailey that Adam will meet them at the hospital, but she’s scared. Somethings wrong, she can tell. Hailey’s scared too, she recognizes the forced calm in her voice.

“Hailey, what happened,” she tries again to get the detective to tell her something.

“You’re safe, you’re on your way to med. Everything is going to be okay.”

Kim knows it’s a lie. How can everything be okay if Adam isn’t here?

***

At the hospital they take Kim straight back to an exam room, and Hailey has barely watched the stretcher disappear into a room before the hospital doors are opening and there’s another stretcher being rolled in with Adam laying on top of it dripping blood onto the floor. Jay and Kevin are walking right along with him. Kevin has blood smeared on his hands and face, and there are tears streaking down his face. And Jay just looks lost.

“37 year old male, multiple gunshot wounds, shocked once in transport,” the paramedic is announcing  as the stretcher gets passed off to the Dr. Choi and Dr. Marcel.

Hailey swallows hard and looks away.

“Hey,” Jay breathes and pulls her aside , so he’s blocking her view of Adam with his body.

“What happened?” Hailey asks, stepping back from him just a little. This whole case has thrown everything onto the rocks. Things are prickly between everyone. She loves Jay but she’s not ready to cling to him and cry into his arms. She’s not ready to let him hold her.

Jay looks a little hurt by her pull away from him, but the majority of the worry and pain in his eyes is not for her or because of her.

“He got stupid,” Jay says, and it comes out curt and a little harsh. “We got pinned down and he decided it was a good idea to try to rush the shooters. He didn’t have a damn plan.”

He sounds angry, but she knows it’s only because he cares.

Hailey nods slightly, but doesn’t say anything to her partner. Instead she leaves him to go check on Kevin who is standing in a dazed trance looking at something on the floor. As she gets closer to him, she realizes it’s blood.

“I told him to go to hell,” Kevin says quietly as she approaches him and rests her hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” she says, trying to sound comforting. “He knows you didn’t mean it.”

“I told my best friend to go to hell,” Kevin repeats without looking up. “What was I thinking? He thinks I hate him… that’s the last thing he’s gonna think.”

“Kevin! Look at me!” Hailey says firmly, making him look up at her. “He knows you don’t hate him, okay? He knows that!”

It’s not entirely true. She’d been with Adam after his fight with Kevin, he’d been so angry and upset. He’d blamed himself for everything, for Kim getting kidnapped, for his fight with Kevin. He’d been convinced he messed everything up, betrayed his best friend and failed the love of his life. He’d said he ruined everything to try to save Kim and in the end he wasn’t even able to do that.

***

Kim knew Hailey was lying to her in the ambulance ride over, but at least during the ride over she could hope, but now she’s sitting in a hospital room, alone with no sign of Adam. She keeps expecting him to walk through the door, but he never does and at this point she’s convinced he won’t.

“Hey Burgess.” Trudy is the one to walk in as the door swings open. She looks tired, relieved to be seeing Kim, but tired.

“Where’s Adam?” Kim asks as the desk sergeant sits down next to her bed.

Trudy sighs and purses her lips. 

“Trudy, please,” Kim presses.

Trudy hesitates before finding her words. “Kim..” she says it with so much pity and sorrow that it feels like a kick to the stomach.

“No,” Kim chokes, shaking her head. She knows what’s about to be said, and it can’t be true, she refuses to believe it.

“Kim, he got shot,” Trudy continues softly.

“No,” Kim repeats, refusing to hear what she has to say next. He can’t die.

“Hey, they’re doing everything they can for him,” Trudy whispers, her voice cracking. Kim can see tears welling in her eyes. “He’s in good hands. He’s going to be okay.”

It’s all empty promises, hopeful lies meant to offer false reassurance. She can see it in Trudy’s eyes, he’s going to die. The police sergeant doesn’t believe what she’s just said.

‘He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Kim can feel her bottom lip quivering as she says and Trudy seems to melt, droop into this old tired woman who’s weary and lost in her fears too.

“Don’t do that, Kim,” she tries, but even the normally unwavering Trudy Platt can’t stop her voice from cracking.

“Isn’t he?” Kim repeats miserably, tears beginning to well in her eyes as she sits up, ignoring the pain from her movement. Nothing hurts more than the pain bursting open in her chest, nothing hurts more than the thought of losing Adam.

Trudy places a steady hand on Kim’s thigh and shakes her head. “I don’t know, Kim. I don’t know.”

It’s the most honest thing anyone has said to her since being found. Ever the promises that she’d be fine were lies, how can she be fine while Adam is dying? How can she ever be fine if he dies. He’s her constant, when she’s beaten and bruised, he’s there. When the world is spinning out of control, he’s there. When she’s facing devastating loss, he’s there. She can’t imagine climbing the mountains life has thrown at her without him. She can’t imagine her life without him, she doesn’t even want to try. She doesn’t ever want to live without him.

“He can’t die,” Kim says hopelessly looking into Trudy’s tears stained gaze.

“Come here,” Trudy chokes and wraps her arms around Kim in a tight tug, holding her close to her body. “Come here.”

***

“What the hell happened?” Voight demands, marching into the waiting room and rapidly approaching Atwater and Halstead who are standing in a corner talking in hushed tones with their backs to the room. Hailey is sitting close to them, but she’s staring into space and doesn’t say anything or even look up as Hank approaches the small part of his unit that’s left standing. Jay and Kevin both turn slowly to face him. They’re exhausted and their gazes are dull and spacy; they’ve been run ragged by the case, and a pang of guilt flares up inside of him as he really takes in the appearance of his team.

Jay sighs and straightens up his slumped shoulders, and Hailey finally looks up, but keeps her chin resting on her hand. 

“Kim’s beat up, but physically she’ll be fine,” Jay says and glances at Kevin, who looks at the floor. The detective looks angry, and something passes through his gaze settling in like storm clouds on the horizon. “Ruz took two to the chest and one to the stomach. Where the hell were you?”

Hank’s first instinct is to fight the challenge from his most senior detective, but Hailey steps between them and makes him take a second to rethink.

“Not here, Jay,” she warns, putting one hand on her partner’s chest. She knows where he was, or at least has a pretty good guess, Hank is certain of that much. One of the guys who took Kim had rabbeted; Hank went after him.

“No, I wanna know where he was!” Jay shouts, righteous anger filling his voice. The weight of everything seems to finally be crashing down on top of him and breaking his floodwalls. “We got pinned down, Ruzek got shot three damn times, you got Kim out with patrol. Where the hell was he!”

“Jay,” Hailey says quietly and shakes her head.

The detective nods his head, glaring out at Voight; he seems to be putting together all the pieces as he keeps his gaze locked with Hank’s. “Unbelievable.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hank challenges. He knows exactly what it means, and exactly what Jay is thinking, and he’s right.

“You executed your revenge fantasy. You left and opened this unit up to further harm so you could carry out your perception of justice, and Adam got shot!” Jay shouts, pushing against Hailey.

“He had to pay!” Voight shouts back, losing his cool.

“And he would’ve!” Jay shouts  louder.

“He murdered children, he beat Kim, do you get that?”

“That doesn’t mean you can murder him,” Jay says dangerously, and one hand falls to the hand cuff tucked into his belt. “It’s horrible and evil, but that doesn’t mean you can leave, put us at risk and commit murder. When we cross that line we become no better than the people we work to put away.”

***

“How’s she doing?” Kevin asks, shuffling into  Kim’s hospital room. She’s asleep, but Trudy is sitting up in a chair next to her flipping through a magazine. After Jay and Voight decided to take their argument to the roof and Will telling him and Hailey it’ll be another couple hours before they know how Adam’s surgery went he decided to move on to Kim’s room to check in on her and wait for news there.

“She’s hurting and scared for Adam,” Trudy says quietly, setting her magazine down on her lap. She gestures to a chair in the corner. “Pull a chair up and have a seat.”

He sighs and does as he’s told. It feels like it’s been an eternity since he’s sat down, and finally taking the weight off his legs makes him realize just how heavy he felt.

“I feel like I messed up,” Kevin finally says after a long time of sitting in silence and looks up at Platt who sets down her magazine again. She doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently for him to elaborate. “We fought.”

Trudy nods. He knows she knows this, she was there.

“I don’t regret standing my ground or taking the side I did. I’d do it again, I just…” He trails off. “Ruz is my best friend and he got shot, and I can’t help but wonder if he was trying to prove something.”

“Prove what?” Trudy asks, leaning back in her chair.

“I don’t know, that he’d still have my back, and still risk his life for me,” Kevin says slowly, letting his gaze fall to the floor. He can’t help but feel like maybe he made Adam feel like what he did was something he had to do to prove himself. “But I didn’t need him to do that. He should’ve known that. I should’ve made sure he knew I still trusted him with my life.”

“It’s not your fault Kevin,” Trudy says after contemplating his words for a couple seconds. “It’s not your fault he made the choice he did, and I think he would’ve made it regardless.”

Kevin shakes his head, he can feel tears welling in his eyes. “I just don’t want him to die, Platt.”

The desk sergeant looks like she’s about to say more, but Kim moans softly next to her and flinches and stops her from saying what ever she was about to say.

“Hey, Burgess,” Kevin says and scoots closer to his old partner’s bed. He rests his hand on top of hers to let her know he’s there.

She blinks her eyes open slowly, and looks up at him. Her gaze is pained and haunted like she’s seen a ghost.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kevin asks scooting a little closer to her.

She shakes her head. “Adam…”

Kevin glances at Trudy for a second before looking back to his old partner. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Kim shakes her head again. “I had a dream,” she says with chilling calm, and her tone is that of someone lost and broken, or maybe someone who has lost something. She swallows hard,  “He died.”

“Hey, he’s not gonna die,” Kevin promises, but she doesn’t look convinced, and in all truth, he’s not convinced of what he just said either. He’s still not even sure how Adam survived the trip to the hospital. He’d lost more blood than Kevin even thought was humanly possible; there was so much of it making a pool on the ground around his body, soaking into the knees of Kevin’s pants, staining his hands as he desperately tried in vain to stop it or even slow it down- Kevin closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath trying to shake the memory, but he can’t. He can remember it, feel it even, so clearly and it won’t go away. The hot stickiness of Adam’s blood as it pushed against his hands and soaked into his own clothes and made them stick to his skin. How cold his hand was when Kevin grabbed it in the ambulance, how white his skin was.

“Kevin,” Trudy’s stern voice cuts through his unwanted memories and brings him back to reality.

“Sorry,” Kevin chokes, shaking himself, and when he looks back at Kim  she’s looking at him like she knows exactly what was running through his mind.

***

Hailey follows Hank and Jay into Kim’s hospital room. Neither of them say a word and she doesn’t ask them for the details of whatever conversation they’ve just had. Hank looks like he’s just been yelling, but Jay looks unruffled, just grim. She can only imagine what was being said, Hank had all but confessed to murdering the guy responsible for kidnapping Kim, and Jay had openly accused him of doing just that.

“How are you holding up, Burgess?” Voight asks gruffly as he comes to a standstill at the foot of her bed. His face betraying nothing about what was said between him and Jay after they left to talk privately on the roof.

Kim glances around at all of them. “I’m fine.”

She doesn’t say anything about how scared she is for Adam, but Hailey can tell she’s terrified. She knows exactly what she’s feeling.

“Good, good,” Hank says and rests one hand on her leg.

Jay clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest expectantly. Hank ducks his head. Hailey frowns and studies both of them, she’s never seen duck at someone else’s authority, especially not someone he outranks, but she can feel the shift between the two of them. Jay seems to be standing just a little taller, and Hank seems like he’s sunk somehow. It’s like there was some fight on that roof and Jay not only won, but somehow managed to surpass their leader.

“I have news guys,” Hank says, and Kevin cocks an eyebrow and looks to Jay who gives him a subtle curt nod. “I’m resigning from the CPD.”

Kim and Trudy both look stunned, Kevin doesn’t look surprised in the least, and Jay looks relieved. Hailey had been expecting something dramatic, but this wasn’t exactly this.

“Hank, why?” Trudy asks.

“It’s time,” he replies curtly, and side eyes Jay.

“Jay, can we talk?” Hailey asks, grabbing her partner and pulling him out into the hallway before he can respond or argue. 

“What did you do?” she demands as soon as they’re out of ear shot from Kim’s room. She knows Voight didn’t come to this decision on his own.

“I gave him a choice,” Jay says confidently. There’s zero conflict in his voice about whatever conversation he had with Voight. “We both know what he was doing. He murdered that guy and he put the unti at risk while he was at it. So I told him he either resigns and let him do it with some dignity, or I bring him up on murder charges.”

Hailey raises both her eyebrows in shock. “You really did that?”

“He crossed a line, Hailey,” Jay replies evenly. “And it wasn’t the first time. I’m not letting him get away scott free this time.”

***

It’s late when Marcel finally walks into Kim’s hospital room to deliver the news on Adam’s condition, and it’s just her and Trudy. So much has been happening Kim almost wishes he’d wait just so she can catch up and process her world spinning out of control before something else is thrown at her, but more than that she needs to know whether Adam will be okay.

“He made it through surgery,” the surgeon reports, his tone is gentle and comforting. “He’s not out of the woods yet, and he’s got a rough road to recovery ahead of him, but he’s stable.”

Kim lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and lets herself fall back against her pillow, relief flooding over her in waves and lifting the tiniest amount of weight off her chest. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s made it this far. He has a good fighting chance now; she might not lose him after all.

“Can I go see him?” She asks shifting in bed so she’s sitting up again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marcel says hesitantly. “You still need rest and take time to heal-”

“I’m fine,” Kim says firmly without missing a beat. Her body still aches, but comparatively she’s fine, she didn’t get shot. “He can’t wake up alone. I need to be there for him. He needs to know I’m okay when he wakes up.”

She knows Adam, she knows the way his mind works, and she has a pretty good idea of how he handled things while she was kidnapped. She needs to be there for him when he wakes up to promise him she’s okay. Not only that but she needs to see him, she needs to be there with him to see for herself that he’s going to be okay. She doesn’t care if she’s still hurting, she needs to see him. She needs him.

“Kim-”

“Please,” she pleads.

Marcel sighs and slumps his shoulders. “Okay, fine, just until he wakes up and then you need to come back here and rest.”

“Thank you,” Kim breathes, managing to relax ever so slightly. Just the thought of being allowed to be close to him makes her feel better. She’s so used to him being right there next to her everytime she needs him, he just always seems to know, like it’s his sixth sense, but this time she’s going to be there for him.

Adam’s room is quiet, too quiet; Adam is still, too still, still like he’s barely clinging to life, like he might slip away at any moment.

“I’m right here,” Kim whispers as she eases herself into the chair next to his bed and takes his hand in hers. It’s really the only thing she can think to say. She’s there and she’s not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter how long it takes him to wake up, she’s going to be there waiting for him when he comes back to her. His fingers twitch a little as she wraps her other hand around his so it’s clasped between both her hands, but other than that he doesn’t stir. He remains still and quiet.

“You’re not supposed to be the one to get hurt,” she says quietly, it seems wrong to interrupt the quiet of the room by raising her voice above a whisper, so she keeps it low. “You’ve gotta stay safe for me and Makayla, because we both know I’m apparently incapable of doing that. Adam, I need you.” She’s not sure he can hear her, but she hopes he can, and that hope is enough to keep her talking. Maybe her words will bring him back to her, give him something to cling to the way his words always did for her. “Come back to me. Please. I don’t want to do this without you.”

She can feel tears stinging her eyes as she lifts his hand to her lips; it hurts. Deep down in her chest it hurts seeing him like this, so still and quiet. She’s not exactly sure what it's like to feel her heart break, but she’s pretty sure this feeling like her chest is being crushed and the lump in her throat she can’t swallow is pretty close to it. The sound of weak shallow breaths claws at her like nothing she’s ever felt before, it hurts. It hurts worse than all the times she’s been kicked, beaten, and shot. She’s only felt this hollow aching pain once before, and that was after the miscarrage, but even then she had Adam there with her to help fill the emptiness left behind, to remind her she wasn’t alone. But now he’s the reason for that hollow pit inside of her. The one person who she needs to promise her everything will be okay, is the one person who can’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, finding her voice again through the lump in the back of her throat. And it conveys everything she needs to say to him all at once. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She spent so much time pushing him away, fighting him everytime he tried to get close to her, but he never gave up. He kept coming back, kept trying, and she kept pushing, but now she’s done pushing. Now she’s trying to pull him back to her, cling to him and keep with her, but for the first time he just seems to be drifting away. He seems to be leaving her.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away from me,” she chokes, kissing his hand. She’s not a doctor but even she knows the numbers on the heart monitor next to him are lower than they should be, and they’ve gotten lower since she first came into the room. He’s slipping. “I’m sorry, please stay with me. Come back to me one more time. Just one more time. Please.”

She rests her head on the bed next to him so he can feel her next to him.

“I’m right here,” she promises one last time.

***

Kim wakes up to gentle fingers combing through her hair. She lifts her head and discovers Adam looking at her, with his head tilted in her direction; the smile on his face is weak and dazed, but it’s a smile, and she can tell from the glint in his tired eyes that it’s genuine.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he mumbles, struggling to get the words.

“No, I’m glad you did,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes again. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, and frankly at the moment she’s not convinced she’s not dreaming.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Adam wheezes and brushes her cheek with his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She’s supposed to be the one comforting him, not the other way around. He’s the one who got shot and almost died, not her, but here she is, terrified, and him yet again being the one to comfort her.

“They told me you got shot,” she chokes, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “I thought you were gonna die. I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Kim, I’m not going anywhere, ever, I promise,” Adam says, firmer this time. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Kim nods through her tears. “I just-”

“It’s okay,” Adam promises and with all the tenderness in the world, pulls her close to him as she begins to cry harder. “I’m okay Kim. I promise”

She can feel him relax as her head rests against his chest, and he lets out a sigh that can only be described as one of relief, like he’s letting his own worries go as he helps her let go of hers. She squeezes her eyes closed as she keeps her head leaned against his chest and soaks in his presence and the warmth of his body.

“I’m sorry,” Kim says aloud for him to hear this time.

“Don’t do that,” Adam soothes.

“No, Adam I’m sorry,” she says and lifts her head so she’s looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve spent so much time pushing you away, and then I almost lost you, and I can’t lose you. I don’t ever want to live without you. Adam, I love you.”

“Kim…” Adam looks surprised, not a bad kind of surprised, not even a disbelieving kind of surprised, just surprised like he wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“I love you Adam,” she says with more emphasis this time.

And now it’s his turn to start crying. His tears come from nowhere and spill down his cheeks, and before Kim knows it he’s sitting up and wrapping his arms around her.

“I love you too,” he chokes out, burying his face in her shoulder. “I was so scared, Kim. I was so scared, I thought I wasn’t going to be able to find you. Nothing else mattered. I love you so much, Kim.”

He melts into her arms and clings to her like his life depends on it. Kim wraps her arms around him and leans her head against his. Her body hurts and aches from the beating she received, and she’s sure Adam’s hurting too, but it’s all just physical, just superficial, and she doesn’t mind it at all because she’s close to Adam and nothing else matters. He’s okay, he is going to be okay, they are going to be okay.

#chicago pd fic #cpd fic #burzek #upstead #burzek fic #adam ruzek #kim burgess #kevin atwater #jay halstead #hailey upton #hank voight #trudy platt

[lumosinlove]

Coast To Coast

part iv

(Takes place just before Sweater Weather part xiii’s trip to Florida...and everything else.)

Gryffindor, 2019

Finn knew that it was natural, to be homesick. He remembered being homesick, calling his brother before he had any real friends on the team, just to have another, familiar voice to listen to while he heated up some take-out leftovers in the microwave. But it was different, watching Leo go through it.

“It’s just the cold,” Leo always said with a little shrug, gathering his sweatshirt in his hands, but Finn knew that wasn’t just it. They were about three months into the season, right when the newness had started to ware off for him, too, and Finn could tell that, even if Leo was enjoying himself, he got down at night. He’d go out onto their balcony, bundled to all hell despite it being what Finn considered a relatively mild 50 degrees, as if to recreate some heat, and look up.

Finn usually sat inside, but tonight he followed him.

“Big city, huh?” he said, handing Leo a cup of hot chocolate. At Leo’s suspicious look, he laughed. “I can make this! My brother taught me when I was little.”

“Why do I feel like you had this for dinner sometimes before I came along to cook for you,” Leo smiled into the mug, and took a sip. “Hm. Alright, it’s good.”

“Damn,” Finn said, leaning against the railing, “Nut approved. Knapproved.”

Leo winced, murmuring a, “Please no,” but he laughed anyway and took another sip.

The sound of the city below them seemed far away just then. The lights reflected up and into Leo’s blond hair, flashing red and blue across his face. Finn could only just make out the small patch that was streaked with gray in the dim light. Not for the first time, Finn wanted to reach out and brush his fingers through it.

“Can’t see the stars here,” Leo said suddenly. He glanced down at the lights below them, then back up to the sky. “Not like you can at home.”

Finn looked up. “Guess I never thought about it. Can’t see them in New York really.”

Leo didn’t reply, and Finn looked over at him. His brows were drawn together and he was clutching his cup close to his chest.

“I used to have those those little stars, though,” Finn said quickly. Suddenly, he would do anything to get rid of the hurt etched on Leo’s face. “You know, the ones you stick on the ceiling that glow in the dark? Had those when I was a kid.”

That drew a small smile from Leo, and the knot growing in Finn’s chest loosened a little. “Yeah?”

Finn moved closer to him. Even upset, Leo radiated a stable sort of force that Finn felt at home in.

“Yeah,” Finn said softly. “We could get those. In your room, I mean. Or anywhere. Or, like, string lights. Live your best college life and get string lights. I swear to God, there were more string lights in me and Tremz’s frat house than there were, like, dishes. People. One night stands. Those are…sort of star-like.”

Finn watched Leo nod slowly, eyes still on the sky. He blinked a few more times, as if considering the stars, and then turned to Finn.

“I’d like that, Harzy.”

The knot loosened further, and Finn smiled, putting a hand to Leo’s shoulder over his sweatshirt. “We’ll get them tomorrow. After practice.”

“Bringing the stars to me, eh?”

“I’d get you some real ones if I could,” Finn said immediately, and then clamped his mouth shut. That sounded too—too close to what was really happening inside of him.

Leo looked at him, too, eyebrows drawn together.

“What?”

“Like—” Finn turned to face forward, eyes flicking over the city. “Like real stars? Like—gas. But in a safe way.”

Leo stared at him for another second, and then laughed, nose scrunching. “Safe gaseous stars, huh?”

“Yeah,” Finn drummed his fingers against his cup. “I mean, supernovas are pretty, too.”

“You’re not wrong,” Leo leaned against the railing, staring down.

Finn hesitate only a second, watching the tense curve of Leo’s shoulders rise as he took a large breath, and then leaned beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“Want to talk about it?” Finn said quietly.

Leo raised a shoulder. “Just hard sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. Gryffindor, the Lions, living with you. I don’t know what I would be doing right now if I was just in some hotel room by myself.”

Finn laughed. “Yeah, that’s not a fun part of this. I’m glad I could help you skip that. I…” Finn shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d be doing all alone, either.”

Leo was silent, brows scrunched like he was thinking about something, trying to figure something out. Finn watched carefully, using the view of the city as an excuse. Through the reflecting lights, he noticed the fine strands of grayish hair that mingled with the blond, right at the front of Leo’s forehead again.

“You hit your head?” Finn asked before he could stop himself.

Leo looked at him. “What?”

“Here,” Finn reached up and brushed his fingers over the hair near one temple. It was soft, like he had thought it would be.

“Oh,” Leo nodded minutely. “I fell on our boat when I was five. It was pretty bad.”

“You have a boat?” Finn said. He was close enough to feel Leo’s soft breathing now. He hadn’t known when they had moved, or who had moved first, but Leo’s eyes were flicking between Finn’s eyes and his mouth, drawing Finn’s to do the same.

“Yeah,” Leo whispered.

Finn’s mouth felt dry. “Can I come on your boat?”

“Yeah,” Leo smiled a little, but his eyes were serious, curious. “Finn…”

“Yeah?” Finn whispered back.

He watched Leo swallow, wetting his lips as he chose his words. “Are,” he began. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Even as he said it, Leo ducked down a little, like he couldn’t help it, and their lips brushed. It sent a strange mixture of emotions through Finn. Guilt and want turned into confusion, which was pushed away by Leo’s blue, comforting eyes, reflecting brightly in the dark.

