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#if they’re gonna bleed at least if can be in a way that makes me go ‘o neat’
bedsyandco · 2 months
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Soon you’ll get better
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❥ — ꒰ pairing ꒱ lani x quinn hughes
❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ the aftermath of the accident
❥ — ꒰ content ꒱ talks of an accident, medical injuries, death, miscarriage. incorrect medical talk and diagnosis…obviously i’m not a doctor and this is fiction!! unedited. will be edited later!!
❥ — ꒰ note ꒱ title bc I listened to the song while writing!!
Eight and a half hours later when the Hughes family arrived in Vancouver and at the hospital, Quinn was still in the same position he had been the entire night. Sat on the floor, his arms rested on his bent legs, his head rested against the wall. When he saw his family arriving he mustered the little energy he had left after not sleeping last night, to push himself up and meet them halfway across the waiting room.
“Oh Quinn,” is all his mom said as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and held him for a few minutes. Afterwards he gave his dad a long hug, no word being exchanged there because what could he say?
“Have you heard anything?” Violet asks as Quinn hugs her.
“Not really. The doctor comes out every few hours to tell me that she’s still stable and that they’re doing everything they can but… it’s been hours and…” Quinn says, tearing up again and he wipes his face frustratedly.
“You should get some sleep,” Jack suggests softly and Quinn just glares at him.
“I’m not sleeping until I know she’s okay,” Quinn responds
“Quinn we’ll wake you-”
“I’m not sleeping until I know she’s okay,” Quinn repeats and Jack nods.
Jack understood. So did Luke. He spent the 8 hour flight over there thinking about what he would do if God forbid something ever happened to Violet. He determined that Violet was gonna live way longer than him and that he’d never have to live that horrible life without her, nothing was ever allowed to happen to her. Luke wraps his arms tightly around her again, kissing her neck where he could feel her pulse and the pressure in his chest lessens a bit but it returns when he goes back to observing his older brother.
“Do you know how it happened yet?” Jim asks and Quinn nods
“She was on her way to the restaurant, a truck lost control on the road and Lani swerved to miss it, her car rolled off the road and crashed straight into a pole. Apparently she’s lucky she swerved otherwise she would have died on impact with the truck. Doesn’t feel very fucking lucky though, does it?” Quinn asks angrily and everyone flinches a little when he curses but all of them remain silent. Not quite sure what to say.
“God, if I had just…gone home and picked her up. Or cancelled the damn dinner. You know I can’t even really remember what my life was like before the past year, before her. And I can’t even imagine what it would look like without her,” Quinn says, his voice cracking at the end.
“You don’t have to imagine it. Lani’s gonna be okay Quinn. She’s gonna pull through,”Jack says, pulling his brother into a tight hug.
“I’m gonna go get us some coffee,” Blue says to Violet softly and she leaves just as the doctor appears.
“Mr. Hughes?” the doctor asks from a distance away and Quinn walks closer, so only he would hear what the doctor was saying, scanning the doctor’s face for any clues as to what he should prepare for, but the doctor’s face doesn’t give anything away.
“Is she okay?” Quinn asks desperately
“Ms. Reed is out of surgery and will be moved to recovery now. She had extensive injuries. She had multiple fractured bones in her arm, and shoulder. She also took a major blow to the head and there was some internal bleeding that we were able to stop luckily. One of her lungs was punctured-” the doctor’s words get caught off by Quinn turning towards the garbage can to vomit.
“I’m good, you can continue” Quinn rasps out as the doctor sends him a concerned look.
“The list of injuries is long Mr. Hughes but the most important thing is that she’s okay and she’ll make a full recovery. Physically at least. Unfortunately Ms. Reed suffered a miscarriage because of the physical trauma and shock her body went through because of the accident and there was nothing we could do,” the doctor says softly and Quinn stops breathing for a second.