“Can I?” Finn asked, and even then, Leo’s hand was curling around the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Leo managed to breathe out before their mouths were pressing together, Finn’s heart leaping. Leo kissed soundly, like each one of his movements had a purpose.

Finn couldn’t help but think of Logan, who kissed with a burning fever. The two mingled together in his brain for a moment, but the more Leo kissed him, the more he felt a calm wash over him. It was nothing like he’d ever felt before, and it was something Finn only associated with Leo. If Logan was a hurricane, keeping him close, Leo was a steadily rocking boat, lulling him and pulling him like a tide.

Finn craved—both.

Fuck.

How does a hurricane meet a tide, and what did that make him?

Finn made a noise when Leo’s other hand pressed around his back, making Leo gasp in return. Finn pressed his free hand to Leo’s chilly cheek, and licked into his mouth, letting himself be pressed against the railing by Leo’s lean body. He could smell the chocolate rising with the steam from their cups, and he didn’t think he’d ever smell that scent the same way again. Chocolate, once meaning snow and skating, meant Leo now. The same way that rum and sugarcane meant Logan.

“Finn—” Leo gasped. “Finn.”

“Is this a lot?” Even as he said it, they pressed together for a last kiss. “Sorry, fuck.”

“No, no, this is amazing,” Leo laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck me, I’m kissing Finn O’Hara, but…”

Finn’s stomach flipped. “But?”

“Logan,” Leo said simply.

Finn’s eyes widened. “You like Logan?”

Leo raised an eyebrow, confused. “You like Logan.”

“Oh.”

Leo blinked at him. “Right?”

“I…It’s more—it’s…more complicated than that. Hang on, how the fuck?”

“What?”

“How the fuck did you know?”

“You…I don’t know I just,” Leo shrugged, setting his drink on the railing. “Maybe it’s because I’m gay, too, I see the way you look at each other.”

“I’m not gay,” Finn said.

Leo looked at his mouth, still red from making out.

“No, no,” Finn laughed. “I mean like—you’re hot, but June’s hot. Kasey’s hot, and Natalie’s hot…everyone’s really hot.”

Leo’s eyes widened. “June.”

“No, no, no,” Finn shook his head. “That’s different.”

“What?”

Finn groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He set his drink beside Leo’s, turning to face the city for a moment, and then looked at Leo again. “June’s not my girlfriend.”

Leo shook his head slowly. “Um. Okay, we’ll come back to that later but, you might want to let some people know that. Like Logan. Like—”

Leo swallowed. Like me. He couldn’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted and placed on his chest at the same time. Finn kissed him. Finn wanted him? He didn’t know.

“I know, that’s why I’m stupid.”

Leo took a step back, out of Finn’s reach. “Why did you kiss me?”

Finn’s cheeks flushed in the darkness. “It’s—complicated.”

Leo stared at Finn, his blue eyes confused and a little guarded now that they were talking rather than kissing.

“This is a lot of information,” Leo said slowly, and Finn nearly whined.

He clutched at his chest. “Yeah, well it’s a hell of a lot of feelings, too.” He paused, staring at Leo. “I don’t know what’s going on. My brain’s a lot. So is my—” Finn blinked, and suddenly his eyes were shining, voice cracking. “So is my heart. Leo, I—”

Leo looked at Finn. Finn reached out, and then moved to pulled his hands back to his chest.

But Leo caught them. “Just talk to me, Harzy.”

Finn’s hands squeezed his own, a surprised little pulse. “Logan never wants to talk about it.”

Leo’s heart pounded as he held Finn’s hands in his own. “If he’s scared…of course he doesn’t.”

Finn nodded and then looked down, eyes searching. “In…in college, we sort of…yeah.”

“Are either of you out to anyone?”

“I’m not,” Finn sighed. “Well, you two. I don’t think Logan is either.”

“You don’t know?”

“Like I said,” Finn said. “We don’t talk about this stuff.”

Leo nodded slowly. “Well…yeah, then all he’s got is the scary stuff, right? Coming out? Scary. Talking about it from one NHL player to another? Scary as fuck.”

“But you can talk about it.”

Leo smiled, small and endearing. “My family knows.”

Finn stared up at him. “How did you know they’d…”

“I didn’t,” Leo shook his head. “Even when they had the best fucking reaction in the world I still didn’t believe it. But they proved it to me, you know?” Leo glanced at his bracelet, and Finn’s eyes followed. “And suddenly it didn’t matter so much that I would have to hide going into the League. I felt like I could make it happen one day, coming out, even if it isn’t while I’m an eighteen year old rookie,” Leo’s eyes were serious and he squeezed Finn’s hands. “My point is…the people who will be horrible…they’re one sort of demon when you’re alone. It’s a different story when you know, like, sure fucking fact know, that people love you.”

“Lo…” Finn nodded slowly. “Lo doesn’t know?”

Leo shook his head. “Harzy…you don’t know, either.”

“Me?” Finn said. “I—I mean, I…” Finn cleared his throat. “I want to talk about it.”

“And you haven’t been able to,” Leo took a step closer, hand on Finn’s shoulder. “And—you know, I understand if…if you’re just frustrated with Logan and…” Leo took a breath, heart squeezing painfully. “Yeah, like, Harzy, I’m always here to talk to.”

Leo could be an outlet for Finn. He could do that.

Finn looked down at Leo’s hands cradling his. “Logan and I, there are years there. We’ve been skating around each other for…God. Knutty,” Finn looked up at him. “I’ve been in love with Logan for seven fucking years. I thought something was wrong with me when I started…” Finn just looked at Leo, eyes pleading, as if needing him to understand something.

Leo nodded silently, aching. That was history. That was history that had bones, history that had gears that ran one way and one way only. Finn’s it’s complicated kiss to Leo was nothing more than Finn being fed up. Leo didn’t blame him. Everyone needed someone.

“Right,” Leo managed. “Have you told him that? That you love him?”

Finn shook his head. “Not—Fuck, only barely and when we were fighting about it.”

“You need to tell people you want them, Harz, if you want to be with them.”

Finn chewed on his bottom lip. “Yeah, I do. Yeah. You’re right.”

Leo wanted to pull away then. This was exactly what he had always been afraid of, only worse. He didn’t just like a teammate, he liked two teammates who liked each other. Not him.

“Well, maybe while we’re in Florida or something, huh?” Leo tried to laugh and stepped back. He wanted to go inside. He wanted to close the door of his room. He could make an excuse, that he had to pack for the roadie to Florida tomorrow. Maybe cry for a little and then go to sleep. Maybe call his mom, just let it out.

He sighed, thinking about that call. Hi mama, yeah, remember my home and roadie roommates? Well, I really like them. They love each other. I did exactly what I said I wouldn’t do. Doubled. Isn’t that fantastic?

“It’s cold,” Leo rasped out, ducking away from Finn. “We should go inside.”

“Leo—”

“I’ll take our cups in,” Leo snatched the mugs from the railing, before disappearing through the sliding glass door.

Leo dumped them in the skin, hearing Finn walk carefully into the house behind him and close the door. He watched what was left of the dark chocolate seep down the drain for a moment, and then turned around. Finn was staring at him with a funny expression on his face. Leo, with the tears threatening in his throat, couldn’t stick around to figure it out.

“Night, Harz,” he said, and turned away. “Thanks for the stars.”

Leo’s bedroom felt chilly as he closed the door. He sat on his bed and pressed his elbows to his knees.

He had wanted to help his friend. That’s all this had to be. He let out a long breath, cheeks blowing out as his eyes burned. Blinking hurriedly, he picked up his phone. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and found his mom’s contact. He could be quiet. Finn wouldn’t listen, Finn wasn’t nosey like that—

There was a knock on his door and Leo froze, thumb still hovering over the call button, tears in his eyes. He felt seconds away from breaking down, and even the thought of speaking right now made him choke up with tears.

“Um,” his voice wavered and he let out a shaking breath. Fuck. “Just a sec.”

“Nut?” Finn’s voice came through the door.

“Yeah, hold on,” Leo wiped his face with the hem of his sweatshirt and sniffed. He looked at the mirror on his way to the door, but what was he suppose to do about his red eyes? He turned off his overhead light and flicked on his dimmer bedside one instead. He opened the door.

“Hi,” Leo said, and cleared his throat.

Finn walked right in and sat on the edge of his bed. He looked possibly more freaked out than he had before.

“Can you—sit?” Finn asked, looking at him carefully.

Leo wiped a hand over his nose in a way that he hoped wasn’t obvious and sat beside Finn, trying to ignore the way his heart pulled towards him.

“What’s up,” Leo said softly.

Finn didn’t speak for a few moments. He was rubbing his hands against the thighs of his sweatpants, and chewing on his lower lip.

“You said—” he began, and then laced his fingers, looking down at them. “I should tell the person I like, that I like them…”

Leo nodded. He tried to focus on anything but the heat radiating off of Finn through his sweatshirt.

“What if…” Leo heard Finn swallow before continuing. “What if it’s…persons. What if I like…persons?”

A sort of chill ran through Leo’s body, goosebumps raising on his neck. He could have shivered, if not for Finn.

Finn turned towards him. “Knutty.”

Leo didn’t look. He couldn’t look. He kept his eyes on the ground, eyebrows drawing together in attempt to fight off his suddenly growing hopes.

“Leo,” Finn said again, and then his hand was on Leo’s cheek, turning his face towards him. “Leo, do you understand?”

Leo looked at him, barely daring to breathe.

“Is that even allowed?” Finn sucked in a breath. “Is that horrible of me?”

Leo felt shaky. “Me?” he whispered.

Finn nodded hurriedly, hand moving to the back of Leo’s neck. “You.”

“Me and Logan?”

“Yes,” Finn whispered again, and then his hands dropped away. “God, that’s so…fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, what the fuck do I expect you to do with that?”

“Yes,” Leo said. The word felt like it tore from his lungs, and Finn looked up. They stared at each other.

“What?” Finn said.

“I—yes.”

“You mean…Logan? You like Logan?”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh at the question, even if it was choked off. He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes briefly before nodding. He thought of Logan, asleep in the bed beside his on the road, permanent crease between his brows. He thought of his bright smile, rare lately, and the way he leaned into Leo, fitting into his body so easily on nights out when he’d had too much to drink. He thought of that strange, almost kiss, not three nights ago. He thought of watching Logan and Finn, sometimes from afar, sometimes from just across the table. He thought of the confusion that came with being pulled in two directions at the exact same time.

“Yes,” he said. “Fuck, I thought I was just…I felt so stupid. I told myself I wouldn’t get attached to any teammates ever. It would just be too hard. I knew it was hard, I’ve done it, and I never wanted to feel like that again.”

“Nut…” Finn said softly.

“But then you and Logan just show up and…Jesus, Harzy,” Leo shook his head. “What am I suppose to do?”

Finn’s eyes were wide, and then he let out a laugh. “What? Knutty, are you fucking kidding me?”

Leo laughed, too, shaking his head, tears back in his eyes.

“Oh my god, Nut,” Finn breathed, and then he had Leo’s face between his hands. “Oh my god…”

Finn’s kiss was bruising, and Leo held on tight for it, feeling every inch of tension uncoil from his shoulders.

FinnFinnFinnFinnFinn—

And Logan. Logan, hurting and not with them. Leo wanted him there.

“What if he says no?” Finn said suddenly. “Lo always said—he always said he never wanted to hide.”

Finn’s nervousness made Leo jumpy all over again. Now that they’d said it aloud, he ached for them. Both of them.

“You’ve seen him lately,” Finn said. “One second it’s like it has always been and the next…he can’t even look at me.”

“June,” Leo reminded Finn with a raised eyebrow, and Finn groaned, forehead against Leo’s shoulder.

“Fuck me,” Finn sighed. “How do I even begin to explain it to him, he’s going to murder me. In French.”

Leo laughed softly, and then, realizing that he could, wrapped an arm around Finn and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. Finn practically melted into it, and so Leo did it again, this time against his temple, then again on his cheek. Finn made a little noise that Leo swore was going to turn his heart inside out. He laughed as Finn all but burrowed against his chest, basically forcing himself into Leo’s lap. Leo pet a hand through his hair, Finn’s head resting in the crook of one of his elbows, the rest of him splayed the wrong way on the bed, feet by Leo’s pillows.

“Sweetheart,” Leo whispered before he realized, but he’d do it again to see the way Finn practically swooned. Finn reached a hand up, tracing Leo’s jaw lightly.

“I see the way he looks at you,” Finn said softly, fingers brushing Leo’s mouth. “Broke my fucking heart for a while. At least until—until I started looking at you that way, too. Fuck me, I didn’t understand it at all. Who does this? Who wants two people at once?”

Leo raised a shoulder. “We do. Who cares about the rest?”

Finn stared up at him. “We—we can do this? We can be together.”

Leo nodded, smiling. “We can.”

“I just—We need to talk to him.”

“I think you should talk first,” Leo said, leaning into Finn’s touch. “Like you said. You two have a lot of history. That means a lot of conversation. And…that first part doesn’t really involve me.”

Finn chewed on the inside of his cheek. “He could still say no.”

“Well…I know he loves you, and…and I also know he very nearly kissed me the other night.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “Oh, man. Logan is a specialist in almost kissing. Fuck.”

Leo laughed and ducked for a kiss of his own. “I thought it was just you two taking your frustration out on someone else. But…maybe not.”

“Maybe not? Nut, come on.”

“You gotta explain that you don’t have a girlfriend—I’d also like an explanation by the way, like, I really like June, but she also sort of stomped on my heart and dick.”

A sly smile curled at one corner of Finn’s mouth. “Dick, huh?”

Leo looked away, grinning. “You sure are sweet, Harzy. Doesn’t help that I get to see you swinging around the locker room every day while you strut around naked.”

Finn sat up a little, hand curling around the back of Leo’s neck. “Oh yeah? Says the guy with the mile long fucking legs. Nut. Come on. How am I suppose to think away a hard-on while staring at those things?”

Leo snorted. “I thought I was an octopus.”

“You are,” Finn whispered, and then pulled Leo down and kissed him, then laughed into his mouth, letting his head fall back against Leo’s thighs and staring up at him. “Well, this is not what I expected when I brought you hot chocolate.”

“What, you don’t ask someone out every time you bring them a Starbucks or something?”

“Knowing me, you’d think I might,” Finn reached for Leo’s hand, holding it against his chest. “But no, that’s just you.”

“And Logan,” Leo smiled as Finn did. “Maybe you should bring him a coffee, or something.”

“You mean a sickly sweet—whatever he drinks. It’s not fucking coffee, that’s all I know.”

Leo pushed his hand through Finn’s dark red hair. “Harz, I hope this…I really want this.”

Finn closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into Leo’s touch, before he was sitting up suddenly. Leo laughed as Finn pushed him back against the bed, thighs on either side of Leo’s hips. Finn kissed him, hands on his chest, and Leo sunk into it.

“Me too,” Finn mumbled against his mouth. He trailed his mouth down to Leo’s jaw, lips soft. “Imagine if he was here.”

Leo couldn’t help the sigh, breathy and needy, that escaped as he fisted the back of Finn’s sweatshirt.

Finn pressed his hand to the other side of Leo’s neck, rubbing his thumb over the tendon softly. “There’s more of you to be kissed, huh?”

The thought of both Finn and Logan, kissing him, touching him—

He felt Finn laugh into his mouth as he pressed their hips together against Leo’s stiffening cock. “Hi, there.”

Leo groaned. “It’s been like— forever, okay? Forever. Once the NHL was interested I didn’t wanna risk—” Finn pushed down against him then, making Leo’s mouth drop open. “And you’re Finn O’Hara and you’re kissing my neck…”

Finn sucked gently on Leo’s throat. “Maybe we should end that forever.”

Leo let out a laugh that was half moan. Leo could feel Finn getting hard, too, and he was suddenly dizzy with him.

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn sounded a little breathless. “I like you turned on. That’s something I haven’t seen before.”

Leo’s cheeks were hot. “Yeah?”

Finn’s smile was soft. “Hey, kiss me again.”

Leo leaned up and tugged gently on Finn’s bottom lip with his teeth, watching his eyes widen with their noses brushing.

“Leo,” Finn’s voice was high with surprise and pleased sounding, muffled by Leo’s mouth.

Leo kissed him once, then rested his head back on the bed. “I…do you…” he glanced down at their hips where he could see the outlines of their cocks against their sweatpants.

Finn, poised on top of Leo, swallowed. “I’ve never…I mean, twice with Lo, but it was always—you know. Hands only. Kissing. Either we didn’t talk about it, or…I left for Gryffindor after the second time. It was,” Finn looked down at his hands, pressing a little on Leo’s chest. “I don’t know, we never even really took our clothes off and we were both sort of crying…”

Leo pressed up onto his elbows. “Finn…”

“I want to,” Finn said, looking at Leo with a small smile. “I want us to show him that it doesn’t have to be rushed and—silent.” Finn licked his lips, holding the one that had been between Leo’s teeth in his mouth for a moment, and then leaned forward, pushing Leo back down again and planting his hands on either side of his head. “Show me.”

A shiver went up Leo’s spine. He nodded, running his hands up and under Finn’s sweatshirt, palms smooth over the warm skin of his back.

“I am sort of half off the bed here,” Leo smiled.

“Huh?” Finn glanced behind him, at Leo’s legs still over the bed from when they had been sitting side by side. “Oh shit.”

Finn snorted as he scrambled up, landing with his back against Leo’s pillows. Leo stood, and looked. Finn’s mouth was kissed red, his hair was a mess. He would have looked sweet, if not for the fact that Leo could see his cock, tenting his sweatpants obscenely between his splayed thighs.

“Fuck, Harzy,” Leo said, rubbing a hand through his hair, pressing it over his hot neck.

“Can I…” Finn plucked at his sweatshirt.

“Let me,” Leo said, kneeling on the bed and walking himself slowly over and between Finn’s thighs. He sat back on his heels, coaxing Finn into a sitting position to. He leaned in and kissed him slowly.

“We have all night,” Leo reminded him softly, and then pulled away to lift Finn’s sweatshirt above his head. He had a gray Lions t-shirt underneath, and Leo bent to kiss what skin of Finn’s neck the sweatshirt had revealed, just above his collar, before pulling the t-shirt over his head, too.

Finn made a questioning noise, his hands on the hem of Leo’s sweatshirt.

“Yeah,” Leo said.

Finn pulled his lip between his teeth again. Leo’s t-shirt came with his sweatshirt, getting stuck for a moment and making them laugh, before they were both staring at each other, bare chested.

“You’re too tall like this,” Finn smiled, hands finding Leo’s bare waist and tugging. “Come closer.”

Leo eased Finn back against the pillows, balancing himself over him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the center of Finn’s chest, letting his lips drag, and pressing another one over his sternum. He glanced up. “Better?”

Finn nodded hurriedly, hand going to Leo’s hair. “Better.”

Leo kissed his way down Finn’s chest, feeling it rise and fall quicker as he went. He kissed the strong flex of his abs, the light dips between his ribs, and finally, his hips, just above the band of his sweatpants. Leo looked back up at Finn and raised his eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m, oh fuck,” Finn was flushed down to his chest. “I might come in like—point two seconds, okay?”

“Be my guest,” Leo said, and began to tug Finn’s sweatpants down—no underwear. “Fuck, Harz.”

“I was being relaxed.”

Finn’s cock bobbed free, the head swollen and leaking. The sight made Leo’s throb. He let out a breath, and so did Finn.

Leo reached out and smoothed his hand around the base, watching Finn’s hips stutter at the almost contact. Finally, Leo wrapped his hand around him, and gave a single, dry, pull.

Finn groaned softly from the head of the bed. “Fuck, baby.”

Leo’s eyes snapped to him, but Finn didn’t look surprised or embarrassed. His mouth was dropped open and he held out his arms. Leo went willingly, surging up to kiss him hard while Finn yanked at Leo’s sweatpants and underwear, shoving it down his legs far enough to kick them off.

Then, it was just them. Their cocks pressed together and Finn’s eyes practically rolled. Leo bent to suck a bruise into the tender skin below his ear as he rutted down against Finn, spurred on by the feeling of Finn’s blunt nails digging against his back.

“Yes,” Finn’s voice punched out of him and Leo felt his heels on the back of his thighs.

“What do you want?” Leo asked, breathless. He pulled back some and kissed Finn. “We can do whatever you want.”

“This,” Finn said against Leo’s cheek, mouth falling open again and hand tightening in his hair. “I want this.”

“C’mere,” Leo said, and pulled at Finn’s hip.

“What, you’re tired?” Even turned on as all hell, Finn managed to joke.

Leo only got them onto their sides, legs tangled, before Finn was pressing them together again and moaning. It was all Leo could do to think clearly.

“You said to show you,” Leo panted. “I’m showing you that we have all night. That we can do whatever we want, that you have me—”

Finn pressed against him, cocks wet together, with a gasp.

“I’m going to come,” Finn whispered, voice shaking as he gripped Leo’s ass to press them together harder. It Leo groan as his hand slipped close to his entrance. Finn blinked at him, eyes dazed and bright.

“You—do you like—”

Leo nodded.

“Jesus.”

Leo pressed a lingering kiss to Finn’s mouth. “Would you do that for me, Harzy?”

Finn’s hips stuttered, eyes squeezing shut and he came between them with a cry, stripping Leo’s chest thickly.

The sight, Finn’s sloppy kiss, and his hand brushing over his crease, had Leo following. Leo reached between them and closed a hand around them both, working them through their orgasms. He swore Finn’s nails would leave marks tomorrow. He felt Finn’s hand press against his lower back, and had a sudden thought of a broader heat there—Logan. Logan’s deep voice in his ear, pressed all along his back, maybe even slipping inside of him—

Leo’s hips twitched as his cock valiantly spurt out nothing, pleasure wracking him all the same.

Finn was breathing hard, eyes closed and head fallen back against Leo’s arm on the pillows. Leo smoothed a hand up his chest, uncaring of the mess, and leaned over him, limbs heavy, to kiss his bared throat.

This was what Finn never had. This is what he and Logan never thought they could have. The very best part. Being together, sated and loving and close. Leo caressed his hip, and his strong shoulder, lips gentle all the while. He did it until Finn’s breathing slowly began to even out, until a tear appeared at the corner of his eye, and trailed slowly down his temple.

Leo kissed that, too.

“‘M—” Finn began, and his voice cracked. “Just relieved,” he rasped out. “Just, so…” he let out a breath, and opened his eyes, glassy and golden brown. “Leo.”

“I know,” Leo said, nodding quickly. “Believe me, I know.”

“I loved that,” A sleepy, almost loopy smile crossed Finn’s face and he laughed, another tear appearing. “Fucking Christ.”

Leo laughed, nudging his forehead into the warm space of Finn’s neck and closing his eyes. “Me too.”

He felt Finn’s arms wrap around him, squeezing tightly like Leo saw him sometimes do to other players during a celly on the ice.

“Can we snuggle?” Finn asked sleepily.

“We better,” Leo kicked the blankets out from beneath them, Finn reached for his sweatshirt, mopping their chests before throwing it away into the room. They stayed like that, Finn on his back, Leo nestled against him, ankles tangled.

When they woke up the next morning, Leo was still in Finn’s arms, his back to Finn’s chest, and Finn was kissing his neck.

“Two things on the to do list,” Finn whispered against his skin once Leo had hummed happily and pressed against him. “Get you some stars…”

Leo laughed and Finn’s arms tightened around him.

“And knock some sense into Tremzy.”

Leo smiled, looking at the empty space in front of him. They were leaving for Florida today. Leo could wait to see Finn and Logan in the sunlight.

#coast to coast #sweater weather #sweater weather spin off #lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #lumosinlove oc #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finn o'hara #O'Knutzy #finn x logan x leo

[bloodys44]

Silence and Cigarette Smoke

Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

Ive almost finished writing chapter 10!! You can read ahead to chapter 9 on FF.net if your interested :) 

Chapter 7: The Dragons Return

790

Natsu hated trains. He'd hated them for as long as he could remember and would probably continue his vendetta until he was dead and cold. The particular train he was on counted as no exception. The constant sway and jostle of the cars made a mockery of his intestines and the over-crowded compartments felt smothering, clouding his senses and leaving him feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. Not to mention the absolute fiasco he'd gone through to board the damn thing in the first place. Royal security had practically quadrupled over the past year, leaving public vicinities like train stations (Or even the streets for that matter.) ground zero for mage hunting. As of late, there had been a generally adopted travelling protocol for the enchanted, one that Erza had not to kindly drilled into his head. Usually, it involved studying shift changes and positioning of officers, and most almost always included a heavily inflated bill for "proper identification" that his extremely shallow pockets couldn't even fathom. The current time allowance for this trip was nerve-wrackingly unclear, but he knew for certain he didn't have time to waste tracking foot paces of soldier dogs. He also knew he didn't have time for the slight delay the train was currently experiencing, and if that wasn't enough to irritate his already foul mood, the announcement of a passenger registration check certainly was. Of course, the one time he went against the spit-fire warrior's regulations it would come back to bit him in the ass. Typical.

The man seated across the compartment from him was clearly under the same stressors, as he'd transformed from a rather shady looking character to an absolute manic fiend at the simple announcement chime. Stark grey irises darting around in a desperate search for escape. There wasn't any, that, Natsu had already assessed. Unless you wanted to fling yourself off a moving train, your options were to wait until the train staff asked for your non-existent identification or pray to all things holy that today was your luckiest day on earth. Neither of which Natsu was keen on, but he was banking on the latter. The man (Who Natsu assumed went by Dan Straight, as identified by the printed tag hanging from his luggage handle. A complete rookie mistake for an un-registered that he probably would have judged if not for being trapped in the same situation.) began to shake violently as the initial shock dulled, raising his twitching fingers to kneed at his face in a disturbing manner. When he noticed the fire mage staring the whites of his eyes stretched to his brows and Natsu could practically see the connection through Dan's gaze as he realized they were one and the same.

"You have to help me." He whispered pleadingly from across the aisle, leaning to wrap his bruised fingers around the upholstered armrest. His hood had fallen back slightly to reveal matted brown locks and a forehead creased with worry. Black lines were smeared down the outer corner of his eyes as if he had attempted to expand the shape or had previously spent multiple hours crying while wearing black liner. Dan seemed strange enough for both.

Natsu shook his head slowly and gestured for the man to shut the fuck up. The last thing he needed was for a scene to be caused before meeting the seemingly inevitable guillotine. "Please," Dan tried again, ignoring the warning and raising his volume steadily. "They'll really kill me this time!" He lunged forward, grasping onto the dragon slayer's arm and flailed dramatically. "You can't just leave me to die!" People were starting to look now, passengers straining their necks for a view of the wild man spouting a tale of murder.

"Get off of me." Natsu hissed, ripping his forearm away. Dan's nails were unkept and jagged, leaving clear stripes of red across his tan skin. This, he considered to be very minuscule when compared to the train staff whose outlines were becoming visible through the small compartment-door window. "You're going to get us both killed." He sprang forward again, folding himself around Natsu's leg like a toddler in full tantrum. A mantra spilling from his chapped lips that he had money to pay and valuable rewards to gift if his life was saved. Though, based strictly on his appearance, he didn't look to have a penny to his name. Not that it mattered anyway. The compartment door rattled unmistakably as it slid open, revealing two tired-looking service staff followed by the fantastic addition of not one, but four armed (Not that he'd ever seen one without.) royal guards. They were quick to notice the commotion, hightailing it to the back of the cabin, which Natsu could only assess as not great.

Dan screeched like a frightened cat, flinging himself backwards until he was pressed against the wall, hands spread and knees shaking. "This crazy mage attacked me!" He stammered through his chattering teeth, his words fuelling the blind panic Natsu was currently running on. Honestly, this couldn't be a worse morning, and it wasn't even dawn yet. His excuses continued pooling around his feet, his voice cracking with pressure and flipping tones. The expression cemented on the officer's faces only confirming they were less than impressed.

A proper-looking woman with hair that reminded him of tangerines stood wearily from a few seats away, her eye's delicate as she scanned the dragon-slayer fondly before teetering over to one of the steel-plated officers. With a swift finger, she tapped his silver breastplate and confessed what she had really seen happen in a brief manner. The officer, a stout-looking man that seemed like he'd rather be anywhere else, thanked the woman curtly before moving forward to front Natsu. The royal dog's beady eyes tore over him, pausing momentarily on his bloody arm that was beginning to stain his overcoat and Natsu prayed to everything he didn't believe in that his body wouldn't flinch under the scrutiny. He prepared for the worst, attempting to clear his mind in case he had to fly into action with a second's notice. Instead, he was awarded a subtle nod in which he could barely return as he stood there in utter confusion. The guard completely disregarded him, turning in favour of a squirming Dan who whined on def ears about his innocence. The enforcement swarmed him, blocking him into a corner and demanding proof of ticket and identification. The wild mage spurred in fear, his body taking on a morbid glow as he lurched for the underside of his seat where a dented shield had been notably stored away. However, uncharacteristically the stout man moved faster, drawing his blade at the first sign of Dan's unnatural glow and thrust it forward in a well-timed step, completely shredding the terrified man's throat and leaving him to drop lifelessly to the panelled floor with nothing but a suffocated whimper. The guards seemed unfazed, moving without hesitation to clear the body, and the unnaturally calm statement the stout officer provided the rest of the passengers did little if anything to soothe their alarmed demeanour. Though, one after the other, they regained their composure, seating themselves to whisper of bravery and justice. Words that turned Natsu's stomach worse than any train had ever achieved, hoping to never understand how people could so easily overlook needless death.

"You alright son?" The same officer questioned, refocusing his attention back on the fire mage. "You got a little roughed up there."

"S'fine." Natsu forced out, disregarding that he most certainly did not feel fine. He was presented with a pitied look and clearly rehearsed monologue about protecting the people of Fiore, explaining further that a medic office would be just to the left of the terminal once they reached the station, and that he'd be happy to accompany if need be. Attempting to come across thankful, Natsu declined, throwing in a strong smirk to sweeten the deal. With a polite smile, the man left him be, exiting the front of the cabin in which he'd arrived. It took a fair moment for the dragon-slayer to re-compose himself enough to reclaim his seat, and another before he realized they hadn't even asked him for identification. He wanted to feel relieved, but the atmosphere in the compartment felt far too "normal" as if everyone was ignorant of the body being flung from the back of the train in complete disregard. Blind to the blood splattered across the floorboards, the walls, luggage... everything. Including Natsu's face, as he finally came to notice while streaking a hand across it, smearing it. For the remainder of the trip, he sat silently, swaying with slight nausea, drenched in the sent of Dan's blood. A slightly mocking tone repeating "Welcome home." against his skull.

Obviously, Natsu decided against his suggested medical advice, his movements swift and ignored as he swept through the exiting crowd with intentions on the station's exit. Magnolia was just as he'd left it, the air thick with morning baking, encased in a freshness only the area could provide. Cobblestone streets laid as they were in his mind, every corner memorized, every structure noted. And Nostalgia? She was a bitch, to say the very least; Slamming into his chest with no regard for his current mental state. To say he missed this place would be a rather gross understatement, the pull to return stiched to his every skin fibre. He shouldn't have left, but he'd known that from the start. Although, back then, he hadn't known how to stay. He'd forgotten how to look people in the eye. He'd forgotten how to look at her... And only the stars knew how franticly he was trying to remember. He wasn't ready to go back, and as he approached the most familiar clearing in his life, he wished profusely that he had more time.

Apparently, he'd also forgot about the cat hidden away in his bag, which was rather startling in itself considering he was bright blue and talked. Happy's questioning mew of his name propelling him a good foot into the air with freight. He was again thankful that he hadn't been forced to fight for his life back on the train, as he seemed well out of it today.

"Is it safe for me?" His animal friend tested, poking his ears from under the leather bag flap. "It sounded scary earlier."

"Ya, it was," Natsu mumbled, exhaling a heavy breath and removing his pack to unhinge the cover. "But it's okay now, you can come out. Nobody will see you here." Happy practically pounced on him, scurrying up his arm to perch on his shoulder. His little cat eyes growing twice their usual size as he took in the environment.

"This place still smells like Lucy." Happy announced giddily, taking a prolonged sniff of the air. "Do you think she still reads out here?"

The dragon slayer grunted, feeling a wave of guilt crash over him at the sound of her name. "I dunno, maybe." Her scent was old, stale by a few days at least, but still prominent enough to notice. A gentle musk sweeter than honey embedded into tree bark and dusted over every rocky surface. He'd done his best to avoid thinking about her during his journey home, but now, surrounded by her hazed scent he stood no chance. She was plastered to the forefront of his mind like gel adhesive, mutilating his already dishevelled brain. She alone wasn't his only anxiety regarding coming home, but yes, she was undoubtedly most of it. The night he'd left had been awful. He'd fucked up, after a series of fuck ups, and she let him know just that. She screamed at him like she'd never done, cheeks flushed and every hurtful thought she'd ever had spilling from her quaking lip. He hadn't gone to her room with the intention of kissing her and had honestly been just as surprised as her. God, she'd just looked so... Etherial? Golden hair tossed with sleep, but her lux eyes wired. Her exterior, porcelain skin draped casually in one of his old button-downs, moonlight banking off the plane of her exposed chest betrayed her grit and leaving her appearance vulnerable, fragile. Natsu wasn't dumb, he knew she was beautiful. Lucy was always beautiful, even a blind man could see that. But to describe what he witnessed then, with beautiful? It would be an insult. At that moment, even after months of ungracefully avoiding her, he'd never felt closer to her. Of course, she'd reacted negatively, because what sane person wouldn't after the way he'd been treating her. He saw how much it bothered her when he disappeared for hours or left on missions without her. And then, he'd gone and left her for a little over a year. To be fair, he had meant to tell her about this absence, but clearly, he'd gotten distracted. Not that he'd ever known himself to think clearly about anything regarding the blonde. She was his only thought pre-departure, which troubled him greatly for his childhood best friend had just passed and his sole focus had shifted from grief to a crush he didn't know how to approach.

"Natsu? I think this is for you..." Happy whispered from the edge of the clearing, completely jolting his thought process. He hadn't noticed the cat surrender his shoulder in favour of exploring and began to get rather irritated over how spaced out he was acting. Happy sat curled in on himself, eye's wired to a newly placed stone. Edges sanded by hand and base painted with intricate flames. Red melting with gold in thick layers over the smoothed surface.

I miss you.

And god, if he thought he'd been experiencing guilt before, it couldn't compare to the emptiness that was devouring him. The ground had been turned more recently in front of the headstone, showing she'd actually dug a metaphorical resting place for him just as he'd done for Lissana. "I thought you told her we were leaving for a bit, Natsu?"

"I meant too..." He mumbled sheepishly. "I kinda mixed thing's up the night we left."

His blue friend turned, ears drawn forward in sorrow, "Did we make her sad?"

Natsu stepped back slightly, eyeing the gravestone for everything it was worth before scooping his cat to nestle in his arms. "I hope not." He offered, knowing his words held no power. Did she really think he was dead? It was true he hadn't made any effort to contact her, or anyone from the guild for that matter, but to label him deceased felt so final. Had everyone collectively agreed he wasn't worth waiting around for? His hands shook and he cursed himself for how anxious he'd become over a situation he alone had created. Would she be relieved he was alive? Shaking his head and stepping forward with a heavy exhale, he continued towards the castle base. Attempting to put Makarov at the forefront of his priority list.

The hour was still young, the morning rays scarcely coasting over the hilled landscape as he entered FairyTail's grand hall, and almost immediately regretted his choice in entrance. He'd become accustomed to Sabertooth's relaxed mornings over the year, a certain fair-haired woman that liked an early start on breakfast slipping his mind. But the morning hues leaking from the stained glass illuminated her too brightly to ignore. Mira stood just past the swaying kitchen doors, a crate of fruit wedged between her delicate arms and an expression of pure disbelief painted over her rosy face. Breath caught in her throat like she'd just been thrown to the ground and fingers twitching under the weight of her supplies. Though a year had barely passed, she looked older, eye's more slated and dull than when he had last seen her. Natsu tried to summon up a greeting but his voice cracked with anxious pressure, startling Mira and causing her to drop the wooden box in favour of rubbing her rapidly blinking eyes.

"You alright Mira?" Laxus's strong tone carried from the kitchen, voice thick with concern over the box clattering against the stone floor. The fire-mage begrudgingly tore his eyes away from the woman at his front to focus on the doors behind her, which opened right on cue. The burly lightning manipulator barreling through to assess the situation before coming to a halt beside his wife. "Oh shit," Was all he offered but it seemed to be enough confirmation for Mira to realize that she wasn't hallucinating. Tears began streaming over her flushed cheeks, lip caught between her teeth, shivering under the ferocity of her sob. A whole new level of panic overtook Natsu, as he'd never been directly exposed to her crying, and when she sprang towards him he couldn't help but take a step back. He expected a smothering hug of one form or another but instead was greeted by the shocking sting of her palm connecting with his jaw. The slap echoing off the aged walls like a church sonnet to mock him further. She'd never been violent towards him, and it took him completely off guard. When she began to wind up for another swing he did nothing, merely closing his eyes to wait out her justified anger. The hit never came, her soft fingers only tracing over the smear of Dan's blood across his cheek.

"It's not mine." He attempted to justify, brushing her hand away. But the pain dancing with her irises darkened, another sob controlling her frame until she curled in on herself. Slender fingers toying with the hem of her burgundy gown.

"Where have you been... Natsu?" Her soft voice wavered. "No reports, no lacrima calls, not even a letter. Where did you go?"

He ran a hand through his roused hair, guilt overtaking his movements. "I was with Sabertooth," He started, choosing his words carefully. "Spying on the Royal court with Erza." He felt it important not to give too much away, not to spook her more than needed.

"Are you back to stay?" She pressed rather coldly, taking a step back. Her eyes, soppy and blurred remained trained on him, scouting his movements like she was unsure of his intentions. Her pale hand was begging to redden, bruising after such a long hiatus from fieldwork. She placed it delicately over the swell of her stomach. The gesture baffled him further as he'd yet to notice the very obvious child growing within her. His composure relaxed noticeably, Mira's stern gaze growing softer.

"Ya, I think so Mira." He huffed through rushed breaths. Attention focused closely on the woman's stomach. He gave her a moment to smile before asking how far along she was, shuddering at Laxus's proud reply of 6 months. Natsu tried not to dwell over the moments he'd missed, instead, congratulating the couple on their new addition. He attempted to keep his face as plain as he could while explaining he needed to find the Master quickly. Mira looked rather disappointed but with the promise he would return to 'catch up', she directed him towards Mocorav's tower.

Natsu needed a cigarette; This he decided while trying to steady his trembling fingers, pressing them into the hem of his black cargo pants. The guild, still quiet with sleep swallowing his confidence with every step. Happy had disappeared some time ago in favour of finding Wendy and Carla, preferring his other feline friend overpacking. His mind was still reeling, all new information for the day seemed accompanied with a grain of salt. Mira would make a good mother, that he knew for sure, but it made him feel all the more uneasy with the news he had come to deliver. The Royal Calvary was coming, marching as he did now. They knew Fairy Tails location, or so one of Jellal's many informants had claimed. The rumour could be false, but the chance was far too great with so many lives on the line. He had no idea how far along the military group had travelled, Jellal estimating they had a few days at most.

Master Makarov was awake, much to Natsu's surprise; The man tending to sleep longer as he aged. His disciplined face never faulting as he listened to the dragon slayers grim tones.

"Who all knows about this?" He replied simply.

Natsu eyed the man slowly, leaning against the stone-framed fireplace with crossed arms. "Erza," he stated, "Sting and Rouge too, maybe a few trusted others from Sabertooth. They've gone to set up a camp near their hall. Erza said you would know the spot." Just as he'd done with Mira, he chose his words carefully. Jellal's name purposely dropped from the tale as affiliation with him typically was for the worse. Natsu wouldn't go as far as saying he trusted the guy, but Erza did, and that was enough for him.

"Alright, I want to do this quickly and quietly, the less panic that occurs the better," Makarov grumbled, lifting himself from his desk chair. "I'll speak with Laxus, we'll spread the word that we're changing locations over breakfast. We can depart tomorrow's sunrise."

Natsu nodded, rolling out his shoulders and releasing a shaky breath. "Do you know where Lucy is?" He mumbled, "I can't smell her, I want to let her know what's going on."

Makarov looked towards him with a face of discomfort, before turning to favour his hanging overcoat. "She's away with work, due back two days ago I believe."

Natsu shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to calm the shake he had just accomplished in steadying a few minutes prior. Eyes involuntarily darting in search of exit points as his anxiety grew. The stress level for today had been climbing steadily since he'd first opened his eyes, and stressing about Lucy, in particular, had always done awful things to him. "Maybe you could go pack her things for her since you used to be so close and all." The older man finished, placing his coat over himself. Natsu nodded again, spinning on his heel abruptly in the direction of the dorms.

At least five minutes passed while Natsu stood outside her door. The golden door plate embedded with scrolled characters stopping him in his tracks. Lucy. He hadn't seen her in so long yet he could worry about her like it was yesterday. Was she hurt? Had she run into the royal guard while travelling home? Maybe a similar train situation had occurred like this morning. He knew he had no place to worry about her, not after leaving her for so long. But he couldn't help himself, her scent wafting through the oak door propelling images of her in his mind. Lucy was a strong woman, she could typically handle herself, but the thought of the last time he'd seen her in action left a bad taste in his mouth.

He tried to distract himself, fumbling around to light a cigarette in the dim hue of the hall. The exhale felt exquisite, the craving burns finally satisfied. Nicotine supplementing enough confidence for him to open her door. Though he immediately regretted entering, nostalgia once again stealing his breath. Her room was kept tidy, windows sealed and curtains drawn. All her books and personal items stashed away from eyesight. No pictures or tapestry's hung from her wall as they did in Mira's room, and her bed wasn't over-occupied with plush toys as Lissanas had once been. Lucy claimed she didn't like clutter, that it made her feel disorganized. Natsu however, suspected the blonde had trouble claiming a space for her own after so many years on the run. This had never bothered him as he always assumed she would out-grow the habit the more comfortable with the guild she became. But looking upon her empty walls he felt just as such. It turned out, her fear of never settling was still very real. All Natsu had ever given her was another home to run from.

With a deep exhale, Natsu tried to focus on his task, least he continue staring at the bed Lucy very obviously hadn't been sleeping in pre-departure. Her sheets folded neatly at the head of her exposed mattress, pillow's lacking their cases, tucked just off to the side. Her scent on the fabric nearly faded compared to some of her more recently worn clothing. He didn't want to think about who's bed she'd been spending her nights in, nor who she deemed worthy of her days. With a hearty grown he faced the closet, grabbing what he figured to be essential attire. Skipping over some of her more scandalous sets in the hope she wouldn't be too sour considering the circumstances. Except for the little red skirt he used to love, for no reason in particular, of course. He tried his best to pack her leather-bound trunk the way she would, mimicking her structure for their many travels. With her room and ensuite cleared, Natsu departed in favour of his own dwelling. The thought of Lucy's old feather-downs tracing his mind. She used to store them at the back of his closet, at least, before he left. And with the lurking uncertainty of when their guild would find a new base, he didn't want her to freeze through the colder months.

Spinning the metal nob of his door, Natsu wasn't sure what he'd been expecting come his return home, but the state of his room took him completely aback. Drawers he'd left in ruin sat repositioned on their sliders, abandoned clothes hung clean and pressed in his wardrobe and his forgotten cigarettes lay positioned neatly on his desk. But what shook him the most, was the smell. Lucy's scent, stronger than her own room; Cascading over his walls to lather his belongings, invading his every pore. His old sheets recently washed, made up his bed. The bed that too clearly showed where his missing blonde had been sleeping. Curled up in his blankets, wearing his button-downs below the covers. He could do nothing but collapse atop the same frame, chest heavy and heaving. Eye's casting to the back of his wardrobe where Lucy's garments no longer hung. He really had been gone too long.

Natsu remained motionless until Mira knocked on his door to announce breakfast with the expectation of a yes and a prompt follow. She requested he help serve the food, noting that everyone would be excited to see his face. Begrudgingly he agreed, stopping only to let Mira scrub the remnants of Dan from his cheek. He hadn't known the man, but watching his porcelain basin cast crimson as she rang her cloth turned his insides in a way they hadn't spun since leaving.

He tried his best to sport a cheerful grin towards his guildmate's calls of greeting and question, faltering only twice while serving everyone. The first had been on account of Levy's expression, a mix of sadness and relief painted over her features. The only words from her lips questioning if Lucy had heard from him yet. She didn't hide her disappointment when he shook his head, but chose not to question him further which he was grateful for. The second was when Juvia entered the hall looking nothing of herself. Sunken cheeks and bruised eyelids, a mangled frame stepping where her body used to reside. He tried to collect himself before she noticed his quizzical stare but stood blank when she threw him a week smile. She sauntered towards him, wooden cane pressed tightly in her grip. She asked him about his trip, stumbling over her words like her mind couldn't focus on a single sentence. He answered the best her could without giving too much away, knowing everyone would be updated shortly.

The morning wasted away rapidly, Natsu finding himself absorbed in the rain woman's story's of times he had missed. Apparently, she had been poisoned while out working with Gray, a virus that riddled away at her body and mind for months. He knew the situation didn't involve him, but he couldn't help the guilt soak through his pores, a feeling he was gathering was here to linger for a while to come. He should have been there for his friends, especially Gray who he'd known long enough to guess he was coping poorly. He tried to express his sympathy but Juvia practically snorted, claiming she didn't need his pity and that she was recovering fine. She didn't recoil tho, jumping straight into another story about helping Mira plan her nursery.

It was calming to hear her speak, a conversation that didn't revolve around planning for survival. It felt normal, to sit in the dining hall talking of paint colours and stuffed animals. Watching Juvia smile with ignorance of how her skin stretched over her sunken features. Listening to the dull clatter of dishware mixing with hearty laughter; his guildmates enjoying their morning coffee and bread. He longed to fall into the warmth of familiar scenery, curl up atop a wooden table with the voices of his friends streaming through his ears. Life, however, was unfair as he'd grown to learn. A lesson that had prepared him not to panic when these moments slipped away quickly. Thus, he tried to remain stoic when the hall's grand doors were thrown open, startling gasps replacing the casual chimes of the interior.

There Gray stood, alive and breathing; face awash with pure anxiety and pain. He looked rugged, blood matted through his hair like he'd been crawling through trenches. Shirt tossed aside leaving his chest exposed, a clean blade stripe painted over his torso. "We've been found!" He screeched, waving his bruised arms above his head. "Everybody, please! We need to leave!" Nobody moved, for a moment, the tone of begging so foreign on the Ice mage's tongue stunning the crowd.

Natsu's brain fell into full flight mode, straightening his spine and propelling him forward. He was about to call out, urging everyone to head Grays words and fucking move, but he too remained frozen; a woman peering over his dear friend's shoulder catching his full attention.

She looked worried, a wrinkle creasing her smooth forehead as she scrunched her brows. Her hair was longer, golden tresses framing her waist with soft curls. Brown eyes glazed with honey soaking up her surroundings before stopping over him, drinking him in for all he was worth. Her expression dissolved, masking her delicate features with a look of horror. Plump lips coiling to pronounce his name. Her voice was all he could make out over the commotion. Lucy was back, commanding his full attention like the world wasn't about to crumble around them.

Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

#Nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #natsu #natsu dragneel #lucy #lucy heartfilia #fan fiction #fanfic #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairytail #erza #happy #sting eucliffe #dan

[furymint]

All Prompts

#02: Sway

#03: Muster

#06: Bonus

#08: Clamor

#09: Lush

#12:  Tooth & Nail

#15: Ache

#16: Lucubration

#20: Bonus

#22: Argy-Bargy

#24: Beam

Header  | Reflection of some of my favorite peers’ prompts under the cut!

@aethernoise​ -- #11: Ultracrepidarian

tired curses!!!! i also really love this contrast in their work..... its rly cute. alyx just saved the world and aymeric is hating the dictionary. i like how rough his narration is and then alyx calls and everything speeds up, and i especially love him staring into the empty room. it put another contrast between their circumstances, but its also rly damn accurate abt how it feels to share a moment over the phone w someone. it made me smile a lot

@ahlis-xiv​ -- #23: Shuffle

this one made me laugh ksjdf ahlis’ distaste for the saucer despite being drawn to it is hysterical, but it also mirrors a lot of her character flaws: avoiding vulnerability, placing stoicism before genuineness, planting her frustration on external things instead of herself. even confronting her own feelings draws some curses out of her, and i love that display of her personality.