“Miscarriage?” Quinn asks, not quite comprehending the fact that Lani was…
“Ms. Reed was pregnant prior to the accident. She wasn’t very far along…7-8 weeks potentially. It was likely that she didn’t even know yet. There was no permanent damage done and she should have no problem getting pregnant again in the future. I can be the one to tell her if you don’t feel-”
“No, I’ll do it,” Quinn immediately responds, knowing it would be better if it came from him.
“Someone will be out shortly to take you to her room. I’m very sorry for your loss,” the doctor says sympathetically before walking away again and Quinn has to lean against the wall for a second to process what he just heard. The doctor obviously assumed correctly that the baby was his since he told them him and Lani were engaged despite their very obvious missing rings.
Lani is pregnant. Was pregnant. Was.
Quinn walks back towards his family, a little dazed. His lack of sleep and shock of what happened in the past 24 hours finally caught up to him.
“She’s gonna be okay,” is all Quinn says because Lani should be the first person he tells about the baby, and maybe she doesn’t want other people to know and Quinn wanted to make sure he respected those wishes.
Everyone practically deflates with relief and his parents take a seat on the chairs, his mom letting out a few tears.
“Luke and I are gonna stop by your apartment. Get you some clothes and other things. I’ll pack Lani a bag too,” Violet says and Quinn hands her the keys to his car and his apartment. The guys had driven to the hospital with his car and ordered a ride home so Quinn still had his vehicle.
“You know where my stuff is. Lani’s things are all in the same places, just on the left. Same with the bathroom, all her stuff is in the left vanity,” Quinn says and Violet nods giving him a tight hug.
“We love you,” she says and Quinn squeezes her tight.
“Thanks for being here,” he responds
“Of course,”
They leave and when Blue comes back a few minutes later with 2 hands filled with multiple cups of coffee, Quinn feels his chest contract again. Lani loves coffee.
“We’re gonna go get everyone some food. We’ll be back but if you go see her before we return, tell Lani we love her yeah?” Jack says taking Blue’s hand in his own and Quinn nods as they make their way to the exit.
About thirty minutes later a nurse shows up and leads him to Lani’s room, and this is all Quinn’s been waiting for…a moment to lay his eyes on Lani and be sure that she’s okay. That he didn’t lose her. That they were gonna be okay.
But as he stood in the entrance of the room, he was unable to move, or speak, or breathe at the sight in front of him.
There she was. His Lani. Except she didn’t look like his Lani at all. Because his Lani was full of light, and so filled with joy she practically glowed with it. And now she was pale, battered, bruised and blue.
Quinn simply stands there for a moment observing her before he walks closer, taking the seat closest to her bedside and gently as ever, grabbing her hand and holding it against his cheek, pressing multiple kisses on her palm.
He fell asleep like that, clutching her hand tightly and resting his head against her.
A few hours later he awoke to the feeling of fingers gently running through his hair and his eyes instantly shot open.
He lifted his head to meet her gaze and he instantly teared up again.
“Lani,” he whispers, standing up and leaning over to kiss her on the temple
“We should call the nurse,” Quinn says hastily but Lani halts him with a hand on his arm.
“The nurse was already in here, just a few moments ago. She explained what happened and gave me some pain meds,” Lani says
“How long have you been awake?” Quinn asks
“For thirty minutes or so,”
“You should’ve woken me up,” Quinn says
“The nurse said you didn’t sleep at all last night, I wanted to let you rest a little longer,” Lani explains and Quinn sighs
“Come sit,” Lani says patting the spot next to her and Quinn immediately shakes his head
“No I don’t wanna hurt you,” he argues, choosing to sit at the bottom of the bed instead.
They talk for a little bit but half an hour later the troubled look on Quinn’s face still hasn’t disappeared.
“I’m okay Quinn,”
“You almost weren’t though,” he argues, his voice cracking
“But I am. And that’s all that matters. I'm here. I'm okay.” she says softly and Quinn just stares at her for a few minutes
“I should probably go give my parents an update,” Quinn says but doesn’t move.
“Your parents are here?” Lani asks surprised
“yeah, came as soon as they heard what happened. So did my brothers and Vi and Blue,” Quinn says
“oh. they didn’t need to fly all the way out here for me,”
“you almost died lani,” quinn says incredulously. finding it ridiculous that she’s even having the thought that her almost dying is an inconvenience to others.