@autochthonousone -- #09: Nonagenarian

i love me some reflection and mentorship. also im obsessed with “let ‘lone this ‘n”.........dialect is such a hit or miss thing when writing or reading, but god youve got it and i love that line so much. barry’s relationship w stalwart is even better tho, and i cant repeat enough how much i love their dynamic of fair/stern/wise and distant/brutish/actually-paying-complete attention.

@brave-horizon -- #12: Tooth & Nail

talk abt using the setting..............i rly struggle w incorporating setting so this was a little mind-blowing to me. we got a really cool action scene plus established an entire town and conflict all at once?? battle scenes are hard. but ur vocab is so precise and stuff like “seized midstride” and “spilling its pilot” are rly inspiring me rn!! wind magic is smth ive brainstormed in the past but u have such good ideas w it and im so pumped just rereading it. its so good

@erstwhile25 -- #05: Matter of Fact

oh my god. some kind of dialogue god comes down and hands kail all his words, or else he’s just the dialogue god himself. im leaning towards the latter. i wish to god i could say “very small dogs with the barest streaks of sanity” in daily life, and honestly i might start to. the crew of the rook are always a joy to see + the development of their conversation takes such a meaningful turn that it really sticks after the laughs

@endangered-liaison​ -- #05: Matter of Fact 

sorry not sorry jaejh is cool!!!! he’s super nasty and terrible and interesting and i loved his voice, but i esp love how well he pushed the conflict and just Ruined Everything. i rly live how his influence bleeds into the others through their fear. The kids go from hoping or expecting to smth better, to not even debating that he’s lying bc it will just turn out worse. the berry stains as a gun on the wall never struck me either, and i was SHOOK

@high-and-away -- #10: Avail

honestly this was the hardest one to pic a fav for. i rly loved so many of these bc they check a lot of boxes for my Brand. this one sits the longest with active conflict + does a fantastic job staying clear despite all the trails it picks up w max’s foil n comradeship, the chocobo’s higher level of pity over people, the chaotic pack of Resistance members, and the highlander that vicky reasons over n kills. i love that word “limning” now; ur vocab always finds ways to surprise me w the way u use them (esp in describing settings)

@holyja -- #03: Muster

usually when i think of lizzy writing, i think of how perfect ur verbs are, but this time i really liked the visuals and tone. hyana pushing food around her plate and sitting on the rooftops had such a lonely feel to them, but at the same time were rly enjoyable and clear imgs despite not having to be described forever. serella’s dialogue was perfectly on-the-nose, too. usually i rly linger on what is given too much detail, but this rly showed me how nice it is to air things out n leave the thought monologue unsaid.

@karoiseka --  #24: Beam

hell yeah memory lane time. i loved seeing CT from karo’s pov and seeing where her priorities lay or moved. i also liked the life u gave to the little parts left untouched by the narrative, like walking through CT and the heartbeat in the soul vessel. idk what could be more satisfying that a reunion either, so following karo into the ocular was some Good Shit

@mythrilreflections -- #15: Ache

does this get bonus points just for being in o’ghomoro? yes. i love how the tunnels are characterized by the senseless kobolds in them. the added pressure from their reasonings for being in this hellhole is even better, and i love the sigils concept. jace’s narration is so cold, too, which makes both the kobold’s ferocity and the team’s desperation more poignant: he doesn’t sound the type to exaggerate.

@norhimorovine -- #14: Part

this one just screams fairy tale to me. the others do too, but the repetition of events rly knocks this one up the flagpole of ‘belongs in some mid 19th century kids story collection.’ i LOVE the sisters’ banter, and how the younger daughter gets incorporated a bit further for her attention. having the soldier take little pieces of each environment to prove they were real made them a lot more real to me, too.

@snowbird-down -- #03 Muster

if u think im NOT gonna lose my mind shrieking over stream of consciousness as one of the #1 ways of writing trauma, u have not been around me for very long. the varying sentence length is rly successful here, and i esp love the part where people are rushing into the ship and she has to stab a dude to keep him from coming aboard. it’s such a back and forth determining who is humanity and who is the faceless antagonist for a minute, n ofc i love that.

@stars-bleed-hearts-shine​ -- #28 -- Irenic

i was p surprised that my fav of urs came so late, but i feel like this piece has a lot of what your really good at, and which i admire a lot: you aren’t afraid of emotional dialogue or arguments based in more than factual debate, and you capitalize on casual thoughts that reveal a lot more than they do at face value. i esp like that you rly make the most of two characters that overlap in values and personality so often--they acknowledge that overlap and work together with what they share.

@yunkinko​ -- #05 Matter of Fact

im gonna forget abt that little rat line bc the last line is a kick in the teeth. i always admire ur ability to expand tiny details into lasting events. x’arhll’s musings also cut so different from the rest of the scene, separating her from the others and mhifa even further from her, so i love that contrast. the “arc of water” stayed with me for a while too.

#IM SORRY IF I DIDNT GET TO EVERYONE #i got a lotta exhausted after this #n i love rereading and catching up on things sm #ty sm for sharing ur writing everyone!! #n grats to everyone who wrote smth #i think my fav of mine is lush! #i like a lot of the War Feelings i got to do w nol tho #i wrote i lot less this year than last year #bc work and 2020 #so im a little :/// abt that #since last year i did a lot of good work that i like to reread #brianna babbles #ffxivwrite2020

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt5

Warnings: Micah, violence

Part 4 & Masterlist

Part 6

Truth be told, after a week of being shunned by everybody except Arthur, you were starting to miss life as an O’Driscoll. Sure, they were slimy and smelly and brash and cruel, but they would at least excrete some sense of comradery alongside the shit they gave you.

You were used to being an oddball. Mocked for your smooth face, you insisted on a past life as a talented barber. If anyone cracked a shot at your wide hips, you placed a precise amount of lead in a non vital limb as warning to copycats. The terror of being discovered earned you a streak of being ruthless, which is how you climbed the ranks and managed to squeeze out regular breaks every few weeks.

The Van der Linde crap was something else though. The women pressing their lips together, the men spitting threats when Arthur’s out of earshot… Everybody was giving the two of you a wide berth and Arthur’s heavy sigh whenever he noticed someone acting colder than they had before didn’t do much to comfort you. This hurt on a personal level. You were the talk of this small town, but there was no house to take refuge in and no brick walls to keep the whispers out. Instead, you were sat on display with a billowing cotton sheet for privacy at best.

“They’ll get over it,” Arthur assures you daily. “They did with Kieran.”

Kieran Duffy - his whole corpse shook like the last leaf in autumn during a tornado. If your pulse was personified it would shake less, even when someone throws out a casual threat. Your feelings towards the man vary from disgust of his betrayal to rabid jealousy of him being able to live a life here without a bodyguard. As much as you appreciate your lover’s constant presence dissuading others from picking a fight, his protective streak was growing old.

Eventually, Hosea intervenes Arthur on his return coffee trip. Judging from Arthur’s glare, and the way he keeps looking back to you, it’s about a job that needs to be done. You know for a fact that money is thin on the ground - you’ve heard Miss Grimshaw berating the other men in camp about it, hissing with venum whenever they dare complain about picking up the slack.

After returning from another vain bathroom break (despite having little to no weight to push on your bladder, somehow your ability to retain liquids has diminished to that of a newborn yourself), you find Arthur gathering supplies.

“Won’t be long,” he assures you, a gentle kiss on your lips, squeezing your hand as he picks up his satchel. “Some feller other side of Valentine owes us money. I gotta go deal with him, but when I get back I was thinkin’ we could get outta here, do some huntin’ or somethin’, what you reckon?”

“Sounds great!” You force yourself to grin despite your stomach sinking faster than a wounded elk. Something in his eyes betrays his own attempt at make believe, jovially mounting his mare and galloping away with a small wave.

“New to camp?”

You look up as threateningly as you can. A man with sharp cheekbones and a thick dark beard is grinning at you jovially.

“Don’t get ya knickers in a twist - I ain’t gonna stab you or nuttin.” He holds out a grubby hand. “Name’s Peader.”

“Peter?” you repeat.

His eyes crumple with his chuckle. “Aye, if that’s easier for youse.”

You swear as you stick your thumb with the needle. You were better at gutting fish than needlework, and no one ate the fish you gutted. Seemingly tired of washing out more bloodstains, Miss Grimshaw calls you over to a wash basin to begin laundry.

“No heavy liftin’!” she snaps as you kneel on the ground beside the tub. “If you need somethin’ heavy movin’, you shout someone, y’hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply. You’ve overheard the other women in camp complaining about how bossy she is, but you find comfort in it - no matter how stern she can be, she never treats you differently for your time with Colm. For that, no matter how small, you can’t help but be grateful.

“It’s nice not to be the youngest for once.”

You stiffen. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I’m a hairy one for fifteen but-” Peter rubs the hair of his jaw pointedly and it knocks you sick. Two hours into this crazy life and you’re already found. What will they do to you now?

“Fifteen?” you repeat incredulously.

A belly laugh bubbles from his mouth. “Aye. Me balls dropped before I was walkin’, unlike youse. How old are you anyways, Thomas?”

“Fourteen,” you blurt out, your stomach dropping with every lie. At least you have a comrade to hide behind now. After all, this works better than the truth, and should hopefully buy you time until Heidi gets here.

You get to work, hating how the detergent creates a thick layer of slime over your skin. Even as your knuckles protest, you scrub until your arms ache, working out your frustrations against the ridges of the washer board. You keep your eyes down, your ears perked for any hint of ambush - but it still takes you by surprise when a pair of spurs stop too close for comfort.

“Ahh, Guinevere! We meet again!”

If anyone is hurt because of your actions, I’ll put a bullet in you.

You bite your tongue, wringing out a pair of Dutch’s trousers. You can feel the dead grey stare boring it’s way into your head before slowly sweeping over your body.

“Heard Ol’ Morgan’s knocked you up.” Micah chuckles, stepping forward to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear, but you flinch at the contact. “But I ain't above tryin' again.”

Blood is roaring in your ears as your body tries to decide between fight and flight. Somewhere you can hear someone shouting, but it’s lost to the ripple of goosebumps up your back as he closes in on you.

“Whaddaya say, hmm?”

“I said leave her alone, dammit!”

“Oh, Miss Roberts,” he purrs, finally stepping back. “Of course you may join us. We were thinking about making it a party. Mom’s club, right? I mean, John and Arthur ain’t here, and since Jenny coulda been carrying Micah Bell IV, I guess it’s only fair I play the part of Daddy.”

You try to continue with the washing, but Abigail is tugging you to your feet by the back of your dress.

“In your dreams, Micah,” she snarls, pushing you to her tent where young Jack is drawing in the dirt with a stick. “Arthur’s gonna kick your ass from here to California if you keep hasslin’ her.”

“No need to get jealous, Abigail. I know it’s been a while since John’s taken to you. Where is he anyhow? Has he found himself a new whore to impregnate?”

“Piss off!”

He tuts, moustache twitching. “Now, that ain’t nice. I mean, can’t be worse than an O’Driscoll, can it? Poor Morgan. Just when you think he’s hit rock bottom, he just keeps rollin’, doesn’t he?”

“Bell!”

He turns into Arthur’s fist with a crunch. His horse is trotting away from the ruckus, the other men in camp hurrying over as Arthur straddles his swollen stomach and begins pummelling him with his fists.

“MR MORGAN!” cries Dutch, moustache twitching with fury. “What is going on?”

Bill tries to pull him off, but Charles pushes him aside, wrapping his arms around his middle and hoisting him to his feet.

“He’s not worth it,” Charles murmurs softly as he sets him down facing the other way.

“If you have somethin’ to say to her, you can say it to my face!” Arthur spits over his shoulder, fists still clenched, his breathing heavy although calming energy is flooding him from Charles’ touch.

“What has gotten into you?” demands Dutch, striding up with Hosea at his side.

“I come back in, after leaving her for an hour and Micah’s already slimed over!”

“A pretty bird like that - you can’t know she’ll come back to you until you set her free,” says Micah thickly, holding his sleeve against his nose.

“You’re a damn cockroach!”

“Alright, alright, everyone calm down!” Dutch surveys the crowd. “Micah. A word? And Arthur - why are you back so soon?”

“Feller’s croaked.” He glares at Strauss who’s working nearby. “He needs to be more careful who he loans to. Got the impression I weren’t the first to demand payment. Bastard owes more than he could’ve ever paid up.”

Dutch breathes out hard through his nose. "Well you better find the money from somewhere, son."

Shrugging Charles off with mumbled excuses, he all but flies to your side. “Y’alright? He didn’t hurt either o’ you, did he?”

“You think he’d still be here if he had?” Miss Roberts rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Abigail,” he mutters when he’s assured himself you are completely unscathed. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. He’s had it comin’ for god knows how many weeks - here’s hopin’ he don’t go forgetting his lesson too soon.”

"I mean… well you know what I mean." He gives you a squeeze before heading after Strauss. “Gimme five minutes, Y/N, and we’ll head out.”

“Alright,” you reply, brushing off your skirts with a hesitant look up to your saviour. “Thank you for… that.”

"You dont talk much do you?" Her blue eyes are sharp, squinting at you suspiciously when you shrug.

"Reckon it's better I keep my mouth shut," you admit.

She thinks about this before nodding in agreement. "For future reference, nobody is gonna think bad of you if you call Micah out on his crap. He ain't too popular round here."

"Ok."

"And another thing?" She checks Arthur is still busy with Strauss before leaning in closer. "If you hurt him, you'll be lucky if Micah gets to you first,” she hisses. “We clear?"

You nod as fervently as you can until she waves a hand to dismiss you.

"Enjoy your evening, Y/N."

****

Riding out with Arthur, the tension you hadn't realised was being contained in your shoulder muscles rolls off of your body. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, your cheek resting in the middle of his shoulders. He tilts his head back to touch more of you as you descend down the side of the hill towards West Elizabeth.

He insists on setting up camp whilst you start fishing in Dakota's River. Eventually he plonks himself on the bank beside you, a foot of space between your bodies as he also pulls out his rod and sets to baiting.

You sit in the quiet, enjoying each other's presence without complications.

"You, sir, are a fish!" he grins as he pulls in a fat bass.

"Do you always compliment your prey?"

"I pay compliments where they're due, beautiful."

You laugh, casting out again.

"How was it today? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Who? Micah?" You twitch the rod. "No. You came back before it got out of hand."

"Everyone treat you ok?"

You shrug. What is there to say? No one trusts you. Half would be happy if you were still bound to the trunk. In all honesty you can't blame them; you yourself are struggling to trust them and there are times when you would rather be tied to a tree so you don't have to watch your back.

"Listen. We got word that one of the fellers from the ferry is being moved outta state." He reels in another fish much to your dismay. "Javier and Charles have already headed down there to scope it out, but Dutch is wantin' me to go after them, check it's ok."

You say nothing, knowing he isn't finished yet.

"I'd be gone a couple days. Maybe more, but I doubt it. The boys should have done the leg work by now, so it should be a matter of grabbing him and getting gone."

"Do what you have to do." You give him a small smile. "Won't do us no good if they think I'm turning you against them."

"True, but that won’t stop me." He stares you out with his handsome gaze. "Say the word and I'll stay. They won’t miss me much, I'm just an extra gun."

"Take your guns and go stretch your legs. I can look after myself."

"And the baby?"

"I can care for the wee O'Driscoll wain, aye," you tease.

He chuckles. “You been listenin’ to Miss Molly?”

“More like I’ve been surrounded by all manner of irish men til you lifted me out of there.” You twitch your rod again, gasping joyfully as you feel a tug.

“You think they’re missin’ you? Them O’Driscoll boys?” he asks as you land an underwhelming pickeral.

“There were too many of us,” you admit with a shrug, offering him a small reassuring smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve ceased to exist to them. All those times you and I were together, none of ‘em recognised me for who I really was. They might comment, sure, but to be fair it’s real easy to lose track of who you have and haven’t seen. No one’s blown a whistle about Kieran going missing and he’s been with you how many weeks?”

He chuckles softly, eyes sad. “I didn’t mean missin’ you as a gun. You not make any friends?”

“It- It isn’t the same as what you’ve got.” You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat as you cast out again with what you hope to be a more tempting chunk of cheese. “Most of them, the way they talk about women… it’s enough to know you’ve got a spare gun in a fight. No more.”

***

Arthur leaves early the following morning. He leaves a heavy kiss on your lips, his eyes burning into you, swearing an unspoken oath that if anything happens whilst he's away, the devil himself will not stomach the consequences.

As much as Hosea has accepted himself as your guardian, he is often guarding the rest of camp like some over tired dad. To avoid another Micah situation, if not separated in Arthur's tent, you hover near him or the other women despite their dirty looks. Abigail appears to tolerate you, but Mary Beth is the only other woman in camp actively throwing you a smile. The blonde - Mrs Adler - seems to hate you the most. If you get too close, her arms shake from clenching her fists so hard.

"Are you a real life O'Driscoll?"

Pulled from your thoughts, you find yourself eye to eye with the little boy who’s still sniffling after being sick a few weeks ago.

“How’d you mean?”

“Mama said Uncle Arthur brought another O’Driscoll back.”

You huff, uncomfortable of the gossip going around. “I was. I’m not now, though. I’m one of you now.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You look around for his mother but come up empty. “Because if I was, I’d still be tied to the tree.”

“But why?”

“Because the O’Driscolls and the Van der Lindes aren’t friends.”

“Why?”

You resist rolling your eyes and instead send a prayer up to the heavens, marking it as urgent before you throw this boy off the cliff. “Because Dutch wasn’t very nice to Colm, and when Colm wasn’t nice to Dutch, he didn’t like it, and they decided you had to be on one side or the other.”

“Which one are you?”

“I’m a Van der Linde now, like you.”

“But Mama said-”

“I mean, I live with you now. With Dutch. Not Colm.”

He thinks on that, and the moment’s reprise is heavenly. You begin to hum to yourself, but are quickly interrupted.

“Ma said you tricked Uncle Arthur.”

“Did she?” you ask, too tired to be disappointed.

“Yeah. She and him talked a long time when you came back.” He’s picking the bark of his branch, dropping splinters into your shoes. “Mama said you was bein’ sneaky, but Uncle Arthur told her to get lost.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Is it true you’re gonna have a baby?” he asks brightly,

“Hopefully…” He frowns, confusion dimpling between his eyebrows. You realise that he is still in a place of innocence that the world is black and white. You swallow a lungful of air, trying to think how best to explain. “Something could happen yet- things go wrong sometimes and-”

“What sorta things?”

You tuck your hair behind your ears, poking at your stitching, wondering where the hell his mother has got to. “Well, it might not grow properly yet. Usually ladies don’t tell anyone until a bit further along… if I get sick, or if the baby gets hurt it might not… you know. It might not make it to being outside my tummy.”

“When will you know?”

“When it gets here I suppose.” You look up at the boy’s thoughtful expression. “Why so many questions? You excited?”

“Yeah! Ima be an uncle!”

“You’re a little young to be an uncle, kid.” You can feel your mouth pulling into a smile despite yourself. “You’ll be cousins though, I guess. Your pa and Arthur are brothers, right?”

“Right! So this is gonna be my brother?”

You stifle a laugh of disbelief. “Well we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet-”

“Do you got any brothers?”

“Jack! You playin’ hide and go seek again?”

“I’m here, Mama!”

Abigail rounds the tent, her expression darkening at the sight of you. You gulp, dropping your gaze back to your stitching, but the boy is already gushing about the new information you’ve taught him.

“Mama! She said she isn’t an O’Driscoll, so that means she can stay right?” He’s pulling on his mother’s skirts, pointing at you like you’re a bear behind bars. “I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“Maybe,” you remind him with a little more force than intended.

Her blue eyes flash with suspicion before the tug attracts her attention again. “Jack, honey, the baby’ll be a cousin to you. For you to be a big brother, me and your pa would have to have another one of you.”

“You can do that?”

She gapes, a fish out of water. It’s painful to watch.

“This baby can be your brother or sister,” you splutter, more to the mother than her son. “I mean, Arthur’s your pa’s big brother right? But they don’t have the same mom and dad so if you love them enough, I don’t see the harm.”

He’s looking up with his big eyes until Abigail offers you a half smile. “Right,” she confirms, crouching down and straightening his little coat. “You’re gonna be a big brother. Uncle Arthur’ll be mighty proud of you.”

“Can I go play?”

“Sure, Jack.” She watches as he runs off, dragging his stick behind him. Slowly she turns to you, arms folded across her chest. “He weren’t botherin’ you, was he?”

“No, no, of course not!” At least, he isn’t now.

“I- I’m sorry if he was bein’ nosy. It’s alright to tell him to butt outta your business if he gets a bit much. He heard me talkin’ with Arthur ‘bout it all-”

“Yeah he said,” you say as offhandedly as you can manage. You notice her teeth pulling on her lip out the corner of your eye, but you don’t react. Keep your hands clean, you tell yourself, tying a knot and cutting the thread. Keep your nose out. Wait for Arthur.

“How are you feelin’? About it all?”

You look up, surprised by her gentleness after the cold front that’s been hitting you on repeat from every member of camp. Exhaling thoughtfully, you shrug, not objecting as she pulls over a chair to sit down at the edge of the tent. “Alright, I guess. Gotta just… see what happens, I suppose.”

“That’s what Arthur said.” She offers you a small sympathetic smile. “He ain’t usually one for whistlin’, but he ain’t stopped since we got off them mountains. Thought it was the change of weather, but I suppose, looking back, it was meetin’ you.”

Colour blossoms in your cheeks as you look away. “I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t exactly been in the best of moods the past couple of weeks.”

“He’s pleased,” she assures you quietly, her eyes bright and earnest with honesty. “I think he’s just nervous like you are, that it might not work out, but I known him long enough to tell you I ain’t seen this side to him since Jack was first born.”

Your ears prick. “He isn’t-?”

“No! No, Jack is a Marston, I got no doubt at all about that. I just remember him bein’ real pleased when Jack was a baby. He- Being a father is something he- he’ll enjoy I’m sure.”

“I know about Isaac,” you breathe quietly and she lets out a big sigh of relief.

“Oh good! I was worried I’d said too much.”

“Don’t worry. He told me in the doctor’s when-” You shake your head of the memory. “Anyway. I know he’s not sure about it all.”

“He will be.” She gives you a sincere smile. “He’s a worrier, even if he tries not to show it. He’ll be better when it’s here, safe and sound. Anyways - I best leave you rest.”

“Sure.” You hesitate before calling out to her, making her turn back. “Thank you,” you call, not really sure how better to express yourself. She smiles and gives you a wave of understanding.

“I’ll see you around.”

#red dead fic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #meowdymista #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

[ad1thi]

and then there’s you | Au-gust Day 8: Superheroes/Superpowers AU

AU-gust masterlist

i took a brief hiatus but now im back!! this is possibly one of my favourite things ive written, ever

//

Steve was never expecting to get along with James. He didn't have the best start with Tony - even though he likes to believe that they've moved past that and have become good friends - and James' protective streak was well known. After all, the man broke records trying to fly back to New York fast enough and managed to show up just as the Hulk picked up Tony from the sky.

 He still remembers the way James landed around them with a thud, his faceplate snapping up and shoving all of them to the side so that he could get to Tony. He remembers the way Tony's face softened; the way James reached out with one metal encased hand to awkwardly rub his hair before settling on his shoulder.

 He remembers fiercely missing the time in his life when someone looked at him like that, like he was the reason the world continued turning.

 In retrospect, Steve honestly should've seen this whole thing coming, but he's still blindsided by the whole thing.

After the last of the Chitauri are felled down, Thor and James raging in the sky until they drop like flies, they regroup back at Stark Tower. It's almost too easy, over in a matter of hours, even though Steve feels like it's taken ages. They lock the Spectre away and clasp chains around Loki's body - and he can release a breath that he didn't know he was holding it.

 "Colonel Rhodes," he says, later, when they're all lounging in a beatdown shawarma joint, shamelessly taking advantage of an extremely grateful store-owner, “I just wanted to say thank you for all your help. Having two heavy hitters in the sky really helped us take down the stragglers. We couldn't have done it without you."

 James and Tony (from where he's resting on James' shoulder) both turn to him and give him identical looks, the kind that makes Steve want to duck his head and rub the back of his neck.

 "No need to thank me Cap," James says finally, "Just doing my civic duty." But he keeps looking at Steve, in a way that stirs feelings inside Steve that he thought had died when he went into the ice.

 Guess not.

 He nods once and is saved from answering by Tony grabbing the Colonel into another discussion. He takes another bite into his wrap, the food feeling wooden inside his mouth. Tony has one hand in the air, gesticulating wildly, but the other is wound around James, inter-twined with his own. It twists something inside Steve, and he tries to tell himself that it's just him missing his life before the ice. Before he was dropped into the twenty first century.

 He looks up to see Thor giving him an all too knowing look for a man who only met him a couple of hours ago. It makes him so uncomfortable that he stands abruptly, pulling both Tony and Rhodey out of their conversation.

 "I have to go," he says stiffly, "I have some work to attend to. I'll see you guys at the Helicarrier tomorrow at 0900 for a debrief," he nods at his team, "Colonel, it would good to meet you."

"Call me James," he says, nonplussed, "that’s what everyone who isn't this fella calls me," he thumbs at Tony; who's face twists in mock outrage.

 Steve doesn't say anything, spinning on his heel and all but running out of the shawarma joint, lest he dwell too strongly on the fact that James called Tony fella.

 Despite their horrendous first meeting, Steve and James actually get on fairly well. He's in New York a lot, despite still being on active duty. Ostensibly, it's because the War Machine - now rebranded as Iron Patriot armour needs regular check-ups and after what Tony and James mysteriously refer to as the Hammer incident - Tony is the only one who fiddles with it.

 It makes sense, since Tony designed the damn thing, but Steve knows that James is a genius of his own right. Privately, he thinks that James is equipped to deal with any and all faults in the armour, but he makes it a point to come for Tony. Watching your bestfriend strap a nuke to his back and fly into space with no concrete desire to return tends to do that to someone. Hell, if Bucky had pulled something like that he wouldn't have left him out of his sight.

 Besides, now that Steve has been living with him and gotten to know the man behind the mask so to speak, he can see why Tony inspires that kind of loyalty. The way he badly misjudged Tony still digs at him, even though Tony has waved off his apologies multiple times and promises that he harbours no bad feelings.

 Steve isn't complaining though. He likes that James visits, even though he frowns everytime James complains about how hard it was to finagle time with his superiors. Clint calls it his Captain America face, says that he makes it every time he thinks there's a fight. Steve doesn't know if he has a specific face, but he does know that it doesn't sit right with him that James has to fight that much to come stateside.

 That was the whole point of the War, that they would fight so that future generations don't have to. There's a lot to be said for the twenty first century. His country's proclivity with inserting themselves into every war that side of the Atlantic isn't one of them.

 Still, James' regular check-ups mean that Steve has gotten a chance to get to know Tony's bestfriend - since he winds up spending a lot of time in the workshop these days; sketching while Tony putters around. It's like white noise - the sound of a wrench or a blowtorch, interspersed with Tony and JARVIS sniping with each other, and it reminds Steve of the barracks, of the Howlies huddled around a single fire and sniping around each other.

 (It reminds him that he's no longer alone)

 When James comes however, the entire workshop lights up, and Steve along with it. Despite his best efforts, the smidgen of interest he'd felt in the shawarma joint has buried itself inside him, planted seeds and grown around his heart. It doesn't help that James is one of the most easy-going people he's ever met, the kind of person one gravitates to.

 He reminds Steve deeply of Bucky, but then again - Steve was never overcome with the urge to bear Bucky down and kiss him until they both couldn't breathe.

 "Steve!" James cries out, as the workshop doors open with the faintest snick, "It's good to see you."

Steve looks up from his sketchbook - where he's been drawing James funnily enough - and gives him a warm smile, "James. Good to see you. How's the Iron Patriot?"

"Don't call it that," Tony wags his wrench at Steve, looking like he's contemplating the merits of lobbing it at him, "You do not call it that in my workshop. This is a sacred space."

 "She's handling like a dream," James says over Tony, but he still walks over and pulls Tony in for a small hug before making his way over to Steve. The first time this had happened, Steve was almost jealous, but he's since realised that it's just a part of James' schedule. The need to physically remind himself that Tony is okay.

 "There's been a couple of tough missions," he continues with a grimace, after he's done surreptitiously looking Tony over and found his way to the couch where Steve is currently propped up. "I've definitely got some fresh bullet dents. But nothing Tony can't fix, isn't that right Tony?" he calls out to where Tony has turned back to his holo-screens and gets a half-hearted gesture in response that Steve takes to mean that Tony has heard James.

 "Enough about me though, not in the least because I could be arrested for going into detail," James reaches out and places his hand over Steve's; and it takes everything in Steve to not react to the touch, "You getting through the list okay?"

 A month into his stay at the Tower, Steve was listlessly chewing a banana in the Common Room when James came out for some water and saw him. "They taste weird," he'd said, when James asked if the banana had done something to offend him, "I guess I was just hoping it was something that hadn't changed."

James had regarded him for a second, and then pulled out a napkin from thin air, "You should make a list. It's what I tell most of my rookies, when they're going back after a long tour. Make a list of everything you want to catch up and work through it on your own pace. At the very least, it gives you something to do."

 Ever since then, Steve keeps a small black book on his person, filling it with a never-ending list of things. The entire team pitches in, depending on what it is that Steve is about to discover about the twenty-first century. Steve likes it best when James carves out time for him though.

 "I'm adding more things than I'm crossing out," Steve admits, and James clucks sympathetically, "but it's good. I've not Star Wars on my list next? And Tony made me promise to wait for you to come back so that both of you could introduce it to me together."

 James whistles lowly, but his eyes light up, "Oh I am so happy that you waited for me for this. Never listen to Tony, he thinks the prequels deserve rights," he bends down to whisper at Steve loudly, "we don't recognise the prequels."

"Is that prequels slander I hear in my safe haven?" Tony pipes up, spinning around to face them. He's still got the wrench in his hand, "Don't make me revoke your access honeybear because I will, don't test me."

 James holds up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm going to go freshen up," he says with a clap, "but after I'm back, we can discuss Star Wars strategy."

 Steve watches him go, until he disappears around the corner. When he looks back at the workshop, he sees Tony looking at him with a look that's half speculative, half sympathetic.

 "You know that nothing can happen right?" he says apropos of nothing, but Steve knows exactly what he's talking about, "It's against the law. DADT. If his superiors find out, his career is over. 's why me and him ended in the first place."

  Steve found out about Tony and James' history only a month ago, and the sting has faded. Mostly because he knows it was a long time ago, and neither of them harbour those feelings anymore.

 "I know," Steve says carefully, because Tony is still James' bestfriend, "and I wouldn't ask him to risk that. Doesn't change how I feel though. And if I have to wait, or hide it, or even ignore it until he's ready to deal with it - I'm ready for all of it."

 Tony nods, like it's the answer he's expected, "You'll be good for him Steve. He deserves someone who'll wait." Unlike me, who didn't goes unsaid.

 "I don't expect anything from him Tony," Steve says, looking Tony right in the eye, "but I can't just pretend I don't feel the way I do. Especially not if there's the barest possibility that he feels the same."

 Steve isn't generally good with these sorts of things, recognising interest. Still, he doesn't think he's imagined the looks he's gotten from James the past couple of times he's been over, over misread the touching, the talking, the borderline flirting.

 "He does," Tony confirms, "but like I said - nothing can happen." He says in a careful tone, and it takes Steve a couple seconds to cotton onto what Tony is implying. It leaves a rush through him, reminding him of back-alley trysts, protected by the shadows.

 "Nothing can happen," Steve repeats, and Tony pointedly turns his back as Steve leaps up from the couch and follows James out. He thinks about calling ahead, or maybe messaging - but there's a decent chance that James already knows about this conversation, since Tony wouldn't have brought it up unless James had expressly allowed him too.

 Steve might not know much about the twenty first century, but bro-code well enough.

 He knocks on James' door, thrumming with energy, and his heart stutters when James opens it in a towel; one around his waist, catching the droplets of water falling down his chest, and another around his neck.

 "Steve?" he asks, and there's no mistaking the hopeful tone in his voice. It confirms Steve's suspicions, that Tony was talking to him on behalf of James.

 Steve doesn't reply, just pulls him for a kiss.

 Fin

#my writing #steverhodey #warshield #steve rogers/james rhodes #steve x rhodey #steve rogers x james rhodes #adi does AU-gust #AU-gust #Superheroes/Superpowers AU #post Avengers (2012) #past rhodeytony #pre slash #mutual pining #first kiss #dadt #secret relationship #pov steve rogers

[fragmentedink-archived]

Hell to Pay: Part Ten

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX

cowritten by: @lux-scriptum

Nik had spent the last ten minutes sorting through Cameron’s shirts. There were so few that were soft and it didn’t help that he was in the closet. It felt like the walls were pressing in on him, but he focused his attention on getting the shirts he wanted for his growing pile.

Tugging a few cotton shirts from their hangers, Nik buried his face in the soft fabric. He was sure Cameron could hear him purring from the kitchen, and a part of him was torn to go bug him, but he needed to do this first.

Nik had discarded the shirts in his growing pile when he eyed the comforter on the bed. If he was careful… maybe… he could get it without waking Lev up. Doubtful. But Nik wanted that blanket. So suffer Lev must. Nik went over and shook Lev awake. “Lev. Move to the couch.”

Nik got a sleepy “mmph?” for his troubles. He sighed loudly. “I need the bed. Move.”

Lev stirred and blinked up at him sleepily. Nik was impatient enough, part of him was ready to physically move Lev to the couch. Lev rubbed his eyes and sat up, slowly, so damn slowly moving from the bed to the couch. Yes. Excellent. The moment Lev was off the mattress he started peeling the sheet off. Lev’s scent was too distracting. It also clung to the comforter, but it wasn’t as strong as Cameron’s or his was. And he could work with that.

He could feel Lev watch him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Lev bundled up in the throw blanket, blinking owlishly. “What are you doing?”

“I’m-” Nik looked down at the bed. What was he doing? He blinked hard, and sighed deeply, ignoring his face warming. “Nesting. Apparently.”

“O- oh,” Lev said, more awake now. “Do you want me to leave? I can- do you want me to get Cameron?”

Shit shit shit. Cameron. Right. His omega had already perked up at the mention of his alpha. “Yes.” He stopped himself. “No.” He bit back his frustration. Cameron hadn’t been involved with a heat before. At least, with his heat. Stars, maybe his services had been bought by other omegas during their heats. He could see the appeal and was a little disgusted. “I-” he cut himself off. He wanted Cameron. But-

Lev seemed a little confused, and concerned. “Nik?”

Nik was frozen with indecision. “I- don’t. Know.”

“Why… why don’t you want Cameron?” Lev asked, leaning forward. “I’m. How can I help?”

“I… Cameron hasn’t. I don’t want to make Cam think he has to… help me.” He probably sounded like a lunatic. He wasn’t sure that Lev was at all aware of Cameron’s past. Helping an omega was one thing, Cameron was another. “I haven’t had a heat with him before.”

“Oh.” Lev seemed to understand his hesitation. “What do you want me to do?”

I want Cameron, Nik thought, crossly. “Nothing. Just. Tell Cameron… nothing. Tell him absolutely nothing. I’ll figure it out.” He hadn’t had a heat alone since. Stars. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a heat alone. But maybe he could lie his way out of the house and go hole himself up somewhere for a week.

Scrubbing his face, Nik blinked back the tears of frustration threatening to well. That wouldn’t work. He couldn’t just disappear for an entire week without Cameron trying to find him. “Just go,” Nik sighed. “Leave me alone.”

Lev moved closer to him. Nik couldn’t stop himself from flinching back at the light touch to his arm. “Okay.” Lev scurried back. “But- please take care of yourself, though.”

Nik waved him off, and stared down at the blankets, half frozen from doing anything. He heard the door shut, but not all the way. He kneaded his fingers in the blanket, unsure of what to do next. But he had less than a week to figure it out.

The closer he got to his heat, the less capable of decision making he was going to be.

------

Cameron had rounded the corner when he nearly slammed right into Lev. He hadn't been expecting Lev to be awake, and had gone to wake both him and Nik up. Lev staggered back, yawning into his hands.

Cameron stepped back, but frowned when Lev tried scurrying past him without so much as an apology. “Stop.” Lev halted in place, and slowly turned around. “What’s going on? Where are you going?” Lev shook his head and Cameron’s brows narrowed. “Levant.”

“My bedroom,” he said, quickly.

Cameron folded his arms. “Is there something wrong with my bedroom?” Lev shook his head, When Lev didn’t elaborate, he said, “What’s Nik doing?” When Lev pressed his lips together and shrugged, Cameron had to bite back his growl. It was too early for this; he’d barely slept at all. “I’d have thought you’d learn your lesson about lying for Nik.”

Cameron didn’t bother waiting for Lev’s response and started for the bedroom. Pulling open the double doors, Cameron blinked at Nik standing as still as a statue at the end of the bed. He took quick inventory of the closet doors open and all his clothes scattered on the floor. His skin pricked at all his things out of place. He forced his eyes back to Nik. “Are you in preheat?” Or did you just throw all my shit on the ground for no reason?

Nik’s shoulders curved slightly inward and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I-”

“Do not lie to me.”

Nik turned his head, blue streaked black hair falling in his bloodshot eyes; he looked like he had been crying. Or at least close to it. “This is my problem, not yours.”

Cameron’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re going to attempt to do you’re heat alone?” he asked, flatly. “I’m willing to bet you haven’t had a heat alone in a solid decade. Your body couldn’t handle going from being with someone back to enduring that. Especially if you’re trying to nest with my scent.” He barely heard Nik’s smothered whine. “Nikolas, look at me.”

Turning around almost against his will, Nik awkwardly folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not going to make you… help me... when-”

“When I used to be a whore?” Cameron asked. “One would think that because I was a whore that I’d be the best option to service you during your heat.”

Nik grimaced. “There is so much wrong with what you just said. Cam, I’m not-”

“You’re mine,” Cameron said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I figured I’d be servicing you during your heat anyways. That is my job.”

“No,” Nik said, stubbornly, “It is not.”

“You are mine. I am your alpha,” Cameron said, incensed. “That is what I am supposed to do. Alphas do not let their omega go through heats alone. Stop trying to make a point that doesn’t need to be made.”

Struggle flickered in Nik’s dark eyes, but his mouth shut. His alpha was already on edge when he came into the room, but this omega back talking him was starting to grate on his nerves. “Do you not want me to service you,” Cameron said, sharply. “Yes or no.”

Nik sighed sharply. “I do. But-”

“Then I am,” Cameorn said. “That’s the end of it.” He unbuttoned his shirt the best he could, ignoring the wince flinching through his back and tossed him his shirt. “Here.” Nik instantly brought the shirt to his nose, and Cameron could hear the low rumble of Nik’s purr. “Now stop making my day difficult and build your nest. I’m cooking lunch.”

He had gotten to the doors when Nik mumbled his thanks. Electing to not answer him, Cameron slipped out of the room and went back to the kitchen.

----

Poking at his plate, Lev refused to look up. Cameorn had made more than enough for him and Nik. With any luck, though, Cameron would be more concerned with Nik, who was glued so close to Cameron’s side he might as well be in Cameron’s lap. He wasn’t hungry and he just wanted to go back to bed.

“Stop playing with your food and eat it,” Cameron said. “You’re not a child.”

Lev glanced up, and then looked down again. He didn’t say anything, just kept chasing a single pea across his plate. He wasn’t playing, he just... wasn’t hungry. And, maybe, if he just didn’t look up, he wouldn’t have to acknowledge that he was ignoring Cameron entirely.

Nik’s agitated voice cut through Lev’s determination to keep chasing that pea. “Will you fucking eat something?”

“I’m not hungry.” Lev tightened his fingers around his fork. He wasn’t going to look up. It was easier to say no when he didn’t have to look at them. “I wanted to sleep some more, not have lunch.”

“Sucks to want,” Cameron replied without hesitation.

Lev jerked his head up, pressing his lips together. The words you can't make me rose unbidden, but Lev choked them down, abruptly terrified of the sheer refusal that had nearly overcome him. It took him a second, but he ate the goddamn pea.

He wasn’t sure if it was a relief or not when a sentry appeared in the doorway, drawing Cameron’s attention from Lev.

“What?”

Lev could sympathize with the way the sentry swallowed visibly. “There’s a visitor at the door,” they said, straightening their shoulders.

Cameron moved to stand, but not before returning his pale gaze to Lev. “You’re not going anywhere until at least half your plate is gone.”

Lev looked down, trying to ignore Nik’s whine when Cameron actually left. After a long moment, Lev took an actual bite. Might as well. None of this would taste good cold, and Lev didn’t have the stubbornness to fight Cameron on this.

He was only a couple bites in when Cameron came back. A few moments behind him was a familiar face that had Lev standing. His grandmother’s silver eyes settled on him even as Cameron’s hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him back into his seat.

“I told you you weren’t moving until you ate,” Cameron said firmly.

“But-” Lev didn’t take his eyes off of Raziel, tears welling up.

“I did not stutter,” was all Cameron replied, unsympathetic.

Raziel’s expression was more unreadable than Cameron’s. “I’m not going anywhere, little bird. I can wait for you to finish.”

Lev looked up at Cameron, even though he knew he’d find no give there. All he got was an, “Eat your food.”

And so Lev did. Every damn bite. Cameron didn’t move from his side the entire time, and Raziel didn’t seem inclined to move from the doorway, either. Lev shoved the plate away once it was empty and launched himself at her. She was ready for him, wrapping her arms around him without hesitation, though her embrace was looser than usual.

“You’ve been avoiding me, little bird.”

Lev pressed his face against her shoulder, swallowing his guilty whimper. “I didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbled.

“After that mess with Remiel, both of them, I worried more when you stopped coming to see me. And now this?” She tipped his chin up with cool fingers. “Should I be worried about your situation now, or just finding Remiel for what he’s done?”

“The angels are already looking to track him down,” Nik said, startling Lev.

“I know. I’m helping,” Raziel said.

Lev drew back, shoulders tensing. “Why? I don’t- I don’t want-” His breathing picked up. “Why do they care? He hurt me, and I’m not- I don’t matter, and I don’t want any more trouble. Why can’t they leave it alone?”

Cameron spoke before Raziel could. “Never say anything like that again.”

Lev whipped around, staring at Cameron in confusion. Say what? Cameron wasn’t making any sense.

Nik added, “He broke the laws, and he needs to be made an example of.”

But that will only make him worse, Lev thought. Raziel cleared her throat to get his attention. “That wasn’t why I came, little bird.”

Lev had always hated that tone. It was the serious talks tone. Nothing good ever came of that tone. Or, nothing comfortable at least.

“Do you want to come home, Levant?” Raziel ignored Cameron’s low growl with remarkable grace. “I still have room. I’ll always have room for you.”

Lev stared at her. It was an offer he hadn’t been expecting. Going back to live with her again... it would certainly be less complicated. But...

Nik’s voice cut through his slow, muddled thoughts. “He belongs with us.”

“I think that’s a decision for him to make,” Raziel said, flicking her silver gaze over Lev’s shoulder at Nik.

That wasn’t enough to deter Nik, who shot back gracelessly, “The last decision he made led to his wings getting carved off.”

“That doesn’t automatically make him a child that needs you to choose for him.”

“Gramma,” Lev said faintly, voice small.

“If either of us treated him like a child, he would not get fucked the way he does.”

“Nik, please,” Lev said desperately. “I never said I was going to go.”

Not that it mattered. Nik walked out, disappearing down the hall. Lev’s bottom lip trembled.

When no one spoke, Cameron did. “He’s in preheat.”

Lev could see the way Raziel’s mouth tightened. Before she could say anything, Lev said, more to his feet than anything else, “Gramma, I think you should go.”

To her credit, she didn’t really protest. All she said was, “Are you safe here?”

“The safest I’ve ever been,” Lev replied honestly, finally looking up at her. “Could you get Mar to bring me my mug? And- and maybe-”

“I’ll have her bring all the necessities,” Raziel promised. She hesitated, touching his face lightly, before glancing at Cameron. “I know where the door is. I’ll let you know when Remiel is found.”

Whatever response Cameron gave, it must not have been verbal. Raziel pressed a kiss to the top of Lev’s hair, and then she was gone. When Lev touched his cheek, it was dry. It took him a few seconds to turn back to Cameron.

“I- I should go apologize to Nik.” Lev paused, blinking hard, and then, “No I shouldn’t. He doesn’t like that, does he?”

“Check on him if you want, but don’t apologize.”

Lev nodded slowly, but he didn’t move, not yet. “Cameron...? Do you... would it be easier if I’m not here during Nik’s heat?”

Cameron stared right back. “I’m not going to make you leave.”

“You don’t have to.” Lev ducked his chin a bit. “I’m offering. Most- most omegas don’t want another around. And neither do most alphas. I don’t want to- to be a bother, not when I can crash on Mar’s couch or something for a week and come right back.”

Cameron was quiet long enough Lev started to fidget. Finally Cameron said, “I can have a hotel set up for you.”

Lev blinked. He nodded, trying to figure out how he felt about that. In the end, he just said, “I’m going to check on Nik.”

When Cameron didn’t say anything, Lev backed out of the kitchen and followed Nik’s scent to Cameron’s bedroom. When he found Nik, Nik was buried under all the soft things he’d gathered from around the house. Lev settled carefully outside the nest, crossing his legs.

“Nik?” He wiggled a little bit to get more comfy, and then tried again. “Nik, are you okay?”

Nik shifted, and Lev thought for a moment he’d appear enough to have a conversation, but all Nik did was settle more comfortably with his back to Lev. Lev tried not to be hurt by that.

“Nik, I wasn’t going to leave.” Lev hunched his shoulders. “It’s not my fault she offered. She’s just worried, and- she’s family. I want to stay, Nik.”

Nik gave a noncommittal sound.

Lev stared at the pile of blankets and shirts that hid Nik from view. “What do you want me to say, Nik?”

“Say whatever you want. I’m not your keeper.”

Lev frowned. He waited a few more moments before he said softly, “Do you want me to leave? Not the house, just... where your nest is. I don’t- I don’t want to upset you more than I already have.”

Nik didn’t say a damn word.

When Lev spoke again, even he could tell how small his voice was. “Can I come snuggle with you in there?”

Again, no answer.

Lev gave up. He stood, long enough to grab one of the pillows from the couch, anyway, and then he settled back down again, curling on his side. “I’m not leaving you, Nik. Not you or Cameron, not if you don’t want me to,” he said softly.

For a few moments, Lev thought he wouldn’t get an answer again. When Nik slowly rolled over, Lev held his breath. Nik stared him for more than a couple of seconds, but eventually his hand snaked out. For once, Lev didn’t hesitate. He just took the offered hand, relaxing. Nik didn’t seem to want anything more than that, so Lev closed his eyes. This wasn’t the most comfortable place to take a nap but he didn’t want to move. Not right now.

---

A few days later Nik was chewing at the hem of his sleeve in the doorway to Cameron’s room, watching Cam do a crossword puzzle. Lev was cuddled at the other end of the couch napping. Nik was torn between burrowing in his nest and climbing on Cameron. His choice was made for him when Cameron’s pale eyes flicked up to him. “Well?”

Nik was already moving towards Cameron before he opened his mouth. Nik was mostly surprised that Cameron let Nik sit in his lap, and even more surprised when he let him just bury his face in his neck and koala himself around him.

Cameron’s sigh vibrated against Nik’s chest. He knew that had this been literally any other time, Cameron would have pushed Nik on his ass. Nik lightly pressed his teeth in Cameorn’s shoulder, inhaling his scent deep into his lungs. Nik purred and headbutted at Cameron’s jaw until Cameorn looked at him. “Kiss me?”

Cameron looked mildly annoyed but he dipped his head and kissed him on the mouth. Cam was somehow loose and stiff beneath him at the same time, fingers resting on Nik’s hip. Nik lightly clasped Cameron’s face, deepening the kiss before hooking his arms around Cameron’s neck. His hips pressed into him almost instinctively, moving on their own, but Cameron’s fingers kept him securely in place in his lap. He whined. He wanted… he wanted. And Cameron wasn’t letting him have what he wanted. So he settled for kissing. He’d have Cameron all to himself eventually. He just… needed to be patient.

He could do that. He could… do that.

----

Lev was perched on the edge of the table, hands braced on either side of him. At least Cameron was here, leaning up against the doorframe. Rather than keep staring at him, Lev tracked Sazra as she crossed the room. She still made him nervous, and he hadn’t forgotten how much this had hurt last time.

He couldn’t twist to follow her when she walked behind him, but he jumped anyway when he heard her clipped, “Remove your clothes.”