“They can visit tomorrow if you’re up for it,” Quinn determines, seeing how tired she looks. She didn’t have to see them today. Or tomorrow. Or at all if she didn’t want to.
Him and Lani spend the next hour or so just talking, reassuring one another that she was okay and everything was gonna be fine. And then Quinn remembered that there was still something he needed to tell her. He really didn’t want to, not wanting to hurt her even more than she was already hurt.
“Lani. I need to tell you something,” Quinn starts but hesitates
“What is it?” she asks concerned, taking both his hands in hers.
“Before the accident, you were- you were pregnant. But the baby didn’t make it,” Quinn says softly and it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart when she gasps and tears up, retracting her hands and putting them on her stomach.
“No,” she whispers, and Quinn wipes her tears, nodding sadly.
“No,” she repeats again, her body shaking with her sobs and Quinn just wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.
Her sobs eventually die down, but the tears never stop, all ending up on Quinn’s shirt.
“I’m so sorry Quinn,” she apologises softly, pressing a kiss to his neck, knowing he must be hurting too.
“Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. None of this is your fault, you hear me?” he asks and she nods against his shoulder.
Rationally Lani knew it wasn’t the right time to have a baby. Her and Quinn are only dating for about a year now, she was still in school, he was only now really settling in with the responsibility of being captain. But she also can’t help but be sad at the possibility of what could have been. Of what they could have had.
“We’re gonna be okay angel. The only thing that matters right now is that you’re okay. We’ll get through the rest together okay?” he asks and she nods, tears still falling as he cups her face and presses kisses all over. Kissing every tear away.
“I love you so much. More than I can even try to explain,” Quinn says, kissing her gently, and that just makes the tears fall even more.
“I love you the most,” she replies, snuggling into him more as he holds her. They would spend the rest of the day like that. And the next few days. And a lot of days after that. But they were gonna be okay, as long as they had each other.
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megantrancyfanfics · 1 year
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Hello 👋! I was wondering if I could put in a request? If not, please ignore 😊
Giyu x wife!fem!reader
She finds out about Giyu agreeing to commit seppuku (if Nezuko fails) @ the meeting and confronts him about it at home. He didn't tell her about it and she's upset (I know I would be) they have an argument but then it gets resolved and NSFW/fluff etc follows. If its a lame request I get it I just love plot w/ some spice 😉
Thanks again! 💜💜💜
Ahh I love this!! Thank you for requesting this! I hope I don’t fail you, and I hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: NSFW and Fluff
Will contain: talks of wanting a baby, talks of Seppuku, this will be more of a loving nsfw that turns slightly tougher so it’s not gonna be toe curling like my others but here’s what it’ll contain just a little bit of 69, (cunnilingus and Fellatio). Nothing too major but still be 18+
Enjoy 💕
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~~~~~~~~~~
“How stupid can you get?!” You screamed at him, your hair was a disheveled mess, your face and eyes puffy, dried tears stained your cheeks. Your husband, giyuu had just returned home from a mission.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“How long were you going to wait until you told me what you’ve done!? Were you even going to tell me at all!? How could you!? And to think I had to learn from Sanemi out of all people!”
Your poor husband stood in the doorway of your shared home, a lost and concerned look plastered on his face.
“You’re willing to throw your whole life away over some- some demon you don’t even really know! Giyuu she’s a demon! They’re monsters! They can’t be trusted! I can’t believe what you did..” your chin started to tremble, a lump caught in your throat as you tried to continue to lecture him.
“I wanted to have a family with you, giyuu. I wanted to grow old with you, I wanted us to be together until we both died, and you’re willing to throw your life away..do I mean anything to you? Is this whole marriage one sided!?”
His heart tightened. Seeing you so distraught hurt him. “Y/n..I did what I did because I know nezuko won’t hurt another human. That day, when I ran into them on that mountain, she never tried to harm her brother, even though he was bleeding, she never dared to go near him in a vicious way. I’m not throwing my life away for nothing, I will grow old with you, I will be by your side until we die, because I won’t have to commit Seppuku.”
“But you don’t know 100% Giyuu!!” Your knees started to buckle as the flood gates finally opened, snot, and tears started to coat your face. Before you could fall, giyuu was quick to get to you, and hold you up.
“I love you so much giyuu it fucking hurts, it hurts so bad. And the fact you never told me about this hurts even more. What else are you hiding from me giyuu??”
Giyuu was quiet, he allowed you to scream and cry until you felt content. It’s the least he could do for not telling you about that. In his defense, when he told the master, he just started talking to you. But, he sees where you’re coming from, if you did something like that he would want to know so he could treat everyday with you like it was your last.
When you finally dialed down, giyuu finally spoke.
“…I want to have a baby too.”
“..what..?” You choked out, as you wiped your nose on the sleeve of your haori.
“You asked me if there was something else I was hiding from you. And the truth is, I want a baby too. I’ve wanted one for years..I just..didn’t want to bring it up so you didn’t feel pressure into having one.”
“Really..?”
A quick, and quiet yes was his response before putting a finger under your chin, lifting you slightly before capturing your lips with his.
It was a slow and sensual kiss, that didn’t last long, but had you wanting more.
“Why waste anymore time? We both want one, would you like to try for one?”
You nodded, butterflies quickly making their way into your stomach as he took your hand in his, and headed to the bedroom.
~~~~
It didn’t take much for the two of you to get into the mood, and before long, the room was filled with sounds of both of your groans and moans. His tongue exploring the inside of your pussy, making you slowly and gently ride his face. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed the idea of you getting off on just his tongue. He loved hearing your muffled gasp when his tongue would abuse your clit. He loved feeling when he did that of your legs quivering just a bit. But god did he love the feeling of your tongue abusing his tip. He loved the way you’d swirl your tongue around his tip, before taking him almost all the way inside your mouth. Your mouth was so small compared to the girth of his cock. He adored feeling you try to take more of him in, your throat clamping down as you gagged. The feeling of his cock getting wetter when you pulled up to spit on it. He had to constantly keep focusing on pleasuring you so he wouldn’t bust right then and there.
“M-more please..” you begged, your once gentle movements on his tongue becoming more desperate, your attention now fully on the climax that was building up inside of you, and what kind of man would he be to deny you? He spread your lips before devouring your cunt again, his tongue going as deep as it could. Your moans became higher pitched as you coated is face in your cum. He allowed you to ride out your high before he pushed you forward, your ass up in the air.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, rubbing his slobbered covered cock against your folds.
“Please, I want a baby so bad. I want your cock so bad”
He slowly slid his cock into your went folds, both of you letting out a moan. Your pussy was being spread out in the most delicious way. You felt full by the time he bottomed out inside of you.
His thrusts were slow and sensual, but with his cock being so thick he rubbed all of the right spots inside of you, making your legs shake in no time. Your pussy was clamping down onto his, causing his cock to twitch inside you.
“Are you close, darling?”
You nodded, his thrusts becoming a bit faster and less timed as both of your highs washed over you quicker than both of you would like to have admitted.
Your body felt warm as his cum leaked inside of you, causing you to shiver.
“You’re doing so good for me, are you tired?” He asked leaning down, and littering your back with kisses.
“A little.”
“You can handle one more round can’t you baby? I’ve missed you so much and I wanna make sure I put a baby in you, so I wanna use you just one more time to make sure in a few months you’ll be walking around with a swollen belly.”
Your pussy fluttered around his cock, making him let out a quick chuckle. “You liked hearing that? Does that turn you on?” He slid his cock out until just the tip was still inside, before he quickly shoved his cock back inside of you, causing your legs to shake.
“Are you sensitive doll? I’m sorry. Maybe you’ll cum more than twice tonight.” He says before placing his hands on your hips, his grip tight enough to leave bruises.