Lev blinked. “...all of them?” he asked hesitantly. That didn’t make much sense, but...

“No. Your shirt.”

“Oh.” Lev reached up and unzipped his hoodie, sliding it off his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing anything else underneath, so once it was off he tugged it around into his lap, wrapping it around his arms.

Cameron’s annoyed voice caught his attention. “Have you been wearing a hoodie without your shirt this entire time?”

Lev looked up. “Yes?” He shrugged, and then winced. “I didn’t want to keep stealing your shirts, and this is easier on my back. And it’s really soft.” It really was; he felt comfortable wearing it constantly, and that really was all he could ask of his hoodies.

Cameron pulled out his phone, his expression vaguely disgusted. “Next time tell me you need shirts.”

“But I have shirts.” Lev ran his thumb over the jacket. “And my back won't hurt forever, and I don’t usually like button downs.”

“You can’t wear hoodies without a shirt. They’re jackets.”

Lev blinked. “Why not?” He flinched as Sazra touched his back with cool fingers.

Cameron’s sigh was undeniably irritated. “Because I said so.”

“Oh,” was all Lev could think to say. He could hear Sazra talking, but it seemed more important to keep an eye on Cameron, and his annoyance. Lev never meant to frustrate him. It just happened “Okay,” he added lamely, just in case.

“You’re not healing,” Sazra said abruptly. “At all.”

Lev paused, unsure. “What do you mean?” he finally said.

“Exactly what I just said,” Saza replied impatiently. “You’re not healing. Not even a little bit. Not at all.”

“Then do your job and heal him for him,” Cameron said sharply.

Lev opened his mouth to say something; there was no reason to be mean. It wasn’t Sazra’s fault Lev was broken. Before he could figure out what to say, Sazra’s claws sank into his back. A cry wrenched from him, and he jerked forward before he could stop himself. Sazra just gripped his shoulder and pulled him back so she could sink her claws back in. It hurt worse than he remembered, and he would almost rather not be healed at all. He dug his fingers in his hoodie, damn near choking on his next cry.

The other side wasn’t much better. It was a miracle he wasn’t on the floor sobbing, really. Even through all the pain, he didn’t shed a single tear, though dry, hoarse sobs came from him either way. By the time she was done he was shaking from head to foot, eyes wide.

It took him a few moments to be able to slide off the table. His knees nearly buckled. When he was sure he wasn’t gonna fall, he eased the jacket back on and zipped it up. After a moment he looked over at Sazra. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Sazra didn’t really look comfortable, but she said stiffly, “Don’t strain your back. And keep those wounds clean.” She didn’t even acknowledge his nod, just fixed Cameron with a look. “I want to look at your back, too.”

-----

Cameron fixed his own look at the healer. Lev was hesitant in the doorway, looking at him. He hadn’t had any healing in the last several days despite sending Lev down here a few times. The pain had been… manageable, so he hadn’t felt the need. Besides, those claws in his back made his skin crawl. But. If he was going to service Nik in his back needed to be healed enough to endure a week of sex. “Make this quick,” Was all he said, as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

He sat on the ledge of the cot and braced himself for the claws. By her sharp intake he imagined it was as bad as it felt, but he chose to ignore it. Lev made a small choked sound and stepped forward, but at the cold look Cameron snapped him, Lev halted in place.

Sazra’s fingers hooked into Cameron’s shoulder and she pulled him back so she could sink her claws in his bruised skin. Pure undiluted pain shot through his body so sharp that his mind went completely static. He gripped the edge of the cot, blinking through the tears coating his vision. “Hurry up,” he rasped.

Lev was twisting his hands in his hoodie pockets. He could almost taste the fear in both Lev and Sazra on his tongue. Sazra was probably afraid he’d kill her if she couldn’t do her job. He didn’t know what he’d do, but if she couldn’t do her basic job then he’d have no use for her. Her claws pulled out slowly. “Left done,” she said, tightly. “I’m going to start on your right.”

“Stop talking and just do it,” Cameron said, rubbing his eyes before any tears fell. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like he was going to break his ribs. He counted down the seconds until she let go of him and got to his feet. Cameron stumbled and threw a hand down on the cot and blinked past the black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He growled when Lev tried reaching out to him. “I’m fine,” he bit out.

Lev halted in place. “I- okay.” He sounded panicked. “Do- you want me to get Nik?”

Cameron blinked rapidly. “Yes,” he croaked after a long moment. He wasn’t getting anywhere without Nik.

Lev started off out the door, most likely going to get Nik. Behind him Sazra cleared her throat. “You are going to permanently damage yourself,” she said, quietly. “I cannot fix you if you keep undoing my work and then some.”

“Worried I’ll kill you if you fail?” he asked, smoothly. “Don’t worry, you’re not worth the effort.”

“That’s not my primary concern,” she said, tightly. “You are my patient.”

“I’m not going to be anything if you don’t shut your mouth,” Cameron retorted, sharply.

Nik appeared in the doorway a moment later. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before coming in and hooking Cameron’s arm around his neck. Cameron swallowed back the coppery taste in his mouth. “I will still be able to do your heat,” he said, automatically. “I’ll be fine by then.”

Sazra made a pained sound, but wisely kept her damned mouth shut. Nik choked on his response. “Cam-”

“Be quiet,” Cameron said. “It’s done. Take me to my room.”

He made it a step before pain seized through him, nearly blacking him out in one go. Nope. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make it up the stairs if he wanted, let alone out of this damned room. Nik looked panicked, he smelled like panic. “Shift,” he said. “I’ll take you upstairs.” Cameron blinked at him blankly. There wasn’t any shade of teasing on Nik’s face, just ernesty and a slight feverish look. “Please.”

He forced himself to level a look at Sazra. “Speak a word of this to anyone and it’ll be the last thing you say.”

Her face paled, but she bowed her head.

Unhooking his arm from Nik’s neck, Cameron gathered the dregs of his strength and shifted. He nearly crumbled to the ground as a fox. If Nik hadn’t been one step ahead of him to scoop him up, he would have. He wheezed, burying his head between Nik’s arm and his side. His instinct was to find somewhere to hide and sleep the pain off- then he’d be able to service Nik when he was healed.

Nik brushed his hand down his spine lightly, muttering something in Spanish, while he made his way through the halls. He took twists and turns actively avoiding the sentries posted through the manor. Cameron rested his head on Nik’s arm, stopping himself from whimpering. He leaned into Nik’s hand brushing against his ear, letting it distract him. As demeaning as this felt, he couldn't deny that it felt nice to have Nik's calloused fingers running in his fur.

Lev opened the bedroom doors, letting Nik slip through quietly. He let Cameron down on the bed gently. He nearly went limp the moment his paws hit the bed, but he forced himself across the mattress to Nik's nest. It was the next best place compared to a small dark hole.

"Shut the doors," Nik told Lev, tightly. "And crack open the windows."

Cameron kneaded at the sheets and shirts, shredding them to make his own small version of a nest before crumbling. His entire body was trembling as he pulled his tail beneath his head and shut his eyes. He let Nik settle in the nest beside him to run his ringed hand through Cameron’s fur.

Lev stood stiffly at the end of the bed, unsure of where to go. Cameron was in no way shape or form to tell Lev what to do; he’d let Nik decide. Though, it would probably be best if Lev was nowhere near him in the nest. He’d probably get bitten and Cameron did not have the willpower to watch Lev be able to handle the toxin. He wasn’t even sure Lev could.

Nik looked over his shoulder at Lev. “Get up here, but not too close. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Lev shuffled hesitantly. “Are you sure?”

Nik sighed. “You belong here too, idiot. We’re just... not completely prepared instinctually for you, yet. Hence why I didn’t let you in my nest earlier,” he added, hesitantly. “We’re not… actively trying to exclude you.”

Cameron didn’t react, just kept focus on Nik’s hand in his fur.

Lev blinked at them and climbed up on the bed, curling awkwardly by the nest, but not too close. “O- okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

Lev shrugged a bit, a wince flinching across his face. Nik just sighed and muttered in spanish, more exasperated than genuinely annoyed at Lev’s nonanswer. He leaned out the nest and grabbed Lev’s face. “I don’t lie to you, or to Cam. Cam hasn’t lied to me, but it’s Cameron.” He quickly kissed Lev. “If we didn’t care about you, we would have left you in that house.”

It was the truth.

Lev flinched a bit and ducked his head into a slight nod. Nik looked at him consideringly. “Do you at least believe that.” Lev nodded and Nik loosened. “This would have gone so differently if I hadn’t triggered my heat so soon.” A small grin twitched on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Having more playmates during heats is more fun than just the one. And it’d be more fun if that was you. But you know how heats are, I probably won’t recognize you. We haven’t exactly known each other for that long, Lev.”

Heats could be so different between omegas. There were no two similar heats that Cameron had been through with omegas. One could have crystal clear recognition afterwards and another could not remember a thing.

Lev was quiet for a moment as he thought through Nik’s words. Cameron barely heard the, “I understand,” from Lev. A small smile tilted up on Lev’s face that Cameron could tell wasn’t quite genuine.

Cameron sighed internally and rested his head on his paws. Closing his eyes, he let sleep pull him under, hopefully away from the pain radiating through his back and the awkwardness of this conversation.

@incandescent-creativity @idreamonpaper @livvywrites @firesidefantasy @solangelo3088 @halstudies

#hell to pay #writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #angels and demons #my writing #amwriting #ch: cameron #ch: nik #lev #cameron and nik and lev

[fan-art-ic]

THE PRINCIPLES OF BEING AN UNTETHERED ZEALOT by @fan-art-ic

[id under cut]

THE PRINCIPLES OF BEING AN UNTETHERED ZEALOT

if you stopped telling people it's all sorted out after they're dead,

they might try sorting it all out while they're alive.

I.

I grew up in a small room with white walls and grey floors, with plastic tables where I sat, making a cross from craft foam and a glue stick. An older lady named Mrs. K, or Ms. Z would tell the room about a man named Jesus, who died for our seven-year old sins of lying —about if we brushed our teeth— stealing —a french fry off a plate, and cheating —at monopoly.

I grew up in church after church after church, in car rides ten twenty and eighty minutes long, told that something holy exists, and how my mom may have cried out in pain as my head crowned, but there was a man in the sky who created me. I learned to recite words of punishment, the same words that the angels spoke at gomorrah, to earn pieces of candy and pocket-toys.

Until I was ten, I went to church. Then the bed called louder in the early morning hours, so I never went to Sunday school again. For over half of my life, I was told there was something righteous in the air, and something revenant in the water, and if I pried open my feral child heart to let the Lord in, I would not be damned, tortured, and abandoned to eternal agony in death.

II.

I’m not sure exactly, of how to explain this: I don’t believe in God, I believe in GOD in People. I believe in the pain of kneeling before something Bigger. I believe in how sunlight burns my skin like a cherub’s sword. I believe in the community of Same Heart and Faith. I believe in how hair glows like a halo under streetlights. I believe in the ineffability and complexity of a Humanity.

Does this make sense?

Does you witness the way my heart is bruised before you?

The LORD is my SHEPHERD, I shall not want— but I shall need and do need. I need so desperately. I own a gaping, aching need to fill myself with a Truth, a Truth that’s been left unfilled but created from hours of study, hunched over silk-thin paper and imprinting into my child mind the grief of Mary, the faith of Abraham, and the belief of Paul.

I ask myself —the hole asks itself— what about the tragedy of Emmanuel? Carpenter, friend, son, and Son? Whispered to by a man who called Himself “Father”, who ordered young Emmanuel to bleed and strip himself —hanging bone-splintered above his mother and city— humble to save his neighbors, his heroes, his mother and father?

I ask myself —the hole asks itself— what about the tragedy of Job? Faithful, beautiful Job, ever servant to his God, and suffered endlessly and countlessly as a test of his belief. His children dead and friends’ backs turned on him —blaming words like knives under his shoulder blade— now a man with nothing, toyed with by his God, who already knew Job would remain to any length in His name.

I ask myself —the hole asks itself— what about the tragedy of Lucifer? God’s right-hand, most beloved as all? Wings that glimmered and made sinless —for sin was not yet invented— angels shiny with awe? Lucifer Morningstar, named so for being full of light, bright and beautiful as the dawning sun painting color across the brand new sky, who God designed to have the tint of pride, to have thoughts God would not like, and who was destined to burn from curiosity into something dark, twisted, ashen, disturbed?

I cannot believe in God, for He would take my belief and grasp it with both hands and twist and yank and distort me into another story for a seven-year old child to be told in a room with white walls and grey floors.

III.

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines religious as: ‘relating to or manifesting faithful devotion to an acknowledged ultimate reality or deity // a religious person // religious attitudes 2 : of, relating to, or devoted to religious beliefs or observances //joined a religious order 3a : scrupulously and conscientiously faithful b : FERVENT, ZEALOUS’

I have faithful devotion to: -Doodling on tests and quizzes and legal documents -Staying up late to read yet another chapter -Finishing shows (unless I get bored mid-episode in which I never finish it) -A love of cats -Respecting my mother -Disrespecting my father (subtly though, I don’t want to get smacked again) -Writing bad poetry -Writing half-bad prose -Ordering the same food every time (because experience has taught me that the familiar is better)

I wouldn’t call myself [SCRUPULOUS] or [CONSCIENTIOUS], but I will accept, defend, and fight for [b: FERVENT, ZEALOUS]. I am this quiet, barren thing, dull as the metal hull of Oppenheimer’s pride. In my third eye I am Powerful and Strong and Shiny new like the metal glint of a knight with armor polished, my sword strung at the hip.

My child heart rests dormant in my chest and feral in my memories. Memories of bashing a head against a church floor, of a heady violent form taking hold of my dirty, grubby fingers.

IV.

The LORD became God when Man forgot to write about how the LORD wept for his Children on the Eighth Day.

V.

I haven’t touched the ground today. I was too busy noticing the angels who sat on the park bench talking about deadlines and soul quotas. The same cigarette touched their not-lips and the one with muddy shoes flicked the doggend onto the sidewalk, grinding it into ash with his heel.

I heard one say that love isn’t Love —I could hear the capital in his voice— and the other snorted, a strange trill echoing from his inhuman fleshy throat. “What’s the difference, then?” he asked. “love is a service, a loan with one-hundred-and-ten interest.” My toes brushed the dirt and the first angel kept talking: “Love is a selfish act mangled and chewed and torn, it hurts worse than a Fall and is worth more than Grace.”

“I don’t get it, both sound fucking awful,” the other angel said.

“It’s called free will.”

They began a new cigarette and I started to walk again. I think I learned something there, in the park, near those angels. I think I saw the ash grey halos and heard human things for ethereal beings, and understood how the wine-dark of the sea crashes so brutally over the cliffs, drawing artists and writers to its beat, begging to be seen in its violent shores.

VI.

When I was twelve, I tried to touch God. I rode in tense silence, ten minutes there, ten minutes back, to a youth group at a big, white church that had a parking lot so big, I would collapse racing kids one end to the other. I stood in the gym where other twelve-year olds threw footballs and frisbees and free advice, before the pastor would give God’s advice after we all stood for five songs of worship to God, blessing him for shelter, food, water, life, for the absence of pain and presence of joy.

My feet ached and my baby soul hurt, wretched from the inability to embrace the Word of God from the mouths of people who preached kindness and then placed me in groups of kids during activities, where I became a specter: a disheveled, nail-chewing, hair band-snapping, too-solid ghost.

I abandoned church at age sixteen. I tried to find God in the evergreens and mountain air and streaking skies. When my counselor asked if everyone in the tent believed in God, I said maybe. I wanted to be honest and brave, knighted in Truth. What I got was an interrogation, a smiting on those wooded hidden paths, with commands of faith poured down my gasping throat and my pinched nose.

God is the name of justification, and I could not find Him for my own Justice.

VII.

When I was a child, I was told of a resolution, solution, dissolution of all worries, fears, trappings of the human sickness. I was told of Something not greater, but Bigger then my whole world —granted, a seven-year old’s world is the size of an oyster, with them as the pearl— that dealt in a hand of cards with each suit a different type of miracle. My mind was imprinted on with the imagery, the shining glory, of angels and wings and chariots, who swept man off his feet to spit Words of Truth, handpiece to God and examples to look up to —but no one ever mentioned how Moses was buried in the sand.

The neural pathways for divine faith have been ordered, constructed, red ribbon cut, all for no crowd to show up. I have an illness that requires an intervention of a LORD on HIGH, but all I have are the echoes of a Man’s God being read to a group of children in a white room with grey floors.

#poetry #religious poetry #queer poets on tumblr #my writing #religious poem #so uh. here's this i suppose #the formatting is a lil wonky but hopefully not too wonky for it to be problem

[keensers]

um ok so ive been thinking about this and dont have any definite answers for now so. what do you think thomas is like now, post-canon, after those 10 years? i am so in love w james and him reuniting and learning to love each other for the people they've become but in thomas' case i'm not exactly sure Who that person is.

WELL anon you certainly don’t fuck around. that’s a very good question and i’m afraid i’m going to give a not-particularly-satisfactory answer, but the only answer i have is this: i think his key qualities have largely remained the same. just as i think “flint” has always been a part of “mcgraw” and separating the two is impossible (star trek tos 1.05 “the enemy within,” anyone?) i also think that thomas post-finale is still idealistic, manipulative, snarky, sort of a dick, and also incredibly kind. what has probably changed is the RATIO of those things - i think now he probably thinks a little more before speaking. his edges are probably sharper and less polished. the ratio of “being a dick” to “being a kind person” in particular has probably tilted slightly in favor of being a dick after having almost everything torn away from him. his idealism has probably taken the most major hit, though not a fatal one (hope is such a strange, insidious thing). my personal headcanon is that he’s come to terms with the notion of incremental change mostly because he’s HAD to; i think if you put him next to flint at the head of that army in season 4, he’d damn well still lead it (dreams, too, are insidious things).

but essentially all we know about thomas in those “lost years” is that 1. he probably did spend SOME time in bethlem and 2. he’s been on that plantation for at least a few years (likely since peter’s ‘lmao he’s dead sry’ letter to james and miranda). we don’t know if he knew that james and miranda were alive (probably not), we don’t know if he ever tried to escape (maybe), we don’t even know for sure who got him to that plantation in the first place (peter? his dad? some combination of the two? hennessey??? jk that’s too wild a conspiracy theory even for me). WE KNOW NOTHING! so i’m gonna go with the notion that “nothing so fundamental changes so quickly” - obviously, ten years isn’t “changing quickly” but i don’t think he’s a Different Person. i think we can safely draw a line from 1705 to 1716 and project a moderately-but-not-entirely changed person; the reason we CAN draw that line is that 1716 thomas was 1705 thomas once.

i also feel pretty comfortable in saying that he probably did a lot of soul-searching in bethlem and then on the plantation (e.g. “was i wrong? was my plan really that crazy? was it worth the sacrifices we made?”), and landed on “i wasn’t wrong, i wasn’t crazy, the world was wrong for the sacrifices it forced on me, and society was crazy for deeming me so.” his whole credo of “know no shame” surely comes from his own bloody-minded self-assuredness, that whole “i see the goal and i see the path and by god i’m going to walk it until i get there and i don’t care what anyone thinks of that” thing. and, as i said in this meta earlier, thomas is an idealist with a mile-wide stubborn streak. the thomas we saw in flashbacks wouldn’t fold, and he wouldn’t give up, he would get fucking angry. unlike james, though, whose anger means to (and almost does) set england on fire, i think thomas would far more quietly sharpen his own anger into a new plan, a new goal, a new path. i think he and james are getting the hell off that plantation and i think thomas is going right back to his world-saving, just from a position of more caution and significantly less influence. (but that’s okay. he’ll build it back up.)

#me: im not gonna write more than 200 words this time #me: [this] #black sails #thomas hamilton #bs meta #guess what guys im Back On My Bullshit #ask #old man yells at cloud.jpg #Anonymous #as arabella pointed out i haven't even touched on the idea of thomas having james but not miranda back #which i actually think would add to his World-Changing Anger #that's still a pretty big emotional wound to essentially re-open and re-grieve

[winnwinn-moved]

secret garden

yuta - 2263 - angst

terminal illness tw

    yuta considers meeting you one of the best days of his entire life. and even now, as he sits at your bedside, tightly clasping your cold hand in his own, he can remember the day with perfect clarity.

    it had been a chilly february day, with temperatures nearly below freezing thanks to the windchill. to this day, yuta doesn’t have any sort of explanation of why he would wander outdoors in such weather, other than fate was having its way with him. but for some reason another, god only knows why, yuta had ventured out into the great wild world. the great wild world being his tiny suburban neighborhood, where was currently staying with two others boys, sicheng and taeyong. despite the gusty winds breathing down his neck, and the tiny snowflakes that decorated the sidewalk, yuta refused to head back inside, instead drawing his hand-knit scarf from back home closer to his face.

    yuta had never been to the community park before that day. it’s a tiny park, with cherry blossoms and weeping willows and one hundred forty year old wisterias lining the perimeter, secluding the entire park from the outside world. cobblestone paths spiral through the grass too. previously, some kind soul had taken the time to adorn the park with various flowers as well, from roses, to peonies, to camellias, creating a picturesque scene taken right out of an enchanted fairytale. but of course, when yuta had stumbled across the park, all signs of life were dead, save the giant pond in the middle of the park, which seemed to be teeming with geese.

    yuta remembers being drawn to the pond, to the way the sun reflected on the clear water, the reeds blew along with the wind. there was nobody else in sight, or so yuta believed, and so he hurried over to check out the sight for himself. curiously, he had leaned closer to the water’s surface, examining himself in the reflection.

    what had become of his life? thousands of miles away from home, rooming with two others from different countries, a broke politics student… yuta could hardly claim that his life was where he had ever expected it to be. yuta couldn’t complain, and he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but ponder on what if? what if he had stayed in japan? what if he had gone on to play professional soccer? what if he had settled down with someone and-

    a loud splash awoke yuta from his thoughts. quickly, he stood up straight, glancing around the park to figure out where the noise had come from. to his surprise, he discovered someone standing on the opposite edge of the pond. there they crouched, peering into the water’s edge, beckoning to a fluffy duckling that had swam up close to the shore’s edge. the person giggled, and tossed a piece of bread the duckling’s way. yuta couldn’t help but smile at that. with a peaked interest in the newcomer’s activities, yuta found himself watching as they fed the ducks one by one, and eventually, the geese as well.

    but everyone knows that geese aren’t the kindest of creatures. yuta knew better than to get involved in other people’s business, but he didn’t need to be a witness to the first ever murder by goose. not thinking twice, yuta sprinted over to the other side of the lake, impulsively tugging the person away from the swarm of geese gathered merely feet away.

    “they’re going to bite you.” yuta had said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

    “but they’re hungry.” you had replied, giving him a cautious once over.

    “but you’re going to get bitten.”

    yuta realized how creepy he must have sounded, but something about you stopped from apologizing and fleeing the scene. maybe it was the way the snow dusted your frame, making you appear to be a winter angel. maybe it was the spark in your eyes, that screamed passion and fire and life. or maybe it was the way that you had taken the time to care for the lowliest of creatures that caused his heart to run a marathon. embarrassed, yuta put his hand on the back of his neck, finding a sudden interest in his scuffed up converse. you two remained silent for a few moments, though it wasn’t awkward. rather, it was peaceful, as if the both of you subconsciously understood the importance of this meeting.

    finally, yuta has broken the silence. with a gulp, he dared to look back up at you, only to find you already staring over at him. he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he internally scolded himself, reminding himself that sicheng was the one who flustered over everything, not him. regardless, yuta found his blush only growing when you smile his way, and yuta swore that your smile outshone the sun. he offered you a small grin, and soon you two were laughing amongst yourselves.

    geese squawked around the both of you, egging yuta on “speak, speak, speak!”. yuta found his voice stolen from his throat though, and he lamely turned his head so he wouldn’t have to introduce himself. last thing he needed was for his voice to crack… you on the other hand, seemed press to make his acquaintance, and with a newfound confidence, you introduced yourself, smiling once again.