His thrusts were quicker, rougher, and deeper than before, you were fearful you’d leak out some of his cum, but your brain was turning to mush with every thrust. Your pussy tightened around him once more, but he didn’t dare slow down, if anything it made him speed up more. He wanted to see a mixture of his cum and yours drip out of you. He was determined to see it. Besides, if some of his cum did leak out, and you didn’t get pregnant, he’ll make sure to try again and again until you were.
Your moans filled the room, your hips had started moving on their own, trying to match the pace of his to quicken your release. You were close, so close. Your vision was blurred as you saw stars once giyuu moved a hand from your hip to your clit to give you some extra stimulation.
Your high was quick to wash over you, but giyuu didn’t slow down, you became overstimulated, creaming on his cock as his high started to bubble up inside him.
“I’m going to make sure you’re filled to the brim with my cum. I’m going to pump you so full of my cum that it’s gonna drip out of you.”
“Please, I want that so bad please please please”
New kink unlocked: he loved hearing you beg, it had him biting his lip as his hips stuttered, his cum coming out in thick long ropes inside of you.
The both of you took a few minutes to catch your breaths, giyuu couldn’t help but look down, to see your creamy cunt drip just a little bit of his cum onto the bed.
“There’s no way I’m not pregnant..I feel so full.” You said softly, giyuu’s cheeks getting red as he pictured you holding their future kid. His heart felt like it melted. He slowly pulled out his cock, and helped you get under the covers. He made sure you were covered before holding you close to him.
Maybe it was post nut, or maybe giyuu was just speaking from the heart, but he went on and on about how pretty you’d look carrying his kid, and how he was excited to come home from missions or training to you singing, or talking to the baby.
Both of you can only hope there is a little baby that was made that night.
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atinylittlepain · 10 months
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June - Part One
joel miller x f!OC
series masterlist
warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, eventual smut, angst
a/n | well, I'm a bit nervous to share this one. as I mentioned before, this is going to be quite different than anything I have put out before. Each part is going to be much shorter than my usual fare - anywhere from 2K to 2.5K. Again, please take care reading this, I am touching on very tender topics. I also need to thank @wannab-urs and @jksprincess10 and @beskarandblasters for supporting me through writing this, so much gratitude for you both.
....................................
Cheer up, honey, I hope you can
There is something wrong with me
My mind is filled with silvery stars
Honey, kisses, clouds of fog
"Radio Cure" by Wilco
....................................
She’s a difficult woman. When she wants to be. And he supposes she does. He supposes she’s angry at him. She had made that clear enough. He had taken something from her, a choice, an escape, a way out. But she had taken it from him too. They hold each other’s lives between their teeth, waiting for the other to bite down, to show mercy, to bleed out.
They won’t let her go outside the gates anymore, no patrol shifts. And they have her staying with one of the doctors in town, a watchful eye. From what he’s heard, it isn’t going well. From what he sees, it isn’t going well. Joel isn’t sleeping these days because she isn’t either. He follows her, a shadow, not daring to get too close lest she decides to snap at his presence. 
Most nights, she circles her cage like a despondent animal, fingertips running along the wall that keeps her from doing it again. And he follows after her, willing her to turn over her shoulder, to look at him, to offer him anything. He would take anything she’s willing to give. 
And then he does something to upset her even more. It comes up between him and his brother on patrol. The doctor she’s staying with is at her wit’s end with her. Coming and going at strange hours, silent and snarling. So he offers up the spare room in his house and suddenly she’s stomping up his porch with a backpack and a scowl.
“What exactly are you trying to do?” He has to admit, it’s a good question. One he’s not sure of the answer to.
“You need somewhere to stay, and I have the space.”
“Because your kid doesn’t want to live here anymore?” 
“She ain’t my kid.” 
“Yeah right.”  He’s just content to have her looking at him again, even if she is trying to dig her claws in. But her eyes flicker away fast.
“It’s only for a month. Then they’re gonna let me have my apartment back.” “Whatever you say, June. Your room is upstairs, second door on the–” 
“It’s not fair, you know.” “What’s that?”