    “oh uh…” he trailed off. “yuta. nakamoto yuta. live in those apartments like five minutes from here?”

    he wondered why he would share that information with you. his face heats up again and he shoved his hand into his pockets. you laughed, nudging him playfully. yuta was surprised by the sudden contact, but it felt… natural, and yuta decided he wouldn’t mind seeing you a bit more after that.

    and so the two of you exchanged numbers. and after that, the two of you ventured back to your houses, waving goodbye with cheerful grins and pink chins. a week later, yuta had asked you on a date, yes, a date-date, to get sushi down a little hole in the wall he claimed was almost as good as the places back home. you chose the next datem bowling, and there yuta got to witness a competitive streak that rivaled his own. one date led to another, and soon dates turned into something more, and before you and yuta realized what had happened, you were moving in together, leaving sicheng and taeyong to hide snickers behind sniffles as yuta lugged his suitcase out the door.

    but then you had gotten the diagnosis. and suddenly giggles were transformed into sobs, and smiles replaced with tears, and no longer was the little apartment with the yellow shutters occupied much anymore. yuta’s picture frames filled with scenery from home found their place on the hospital nightside, along with his clothes, his textbooks, his time. when he could, his bed was your cot, and his desk the chair at your side. the once eager and excitable yuta, who was already ready to debate on issues of morality and politics during class, began to hardly show up, coming with heavy bag under his eyes whenever he did. the hospital staff soon were able to address him by name, and soon, yuta learned their favorite coffee orders by heart.

    and now… now yuta holds your hand tightly, with such a strength to you think he might break your bones.

    “please…” you repeat your question from before, the question that caused yuta to stop and think on that fateful winter day. “oh yuta…”

    he cannot bear to hear you talk. your voice, once so filled with life, now shakes with every word, slowly slipping away whenever you push yourself to speak. yuta shushes you with a kiss to your knuckles. his gaze never leaves you. he gives your hand another squeeze.

ever since the diagnosis, he promised himself he would stay strong for you. and yuta likes to think that he has been strong. his tears are in quiet, his screaming late at night when nobody is awake to comfort him. his ramblings to god remain inside his head too. he doesn’t want you to worry about him, because last thing you need right now is to worry about him of all people. he’s supposed to be your hero, your safety, your hope during this time, and if that means bottling up his feelings, he will do it. he would do anything for you.

but completing your one final request, well that’s not really up to yuta. at this late in the illness, you can hardly stand, let alone make the journey to the park where you and yuta first met. but you continue to insist on visiting, and have been for the last two weeks, and yuta’s heart cracks a bit more whenever he has to deny your request. he’s been trying, hard, to get the hospital to approve your leave for just an hour, but things are complicated. too complicated. yuta can’t even begin to imagine what would happen if you were unhooked from the iv tubes. you already struggle to find the energy to sit yourself up without them. yuta can’t subject you to that kind of torment. he won’t.

“but that’s…” your voice grows faint, and your eyelids flutter shut.

yuta is used to this kind of thing, but he can’t deny the way his heart jumps into his throat when you stop speaking. the constant beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor reassures him however, if only for a bit. it’s a sound yuta has gotten used to, a sound yuta thinks his sanity must depend on. at first, it was scary, horrifying, uncertain, but now yuta thinks his world will fall apart if the sound ever stops ringing in his ears.

but his world will also fall apart if he fails to make you happy, and the only thing you’ve been talking about forever now is that damned garden, and it hurts yuta knowing that achieving your joy is close enough to taste, yet far enough away that it slips through his fingers. yuta is determined to let you see the park once more, but the odds are against him, and he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be able to make you truly happy.

“please yuta… i just want to see where our story started before it en-”

“i told you not to talk like that.” yuta whispers, brushing the hair from your eyes. “we need to stay positive, my love, me and you can take the world together, don’t you remember that promise?”

you nod slightly, a smile tugging at your lips, but it fades away, as does your concentration, and soon you return to your dozing. if yuta can call it that. he doesn’t know if you’re awake or not during times like these. he knows better than to ask. with a sigh, he scooches closer to you, his foreign policy lecture notes discarded on the floor around him. what is he going to do? how is he going to fulfill your dying wish?

suddenly, an idea strikes yuta, and he finds himself astounded he hadn’t considered the idea before. he can’t help but beam. how was the answer so simple, yet so hard to find? there’s not really time to think hard on his stupidity though. if yuta wants to make this really happen, he’ll need all the help he can get. so with a kiss to the top of your head, yuta pushes himself from his chair, racing out the door.

you wake up the next morning, feeling more fatigued than ever before. it takes a while for you to open your eyes, but when you do, you immediately close them again. you’re dreaming. you must be dreaming. to check again, you open your eyes once more. a small giggle escapes your lips, and then another, and soon you are laughing harder than you have in months.

“whoa whoa, don’t work yourself too hard there, darling.”

you glance over, weakly reaching out for yuta. he takes your hand and interlocks your fingers, his cheeks pink like they were the first date you two met. you smile softly and give his hand a feeble squeeze.

“oh it’s beautiful…” you breathe.

and it is. your room is filled with flowers, big beautiful flowers that can only be for one place and one place alone. the roses, red and white in color, rest at the foot of your bed. yellow tulips reside in a vase on your side table. a garland of posies hangs up atop the window, pink and shining in the sun. the lilacs are to your right, and the gardenias to your left, and in front of you is basket upon basket filled with lilies, sunflowers, and hydrangeas. the flowers overwhelm the deathly white of the hospital walls, transporting you to a place of tranquility and safety. slowly, you reach over with shaking hands, fingers brushing over the petals of an especially large aster.

“you didn’t…”

he smiles, grabbing something from down at his feet. in his hand are two flower crowns, woven together with daisies and begonias. gently, yuta places the crown atop your head, leaning down and kissing you softly after he does. he then puts on his own crown, laughing under his breath after he does.

“i told you i would make you happy…” yuta murmurs, thumbing the back of your hand.

you shake your head, tears brimming your eyes. “oh yuta… you’ve already made me the happiest person in the world…”

#yuta drabble #yuta scenarios #yuta scenario #nakamoto yuta #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 #yuta angst #nct angst #ahh sorry this took so long #i hope its what you wanted #ahhhhh

[inspectorboxer]

World on Fire

by Inspector Boxer

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex/Maggie

Rating: T

Author’s notes: This is a prompt fill for @quinnsexriot who requested prompt #10, “Did you really think I’d just give up?” This one got a bit angsty and intense, but it’s got a happy ending. Hope you like it. :)

Thanks to @zennie-fic for the quick beta.

****

Maggie struggled toward consciousness. She was warm, unbearably so, sweat slick on her body beneath her clothes, and the world waiting for her on the other side of the darkness was deadly.

A loud groan followed by a worrisome cracking finally jarred her leaden eyelids open, and Maggie woke to a world on fire.

“Alex?” Maggie whispered, struggling to sit up. Her legs were pinned by something heavy, and panic stirred in her chest, chasing away the mental cobwebs and sharpening her senses. “Alex!” she called out with a little more volume, glancing around for her girlfriend and finding nothing but destruction and flames. She drew in a deep breath of the heated air, choking on ash and smoke. “Alex!”

The old apartment building. The alien they’d chased inside. The trap they’d walked right into. It came back to her in a sick rush when she remembered the fire, Alex pushing her out of the way to save her.

“Maggie!” Alex suddenly yelled back, somewhere close, the distress in her voice agitating Maggie further, but at least she knew the other woman was alive.  

Wooden timbers dropped from the ceiling with a boom, embers shooting skyward at the impact, and the floor vibrated ominously under her. Maggie struggled to get up again. She had to get out of there. She had to get Alex out of there.

Maggie turned to assess what was holding her down and discovered something far more concerning. A section of floor had given way behind her, opening a gaping chasm to the ground four stories below. It glowed with fire, smoking drifting toward the ceiling, looking for all the world like a pit straight to hell.

“Shit,” Maggie hissed. Where was Supergirl when you needed her?

With the world burning down around her, Maggie twisted, trying to pull her legs free. Pain exploded in her right ankle and she grimaced, clenching her teeth, but she kept fighting, desperate to get to Alex.

“Maggie!” Alex abruptly stumbled out of the destruction, her features streaked with soot and marred by scratches, and Maggie’s nearly collapsed at seeing her alive and whole.

Palms on the floor, Maggie had to shift to her elbows as the surface became too hot to touch. “I’m pinned,” she warned Alex. “Get help!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex shot back, ripping off her tactical vest and tossing it aside. Her features were drenched in sweat and she coughed as she edged closer, trying to find a way around the debris and flames to get them out.

Several floorboards splintered under Alex’s feet and fell away, forcing the agent to retreat from her chosen path. Alex swore as the holes revealed the inferno below them. She froze, the remaining wood creaking threateningly. The joists wouldn’t hold much longer.

Maggie stared at the other woman, a strange mixture of calm and grief descending upon her as she accepted her fate, watching as Alex searched frantically for a way to get to her.

There was none.

Maggie hated that she didn’t get more time. She hated that she wouldn’t live to see where this amazing thing she shared with Alex would lead them, but she was grateful she’d tasted it, that she’d known what it meant to fall in the kind of love that could have lasted a lifetime.

“Alex…” Maggie pleaded calmly, tears blurring her vision and choking the back of her throat as fire raged around them. “The floor is gonna go, babe. You need to get back.”

“Like hell,” Alex snarled.

“Think of Kara. She needs you. I need you to live, Alex. Please…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex said again, her own features contorting in pain as their gazes met and held. “I can’t.”

“Alex…”

Ignoring her, Alex got down on her stomach and started inching closer, trying to displace her weight. Even when the floor cracked and splintered, dropping several inches, Alex never wavered, and Maggie realized whatever happened next, Alex was determined they would be in it together.

“No,” Maggie shouted. “Alex, no!”

Alex kept coming. She was too close now, her hand inches from Maggie’s own. “Damnit, Danvers! Get back!”

There was a loud boom below, and Maggie knew in her guts it was the end. She closed her eyes, unable to watch Alex die.

Fingers slippery with sweat and soot wrapped around Maggie’s wrist as something shattered below them. The floor tipped, and the heavy object pinning Maggie’s leg fell away. A moment later she followed, plunging toward the fire below.

Alex never let go.

****

The low murmur of voices slowly ebbed into Maggie’s awareness. She groaned softly. Her head throbbed and her lungs ached, but she willed her eyes open, wincing at the ceiling that came into focus. It was sad she recognized the view. She was in the medical bay at the DEO.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Maggie tried to sit up, ripping off the oxygen mask she found over her nose and mouth. “Alex?”

Someone shushed her gently, and a warm, firm hand on her shoulder urged her back onto the bed. “She’s okay.”

There was no resisting that pressure, and Maggie dropped her head back on the pillows, never happier to see the Girl of Steel at her side.

“She’s okay,” Supergirl said again with a reassuring smile. “Something tells me she’ll be even better now that you’re awake.”

Maggie squinted into the lights. “You saved us, huh?”

Supergirl hesitated before she slowly nodded, and Maggie saw a glimpse of remembered terror in her eyes. “Caught you both just in time and flew you to the DEO. You missed the ride, Detective,” she teased.

“Alex?” Maggie needed her, and she didn’t give a damn if that made her weak.

“I sent her to get cleaned up. Told her I’d watch you.” Supergirl’s blue eyes were kind and full of concern. She tipped her head slightly, listening. “Here she comes, though. I knew she’d hurry.”

“I told you to come get me,” Alex huffed, moving quickly to Maggie’s side. Her hair was still wet from the showers, and the scratches on her features were more vivid without the soot to disguise them.

The sight of her was better than a sedative for calming Maggie down, and she closed her eyes in simple relief. They weren’t done. Not yet. Hopefully not for a very long time.

“She just woke up, dummy.” Supergirl nevertheless grinned as Alex started fussing over her girlfriend, checking Maggie’s ankle, followed by her IV, and finally reaching up to run one of her hands through Maggie’s hair.

“You okay?” Alex whispered.

“Yeah,” Maggie breathed, opening her eyes again to stare at Alex for a long, charged moment. Even injured, exhausted, and worried, Alex Danvers was the most beautiful thing Maggie had ever seen. “But for the record? You’re an idiot.”

Supergirl snorted in amusement only to get a scathing glare from Alex.

“Wow. Okay,” Kara drawled. “I can see I’m no longer needed.” Supergirl smiled at them both, warmth and affection heavy in her gaze. Maggie captured Supergirl’s hand before she could turn and leave, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Thanks. For everything,” Maggie added. Supergirl glanced at Alex, her gaze softening before it returned to Maggie. “Anytime,” she murmured. “Glad you’re okay.”

Alex suddenly looked a little more contrite. “I’ll come find you later,” she promised.

Supergirl nodded and left them alone.

“She’s got damn good timing, huh?” Maggie smiled.

“You have no idea,” Alex said around a weak laugh.

Maggie leaned into Alex’s touch as the other woman cupped her cheek, savoring the familiar calluses on Alex’s palm, the living warmth of her skin. “You okay?” Alex repeated quietly.

“Am now. Although I’ve got a headache and my ankle throbs like a bitch.”

Alex smiled, but Maggie could see fear lingering in her eyes. It had been close. Too close.

Maggie tilted her head, studying her lover critically. She scooted over and patted the bed beside her. “Sit down before you fall down, hon.”

The soft term of endearment never failed to bring a smile to Alex’s lips, and this time was no exception. Gingerly, Alex sat, and Maggie wondered what kind of injuries Alex was keeping from her.

“What about you?”

Alex shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal.” She swallowed and looked down as Maggie threaded their fingers together. “This…” Alex tightened her grip. “This is all I need to feel better,” she confessed.

“You’re an idiot,” Maggie reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alex.”

“Did you really think I’d just give up?” Alex chided. “Knowing you were in there? That you could be hurt? That you could be…?” She looked away, swallowing roughly as a few agents walked past the medical bay, laughing at a private joke.

Maggie stared at Alex’s proud profile. No one had ever put themselves on the line for her like that. No one. “You were willing to fall with me,” Maggie whispered, slightly awed.

Alex’s head whipped back around at the words. She shrugged, the motion jerky. “I knew Supergirl…”

“No you didn’t,” Maggie countered, easing back against the pillows again. “I saw the look in your eyes, Alex. You made the choice…” Her voice broke.

“I couldn’t…” Alex sighed. “I didn’t want to come out of there without you,” she ground out, her voice wavering. “So yeah. I was willing to fall with you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Considering I already fell for you once…” she added, her tone a little lighter, “the second time seemed like a piece of cake.”

Maggie rolled her eyes even though she was secretly charmed. “I love you,” she breathed, saying the words she’d been holding back for several weeks now. Alex predictably melted at the declaration, and the emotion Maggie felt for the amazing woman at her side only grew stronger and sweeter at the sight.

“Maggie…”

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” Maggie told her. “I just… I wanted you to know that. You deserve to know that.”

Warm lips on her own meant everything until Alex spoke. “I love you too.”

Maggie tugged on Alex’s shirt, encouraging her to curl around her on the small gurney. They snuggled together, warm, close, and alive. Despite the hell they’d just been through, they’d found a slice of heaven at the end of it.

#sanvers #alex x maggie #alex danvers #maggie sawyer #supergirl #prompt

[xpwewarchive]

XPWEW Friday Night Pyro (1-3-2020)

XPWEW Friday Night Pyro

January 3rd, 2020

Houston, Texas in The Fertitta Center

*Show intro*

Golden Bryce enters the ring to a pretty good pop, he’s popular here as the New International Champion (instant replay shows how he defeated Slayer for it last week at the 2019 Xtremey Awards edition of Pyro)

Golden Bryce enters the ring with microphone in hand and hyped up the Houston crowd to his dismay he is interrupted by The XPWEW World Champ Champagne Clausen who enters wearing Louis Vuitton red bottom shoes and a canary suit, looks pretty G I’ll admit it.

-Champagne says Golden Bryce is just like Deshaun Watson of the Houston Texans, *crowd boos* Unproven and Overrated. *crowd boos*

And as a man from upstate New York, myself I am very excited to see my Buffalo Bills beat you guys tomorrow ha ha ha *crowd boos* BILLS MAFIA!

Golden Bryce smiles and nods “Champagne if I’m the Houston Texans then maybe you are the Buffalo Bills, maybe that’s applicable because just like Bill Mafia I think you’d look a hell of a lot better going through a table *crowd cheers*

Champagne “HA HA HA! Yeah Houston laugh it up, yeah look at you Bryce so pathetic, clinging on with sports jokes, timely references to draw the ire of this crowd here. Truth is nobody likes you and everyone here is tired of you and I know we haven’t been properly introduced but I’ll do that now. I’m Champagne Clausen. I’m YOUR world champion. I’m (SHUT UP!) I’m Houston’s world champion and I am not scared of your challenge. As a matter of fact I endorse it. I’ve beaten Masato Tanaka twice on pay-per-view! Okay I beat the lovable moron Freight Train last week, I even did something you didn’t Bryce (heh) I actually beat Jake Awesome. (Crowd ooos)

Bryce: “So what’s the deal are we doing a Tables match?” (Crowd pops)

Champagne “On God. On Bills Mafia as my witness...You’re damn right” (Champagne cheers his world title with Bryce’s I-N title around his waist) *walks away*

-Ethan Bedlam already in the ring, loosening up and hyping himself up

Garrett Thompson enters

M1: (((Squash Match)))

Garrett Thompson defeats Ethan Bedlam

After the match: All Man comes out with All Woman and goes to speak towards GT but Scott Steiner jerks the mic right out of his hand *Big Pop*

Scott Steiner: “Houston! We have a problem that crumpet and tea drinking big bastard wants a piece of the biggest arms in the world! Ha I’ll break your back you goof!

((Garrett yelling obscenities))

Steiner continued: “All my freaks here wanna see the Big Bad Booty Daddy put a beatdown on some punk that’s why you better find a partner or else get slumped by me and the All man, or just fold like a b**ch (crowd pops)

GG enters and starts punching All Man and Scott Steiner and GT runs up to the ramp and we have an impromptu 2 on 2 right now

M2: Tag Team Match

GT & GG defeat Scott Steiner & All Man w/ All Woman

The match ends when GT hits Steiner with the elbow smash to which GG hits his finisher “The Plunge” off the top rope for the 1-2-3 - All Woman was just a little too slow to break up the count and the tag division might just have a new team in GT & GG (Quite odd bedfellows)

Backstage: James Westerbeck is here for an interview with John Oliver and John just says he’s happy to be here on Friday Night Pyro and since doing his segment on professional wrestling on his show “Last Week Tonight” a few months ago he’s become obsessed with the culture and it’s just a thank you fest until women’s Champ Amy Lee enters with Brian Lee behind her (silent). Amy says she doesn’t like when people who aren’t wrestlers get involved in her business. Oliver makes a quick wit joke “I don’t like when people who aren’t talented at communication get involved in the act” *crowd oohs*

Amy: “Are you calling me stupid? I could break your little ass in half boy”

Lola Starr enters “John, I love your show I watch it every week. I respect your open minded opinions”!

Amy towards Lola: “What the hell do you think your doing freak!”

Lola Starr: “I’m stepping up and ive been here for months and I’ve yet to be given opportunity, being showcased. It’s like I got signed because of the headline. Yes. I’m trans and yes I identify as a woman and yes I am going to challenge you for that title. Tonight.

Amy (looks at Brian Lee)....You got it, let’s see what you goin. (Amy looks at John Oliver and gives him a huge dramatic pull in sloppy kiss).....

Leonard, Dragon and Ms. Ryu enter

Joe Gacy, Brodie Croyle & Kiera Hogan enter

M3: Non Title Match

Leonard McGraw & Dragon Kid (c) vs The Plagueground w/ Kiera Hogan

(((ENDS IN NO CONTEST)))

Match abruptly ends when 3M Ultra comes out and attacks Croyle and Gacy for revenge on them injuring his partner M3 Quintillo last week, He beats them both down with his XTREMEY award and at the climax breaks it over Kiera Hogan’s skull (rough spot)

3M Ultra angrily grabs the mic and says last week my partner was decimated for absolutely no reason by these a**h****s and then the damn company that I bust my ass for gave me that trophy! Really? “The WOAT award” Is this a joke? Get that camera up close I will be taking seriously

Leonard McGraw stances up “Son, do you wanna be taking seriously?”

3M Ultra “Hell Yes!”((Leonard McGraw decks him with a buckshot clothesline) crowd pops huge

McGraw: “I don’t give a damn if it’s Plagueground, The Larva, GT, GG, All Man, All Woman, Kiera Hogan, Hulk Hogan I’m fixin’ to whoop some ass and I’ll do it on anybody who wants smoke. And I got two words for every son of a bitch in the back F*** You

(((McGraw does the hook’em horns and the Houston crowd pops huge)))

Backstage: Doxy Deity is talking sweet and cute-like with Jordan Oliver until Ruckus, Siaka & Chrissy Rivera Walk up

Ruckus “I ain’t tryna buss on ya but bitches really just waste your time pimp”

Doxy “who the f*** you calling a bitch, m*****f*****?”

Ruckus: Hoe don’t give me no nut roll

Jordan: Ruckus bro don’t man it ain’t necessary for all this beef right now

Ruckus: Nigga I’m trying to win titles ok and if we gonna be a team I need to make sure you got Noooooooo distractions and Dox, I, I, I, I respect you, you know what I’m saying but my boy here is young, he dumb and he over this (crowd laughs). Listen pimp I don’t care what y’all do, I might even get Chrissy to watch, shit but I wanna win gold and if you ain’t trying to do that, Then I might have to dip and go solo and get mines cause best believe Ima get mines.....

Rosemary walks by McGraw and Dragon Kid quickly and comes to the aid of Kiera Hogan her just got blasted in the head by 3M Ultra with his “WOAT” Xtremey Award..

Slayer enters

Dramatic pause between entrances because the crowd knows this is CJ’s final match

))((Chris Johnson Career Retrospective Video Plays))((

Chris Johnson enters the ring; one final time to his old theme song “Stay Fly by Three 6ix Mafia”

Chris Johnson’s wife Erin Brown aka Misty Mundae is in the front row of the ramp way and he kisses her forehead during his entrance

Retirement Match

M4: Slayer w/ Rosemary & Kiera Hogan defeats Chris Johnson

After the match and the loss the crowd pops for Chris Johnson

((THANK YOU CJ *clap clap clap clap*))

Chris Johnson grabs the mic: No complaints about the match, No complaints about this crowd, No complaints, No excuses. Wherever we were, Whatever I did. I always left my blood and sweat on this canvas and I’m not gone, I’ll be around but this is my final night as an in-ring competitior and...

***lights go purple***

LOTUS enters

((Lotus walks into the ring and Chris Johnson looks around, perplexed and confused.))

((Lotus kicks Chris Johnson square in the groin))

{{Crowd oddly pops for it though, Houston is weird}}

LOTUS unmasks

Nick Simmonds on commentary : “ Katie, that’s. Wait that’s..that’s Slayer’s daughter Hazel! What the world!

Kaitlyn Khaos on commentary: “Nick, Hazel has a very very odd past with Chris Johnson”

Lotus looks at a downed Chris Johnson “Do you remember me!!!! The anguish and abuse you put me thorough!!! You tried to take me away from my family. You son of a bitch I’ve waited a long time to do this!!!”

((Slayer beaten up and Rosemary looking on from the corner of the ring))

LOTUS goes outside and grabs a steel chair and beats Chris Johnson with the steel chair over and over again repeatedly until eventually even Slayer and Rosemary try to get her to stop and LOTUS looks at Slayer and Rosemary then just whams Chris Johnson with the chair really hard one more time. *Crowd stunned*

Chris Johnson is lifeless in the ring

LOTUS exits slowly by herself and then walks by Erin Brown (the wife of Chris Johnson). Drags her over the guardrail and starts pulling her hair and kicking her until Arena security gets involved and pulls LOTUS away kicking and screaming.

Advertisement: Golden Bryce and Dr. Disrespect “What is Twitch” commercial #2

HBO’s Last Week Tonight set up is put together pretty accurately in the ring

John Oliver enters

In ring segment: Welcome to Last Pyro, Tonight with John Oliver. Please welcome tonight’s guest the xpwew world champion Champagne Clausen

Oliver makes jokes at Champagne’s expense

Compares the vegetation of his father to the Brexit events

Regina Clausen is really the Ivanka Trump of XPWEW, because she’s talentless, has done nothing to earn her position, Only in said position because her father gave it to her and at times it looked like he wanted to have sex with her (crowd groans)

John Oliver runs down the numbers between Champagne’s 22-0 streak vs Jacques 89-0 streak.

John Oliver shows much sympathy for how the story of Freight Train has been one of hope and disaster

After sitting there for the most part taking in all of these insults Champagne sits up in his chair and Says

Champagne: “John I like you. I even like your show well I guess used to. I always start John Stewart did it better (crowd groans). John you come out here and mock my father, my sister. I don’t even care. They didn’t win this title for me. I wasn’t handed anything lest I remind you I worked very hard for the past 5 years to get to this level, to this stage. Hell, to even be in a monstrosity of a segment with someone like you John. And my answer is I don’t care. None of your jokes phase me. My dad is a vegetable. Yea. I drove my sister off the stage inside of a Pope mobile. I did that. John I’m not like a politician who will look you in the face and lie. I did these things. I’m glad my dad is in a coma. I’m happy my sister is damn near handicapped somewhere. And I’m freakin’ ecstatic that Freight Train’s Cinderella story last week came to a screeching hault.

John Oliver (was that pun intended?)

Golden Bryce enters

(Stage hands clear the Last Week Tonight set quickly but leave John Oliver’s table in the ring, this table match is gonna start

World Champ vs International Champ

Tables Match

M5: Champagne Clausen defeats Golden Bryce

(((John Oliver got mildly involved in the match but he didn’t take a bump, just ran away)))

The match ends when both men our on the top rope and Bryce was sizing up Champagne for the Super-Plex off the top rope and Champagne had the resilience to reverse it, slide down Bryce’s back and hoist him backward for the Electric Chair drop through the table and your winner Champagne Clausen!!!!

Champagne Clausen rolls out of the ring with ease and pushes over the John Oliver “Last Week Tonight” screen monitor then holds him world title up walking up the ramp as the show ends...

#xpwew #friday night pyro #chris johnson #lotus #jake aweosme #golden bryce #leonard mcgraw #champagne clausen #all man

[survivormarmoreal]

Episode #11: "okay so heres the tea mawmaw henny... anyways" - Bryce

I guess i wasnt right to be paranoid but doesnt feel good knowing your name was used as a fake target. I really want to win the next immunity but idk. Hopefully i can do well.

nick tried super hard that tribal i got a tiny bit nervous but i'm glad that things seem to be going pretty well and working themselves out with nathan brian and sharky but i feel like nathan's gonna be pretty upset with me after the season :(

Welp I blew another challenge. Good times. Hopefully Nathan won't win because I want him out next. Ideal boot order for me going forward is Nathan, Bryce, Maynor, Matt, Anna. So we'll see how this challenge shakes out and then I can create some beautiful mastermind plot to send his ass home. Tbh he's just gotten too shady. It seems like every round it gets back to me that Nathan has been working some plan that he never told me about. And Nick was always the leak so with him gone Idk how I can trust Nathan anymore. But I feel solid with The FB Bois and with Brian's steal a vote in his pocket we should be able to control the majority from here on out. There's a lot of "hopefully"s in my head right now.

The challenge didn't go so well because I was sleep deprived and reaction time was slow. I don't think Im going to win. It is crazy though that it is the Final 7 already. Im closely working with Nathan in this game. I would totally go to the end with him. This is where we can make a move to keep the majority. Nathan says he is able to get Annabelle's vote and I think I can get Bryce's vote which means that's 4 and enough to send either Matt, Sharky, or Brian home. It sucks cuz I'm also working with Sharky and Brian but both haven't really talked game game to me. They have told me the vote but not really strategy talk. So I feel like I rather side with Nathan, who actually talks to me about strategy. We have to wait and see who wins immunity to really make a plan for tribal.

i really wanted to uh win immunity but JKFASKJ guess thats never gonna happen. i was like how can anyone flop at this simon says game and well. love simon outsold... i want to get annabelle out this round but now it can be hard without the blanket of protection that immunity brings what if it backfires. we still have brians steal a vote tho so thats 3 votes and we'd only need one more barring another idol. speaking of idols i still have NOTHING.

Okay now I'm starting to feel a little guilty. Nathan just came to me stressing. He's never made it this far and he feels like he's so close but he's feeling the pressure to build his resume. I get all of those feelings. And I know if I'm the one to betray him and ruin his streak I stand no chance of getting his jury vote. I'm feeling so conflicted. Nathan is a threat and I can't trust him. But I finally understand why he's been such a mess throughout the merge. What do I do?

So remember how I said I felt bad for Nathan? OVER IT. So I wanted to vote him out this go around. But then I was unsure. And I told him it would be easiest to just vote Bryce. AND HE TOLD BRYCE. I'm over it. he's doing literally too much. He's never made it this far and it shows. Like scrambling and betraying your allies who had your back and EVEN FORGAVE YOU WHEN YOU LIED TO US. Like It's not cute.

ok so heres the tea mawmaw henny. ... anyways i um love stream of consciousness writing NNN so sharky doesnt trust me and wants me out but like everyone tells me why doesnt he trust me ive been nothing but honest anyways gays cant be trusted. but maynor sharky and anna wanna vote matt. and matt wants to vote maynor/anna and i wanna vote anna with brian so idk im just scared that if we use brians vote steal we'll be in danger at f6 maybe voting matt is smarter like if they just voted sharky id be down but i dont want to go into f6 with sharky AND nathan/anna

So I forgot to vote last round before I literally passed the fuck out after work... how sad!  Nick still did go, just like I had worked on... But I'm OK again because I won immunity //again// (a physical threat...) so therefore I'm safe for yet another round.  It's worrying because if I ever lose I become a huge target for the vote, and I think this round is very risky bisky.... but it'll also finally draw the final lines in the sand with people I want to go to the end with.

I've decided that Nathan's messiness and choice in allies is what strays me away from him.  I love Annabelle, but her relationship with Sharky is what deters me from going further with her.  I like Maynor, but his sketchiness during every tribal is what deters me from going further with him.  If Nathan got over his obsession with voting for Matt... Every.  Single.  Round... then maybe I'd feel better about this all.  If he threw out Sharky, then whew, let's do it!  Nathan is one of my favorite people ever, and he's so enjoyable to talk to... his big ass heart is what's making me feel so fucking bad about this decision, but I think it's what's best for me.

At the moment, I'm seeing a very iffy chance at winning come final tribal time, but I still have a fighting spirit to get there and to dominate final tribal.  I'm just worried about losing all respect from people like Nathan, Sharky, and Annabelle when I vote them out.  I know it's very plausible, so I have to start planning around that.  I have to be able to manage talking about a dominating game and also owning up to being shitty from time to time.

Ideally, I'll be sitting in final 4 with Bryce, Matt, and someone else (it's between Maynor and Nathan/Annabelle).  I know Sharky has to go, but I also have to be ready to work around him making finals with me.  Final 3 situation ideally would be with Matt and Bryce and then final 2 with whomever I see it easier to beat.  And that's all the tea I have for now.

To have tied in the immunity record and also be confirmed top 6... I'm so proud of myself and what I have done given all the time restraints I've had in this game so far.  It's impressive, if I do say so myself.  I really hope I can make people proud of me... and even if I go in 6th, I know I did the damnest fucking thing and fought my ass off.

Annajane, Matty, Jack, Jones, and Drew..., thank you for believing in me enough to cast me for this season.  I hope I don't let you guys down and haven't yet.

Marie, I hope I'm making you proud by still being here!!  I'm trying really hard every day to ensure one of us could do the damn thing.

Zacky, Tobi, Loris, Scott, Justin... and to really anyone out there rooting for me... thank you!  I may not know everyone who is rooting for me, but I really appreciate any support you've given me this season!!

So I think this vote might be the breaking point for me and Annabelle. If we're really coming after Nathan I can't tell her. I also told her that Matt's idol was the merge idol which isn't true. But the fact that she asked makes me think she doesn't know another idol is out there. Which is a great sign. I feel bad but I'm worried if she has to choose between me and Nathan she may choose Nathan. Ugh

God I am SO over these people! Like i seem to be the perpetual target every single round! And it is quite demoralising tbh. I seem to be the easy target cause Brian has immunity and Sharky has got close with Annabelle. and we 3 are a "trio!!!" who apparently need breaking up, even though nathan really needs to like fuck off out of here. I appreciate how hard the man is playing but he's just coming off as a dick now. As he has said, he wants to basically be fuck buddies with Brian to the end, which is not a cute look for him, riding Brians coat tails to the end where he will clearly be beaten. I am just SO over it. At least I _should_ be safe (and should is the correct term here) cause we will have bryce with us hopefully going into this vote but if i leave, i leave. I just want these people gone so I can have a stress free game for ONCE. Like please just fuck off out of here and LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE.

ok so idk whats going to happen sharky threw my name out but now says he didnt and since i want him to vote with me i just say oh ya ofc i believe u. like i want anna out but sharky/matt wants nathan and maynor/anna/nathan want matt. what about what *i* want...

Today is the day where Nathan and I take majority with Bryce and Annabelle anf get rid of Matt or our plans come crashing down in flames. Either way we are making a move. I just hope we prevail and things go our way and our plan doesnt leak.

brian is amazing i need another immunity win so we can just have ari stans only winning immunities. i'm nervous because like this tribal is like anyone can really go the next few rounds but i feel like people still don't think i'm a threat but idk we'll see this game is really like i'm not sure.  

So now Matt is pitching Maynor because we couldn't choose between Anna and Nathan. But they still want to keep it a secret. And that's a terrible idea. We're going to do all this lying and plotting and then vote out the smallest threat. That's a wasted opportunity. I could get behind voting for Maynor but I'm not going to lie to Anna to do it. Plus they want to do it for fear of advantages but like...if Anna or Nathan have anything they'll definitely use it at F6 if we lie to them about the vote. We're overcomplicating this.

ok so like im gone.. idk its so hard to know whos telling the truth. what if sharky leaks to anna i want her out. like anna/maynor/nathan SHOULD be doing matt which means that like as long as me and brian vote together ill at most have 2 votes against me so maybe 3-2-2 but i really trust matt so i feel like he'll vote with us. i really dont wanna vote nathan out when anna is still here... bc she'll go to sharky so quick and take maynor with her. im trying to think of damage control if things do go bad ill just have to tell nathan i wanted anna out bc i thought he was closer to her than me and then maynor idk what to say NNNN... also sharky made an alliance with me matt brian and him but didnt tell me before hand lol love that.. i feel like the abi maria of the season idk why... or like the gabby who doesnt get her way AJSDHFKJA so sad... anyway im a goner :(

It looks like Brian, Matt, and Sharky are voting Bryce. While they think Bryce will vote Sharky. Me, Nathan, Annabelle, and Bryce are doing Matt which will suprise them. I think imma have to do lots of damage control with Brian and Sharky cuz last time I voted differently than they did, Sharky was fine since it wasnt him but Brian was made he was lied to. So like oopsie. But hey its the game of survivor and sometimes you have to lie who ur voting for.

Okay so...I amde a questionable choice...a VERY questionable choice. I told Annabelle everything (almost). She came to me and confessed the Matt plan because she didn't want me to be blindsided. Which verified all me feeling about fighting to save her. So I told her the truth (almost). I said Bryce leaked all of that info to us. I told her the 4 of us came together. I didn't tell her we named it the Fajita Fellas. That's just for us. But then I told her that I had protected her and got the vote on Maynor. Now if there is an idol played it will be on Maynor and Nathan will still go home. I'll send her a PM during the voting and be like SOS it's switching to Nathan. That way I cover my ass. Now I'm just trying to calm Brian down because he is ANXIOUS. Can people just chill out

Nathan is voted out 4-3.

#episode #allmadhere

[cgpsimpromptu-blog]

Psychick (Pt. 2)

by Ben Togut

I awake in a green reclining chair in a whitewashed room smelling harshly of antiseptic. How cliché. The three small clocks above the door create a cacophonous ticking that make my head spin and my skin crawl. Finally, a fat nurse opens the door, waddles toward me, and starts interrogating me like the goddamn CIA.

“Name?

“Vera.”

“Vera what?

“Black. Vera Black.”

“Date of birth?”

“Why?”

She scowls at me before repeating herself.

“October 18th, 1977.”

“Next of kin?”

“Do I count?”

“Do you have anyone you’d like us to call? Your mother?”

“Yeah, like she’d take a three-hour flight to see me.”

“Father?”

“I don’t know my father.”

“Well, we have to release you to somebody.”

“I’m a grown ass adult. I can take care of myself.”

“Miss, you just had a concussion. We’re required to release you to somebody.”

I play dead, because I hear that helps if you want to avoid people, or make them shut up. It works, because she sighs and closes the door. How the hell am I going to get out of here? If no one shows up to get me, will they ever let me out? I need to get out before I lose it. As my head continues throbbing, I stare at the ceiling for hours. When the lights in the hallway are finally dimmed, I rip out the IV and slowly slink out of the reclining chair and into the empty hallway, my hand gliding across the right wall to try to find an exit. Blood from where the IV was inserted into my arm paints the wall as I stumble in the darkness. Finally, I enter the waiting room, which is bathed in harsh, white light, and the contrast almost blinds me. Suddenly, all eyes are immediately focused on me. I quicken my pace, making a beeline for the door. Out of nowhere, a security guard grabs me firmly by the wrist.

“Miss, where do you think you’re going?”

I smirk at him, before delivering a right jab to his ribs, causing him to double over, as I run out of the waiting room and into the invigorating night air.

After sprinting for what seems like hours, with the hospital far behind me, I pause to stop wheezing and gather my breath. The blood in my head is pulsing, and some blood from the bandage trickles down my forehead before pooling at my chin. I follow the dirt path before me through clumps of evergreens; my feet caked with dead leaves and damp soil. Suddenly, harsh light pierces my vision. I find myself at the edge of a large highway. The neon reds and yellows of car lights cars speed by me. Vera. Pain blossoms in my head, and he’s there again. Vera. I grasp the trunk of a lamppost, pressing my face onto its cool surface. Vera. With my arms fully stretched in both directions, I stride onto the highway. Belligerent drivers honk and swerve around me. By some miracle, I manage to cross the road unscathed. My eyes closed, I stumble in the grass on the opposite side of the highway with my arms stretched in front of me. My feet touch down on rough, textured pavement. I feel a hand grasp my wrist, and immediately jerk my neck upwards, my eyes straining open. The old man places a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Miss, are you alright?” I let out a high-pitched laugh before stroking his face with my fingertips.    “C’mon,” he replies, leading me past what seems like a gas station and into the bright lights of the mini mart.

“Do you have a… a phone?”

“There’s a payphone right outside.”

With three unstable strides, I reach the payphone. I dig into the pocket of my jacket, pressing four, frigid quarters into the palm of my hand before inserting them into the slot. After frantically entering in a number, I clutch the phone to my ear.

“Hello? Who is this,” answers a wispy voice.

“Who do you think it is?”

“Vera? Do you realize what time it is?”

“You said I could call anytime.”

“It’s 1:30 in the morning, Vera. Jesus.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Come in tomorrow and we can discuss this.”

“I won’t be there tomorrow. I’m going away.”

“Vera-”

“I’m going away. I’m going to find him.”

“Who?”

“Him. My dad.”

“Vera, as your therapist, I do not approve of this decision.”

“It’s funny that you think, you with your big Ph.D. and awful fashion sense, that you know what’s best for me. You don’t! I figured it out, and I’m going to find him. Don’t you realize, this whole time it's been him, he’s the voice.”

“Vera, right now you’re in a fragile mental state. Your judgment is severely impaired.”

“I don’t care what my mother said, about it not being a good decision to meet him. Blah blah blah! Screw her! I’m going to Denver!” I slam the phone down before he can say another word. I pull out the crumpled slip of paper from my pocket with the address, 1080 Walnut Street, Denver, Colorado, written in charcoal drawing pencil. Ever since my mother gave it to me ten years ago, I have made it a habit to always carry around his address, in case the longing brewing within me became unbearable, and I couldn’t stand not knowing him for another second. But now, standing at the edge of the highway, I am the most stuck I have ever been in my life, knowing exactly where to go but having no way of getting there. With no better plan, I start walking, past the gas station, past the madness. As the lights of cars blur by me, I keep walking, the sky appearing more like a painting than something of reality. The brilliant crimsons and mauves of dawn explode into the dazzling cerulean of morning, and here I am, thumb extended to drivers who wouldn’t let me have a ride if their life depended on it. Although my body feels frozen and laced with ice, my muscles burn and ache, and it’s not long before I’m gritting my teeth with every step, the blisters on my feet scraping against the harsh pavement. Thunder explodes above me, streaks of lightning rippling through the sky. Covering my ears with my hands, I scream out into the void.

I am awakened by the sound of a gentle voice. “Miss, are you alright?” Blinding light floods my senses.

“Sure,” I respond, my eyes still closed.

“Is there any way I can help you?”

“No…. Wait, do you have a car?”

    Turns out Joe is a trucker. An all-American, KFC-obsessed trucker with a severe nicotine addiction. Trust me, I know all about him. Throughout the ride, he doesn’t stop rambling on and on and on about his pathetic little farm boy life. It’s like watching Duck Dynasty and being handcuffed to the seat, powerless to avoid the stream of verbal diarrhea and cultivated ignorance. He’s on his way to Boulder for a potato conference, five miles outside of Denver, and has agreed to drop me off at the city limits. While he continues ranting, I rest my face against the glass of the window, watching the passing landscape gradually become more rugged. The farther south we travel, the more the trees seem to disappear, making the air drier and harder to breathe. After hours of what feels like imprisonment in the truck, I am restless and miserable, and keep having to kick my feet against the dashboard to stop them from falling asleep. Joe doesn’t seem to mind. He seems cheery as ever, after blasting banjo music and singing along to his favorite redneck bands for the past few hours. When Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You” comes on the radio, he gets really worked up, proceeding to sing the chorus in a grating, unbearable voice. Despite the echoes of Joe’s haunting falsetto, I somehow manage to fall asleep.

A man sits in the corner of a dark room, illuminated by the pale flame of a long, thin candle. Something about him seems vaguely familiar, yet distant and uninviting. His eyes pierce right through me, making the acid rise in my stomach. “Hello, Vera.” From his left hand dangles a female puppet, which he makes twitch and dance with the slightest movement of his fingers. As I near the marionette, a sense of foreboding courses through me as its familiar features come into focus. Its chocolate-colored hair and blistered feet send a kind of wild electricity down my spine. My body is paralyzed, eyes fixed to this all too realistic woman. “Boo,” he whispers into my ear, causing me to fall backward and bang my head on the hard wooden floor. He erupts into a fit of laughter, and then the candle is extinguished. I wake up with a start.

“Whoa,” Joe shouts. “What happened to you?”

“Just a bad dream.”

“An IHOP is coming up in a few miles. We should stop and eat.” Half an hour later, we are parked outside of a small line of stores on the side of the highway. Since I have no appetite, I take the opportunity to walk around and stretch my legs while Joe eats. Jesus, I swear I almost got a blood clot from being held up in that truck for hours. The rocks in the pavement bury themselves into the scabs in my feet, making me scream out into the ruins of suburbia. Finally, I spot a message from God: a Payless. I get black tennis shoes, which are ugly as hell but so damn comfortable.

Joe is surprisingly quiet for the rest of the day, lolling in his carbohydrate daze, and before sunset we reach Colorado. My eyes paint the passing road with the words I have not yet spoken, spoken to him. The almost three days on the road have been three days too long. I need to find him now. Joe pulls over to the side of the road just outside of Boulder to stop for the night, and before long he’s out cold. Rifling through the glove compartment for the hell of it, my fingers brush across something cool and metallic. Grabbing it, I sneak out of the truck and cross to the other side of the quiet road, pressing the gun against my head and pretending to shoot. Boom. I double over with hyena-like laughter. Like I’d ever kill myself. Ha!

With labored steps, I walk toward the bright lights ahead, my eyes making out the outline of a bus stop in the distance. As I take the gun off safety, an almost mystical sense of power and control courses through me. I’m not Vera. No, right now I’m Superwoman: a gritty goddess with the searing vengeance of a thousand yellow jackets. After arriving at the bus stop, I sit down, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head to avoid being seen.

“Who are you dressed as?” an elderly woman with long silver hair and chestnut eyes asks me.

“What?”

“It’s Halloween. Who are you dressed as? Jessica Jones? I mean I just figured, with the gun and all.”

“Who’s that?” I respond before quickly tucking the gun into the right pocket of my jacket.

“Oh, she’s an interesting character from this wonderful new series on Netflix. I first saw it with a man named Harvey; we matched on Plenty of Fish...”

Before she can finish, the bus approaches us, screeching to a halt. As I get on, I pray that it is going in the right direction as I stare out the window at the falling snow. "I hear there’s going to be a blizzard." As the woman from before sits down next to me, continuing her little directionless story, I push past her and towards the front of the bus, sitting down on the floor next to the driver’s seat. He turns to me, giving me a quizzical expression.

“Miss, what are you doing?”

“So where are we going?”

“Edgewater.”

“Yeah... I need to go to Walnut Street."

"Miss, I can't just take you anywhere you want."

I reach into the pocket of my coat before placing a hundred-dollar bill in his lap.

"I'm sorry, but I can't accept bribes."

My hand dives back into my coat before taking out an additional four hundred.

"Fine."

    An hour later, I get off the bus, now filled with puzzled passengers, and knock on my father’s door. A middle-aged woman with vivid rose lipstick and frizzy blond hair opens the door in her pajamas.

“Hello? Who are you? Do you know how late it is?”

“Hi. I’m looking for Calvin Peterson.”

“How exactly do you know my husband?”

“Let’s just say he’s an old friend.”

“Alright...” she responds, her shifty eyes seeming to examine every bone and muscle in my face. “Cal works the night shift at Cork, which is a little ways down the road. It’s to the left of the gas station. You can’t miss it.”

I stride away without looking back or thanking her for the directions. A few minutes later, the gas station comes into view. A strange silence pervades the snowy air, and there is no one in sight. Next to the gas station, a red neon sign with the word Cork flashes above the entrance to a small bar. Inviting myself in, I step inside as the wind chimes above the door jingle harshly.

“Hello? Who’s there?” asks a coarse voice from behind the dark bar. “It’s two in the morning. We close at two every night. Everybody knows that.”

“I’m actually not interested in alcohol at the moment,” I retort, coasting gradually to the bar. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah? What for?” The man flicks a switch, filling the room with the glow of fluorescent lights. My father is a tall, wiry man in his early sixties, his skin weathered and tan from years of living in the Southwest.

“Does the name Geraldine Black ring a bell?”

“Geraldine? How do you know Geraldine?”

“She’s my mother.”

“Wait are you....... Vera?”

“No, she had another child whose father left her.”

“Vera,” he says, reaching out his hand, which I slap away.

“Don’t touch me, you monster! It’s all your fault.”

“Why did you come all this way if you’re just going to call me names?”

“I wouldn’t have. Honestly, I wouldn’t have wasted my time. But then one day it all made sense, after all those years of useless medication, that I’m not crazy. It’s you.”

“What do you mean it’s me?”

“It’s you. You’re the voice in my head.”

“Jesus Christ. You know what? You’re just as crazy as I thought you’d be. Why the hell do you think I left? It wasn’t your mother. It was you. Even then, when you were three, I knew you were just like her, my mother. She heard ghosts in her head, and after a while nothing she ever said made sense. I left her, and I had to leave you. People like you just imprison everyone around them. I think I’ve had enough of you for one lifetime. Good night and get out.”

“Ha. Make me.”

With one fell swoop, he picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and carries me out of the bar and toward the gas station. Shrill screams erupt from deep within me, and giving up, he finally puts me down.

“Get yourself a cab,” he growls at me, pointing to a nearby phone booth.

“I don’t think so,” I snap back, pulling the trucker’s gun out of my coat and pointing it at him, steadying it with both hands.

“You’re not in your right mind. Give me the gun,” he responds, walking towards me. With that, I pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his head. For a few minutes, all is still, and silence is by my side. Then I hear static in the back of my mind, like a radio stuck forever between two channels. Laughter pierces the static, and then I hear him again. Oh Vera. What a silly girl you are. You thought it was our pathetic little nobody of a father. I’m so much stronger than he ever was. You’ll never run away from me. You must know who I am now. Look in the snow. Through the dim light, I can just make out the words “never forget” spelled out in a gasoline rainbow around my father’s body.  Suddenly, the finality of it all comes crashing down around me, and I can’t breathe.

“See you in hell,” I respond, before putting the barrel of the gun to the roof of my mouth and squeezing the trigger.

    Snow sugarcoated the towering evergreens. My father lay sprawled on the cool pavement; his limbs twisted beyond recognition, forming an ironic snow angel in the dusted fluff, a pained expression on his ghostly face. My body lay beside him. Finally, there is silence.

#btogut #serial #psychick