“The only difference between you and I is that I got caught. And now I’m stuck in a fucking cage. You may have played hero, but I know why you were out there.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shouldering past him into the house and trudging upstairs. 
For the first time since Ellie left, he starts cooking. Mostly because she’s not eating. Or at least he never sees her eating, no trips to the dining hall, and she only passes through the kitchen to get upstairs. So he starts cooking, albeit simply, leaving plates outside her closed door, happy to see them cleared in the morning. His pants start fitting better again, belt not done on the tightest notch anymore. And he’d like to think she starts looking different too, a little brighter after a few weeks of square meals. 
She doesn’t wander at night anymore. He’s always waiting on the porch to see her come home. She’s even started to mutter a low goodnight when she passes him to go inside, something beating and flickering inside his ribs when she does. 
He knows from Maria that she’s started working at the garden, and one night she comes home with a basket, a few ears of corn, pale and silky in their husks, and strawberries bright enough to make his mouth water. She sets the basket down at his feet, her eyes not meeting his, though she gives him a curt nod before going inside, the light click of the screen door shaking him out of his stupor. 
Sliced into bleeding slivers, how Sarah liked them, with a drizzle of honey where he would have sprinkled sugar, how Sarah liked them. But instead of setting the bowl down outside her door, he decides to knock, and she decides to let him in. 
They sit on the edge of the bed, close enough to hold the bowl between them, their fingers staining sticky from the sweet syrup of the treat, saccharine singing down their throats. And when all the berries are gone, they pass the bowl back and forth, lapping up any remaining sweetness, mouths smacking with want. Her lips are red, swollen from the way she licks at them to chase up what’s left of the taste, and his eyes dart from them to her temple, a much darker red, still healing, still raised and scabbed. 
“Stop looking at it.” 
“I’m not.” “Yes, you are. Everyone does.”
“You wanna look at mine?” Her eyes widen, and he’s already turning his head, running a finger along the sliver on his temple.
“You–”
“I missed, just like you.”
“But you weren’t gonna miss this time, were you?” 
“No, I wasn’t. I’m glad you did though.” It’s the exact wrong thing to say, and he can see the way she shuts down, furling back in on herself, turning away from him, covering the side of her face with her palm.
“Goodnight, Joel.” A long sigh, slipping through his fingers.
“Goodnight, June.” 
At the end of the month, she doesn’t leave. There is no conversation about it. She simply doesn’t leave. And Joel has to swallow down his elation at that. 
Soon, her baskets laid at his feet turn into her helping him in the kitchen. They settle into silent rhythms, hips bumping as fat sizzles in the pan, the dull chop of vegetables and the savory sear of meat cooking. They eat together on the back porch, sitting side by side, taking in the lingering light of summer as they fill their bellies. An act that promises permanence. Her scar is quickening, new skin, new, new, new. And when he reaches out for her, his fingers skating over that arced line, she lets him. 
“Can I see yours again?” A nod, a tilt of his head, and a shiver when her fingers press over his scar. 
“I’m glad you missed, Joel.” She kisses angry, her fingers curling in his hair, swallowing up his groan when she tugs too hard. All teeth, nipping, clicking against his, and he wants more, more, more. He goes greedy with it, hands pulling at clothes, pressing her closer, as close as he can, pulling her into his lap and she’s warm, sharp, softening her snarl only slightly when he licks into her mouth. But she’s gone in a flash, pulling away with a gasp, stumbling down the porch steps, all but falling onto her ass as she wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes wild and wide. And Joel aches because he had her, he had her, and it felt so good and she’s already snapping back and away. 
“I– I’m sorry, June.” She doesn’t offer him anything else, darting past him and back inside. He sits there, slack, long after the sun dips down below the mountains, a shiver setting on him in the chill of the night. 
But she stays. She gets quiet again, cagey, no longer eating with him, only clipped greetings when they pass each other. But she stays. 
He’d like to say something, anything, but in the fleeting moments he sees her, he finds himself choking on words, his throat constricting and she’s already gone. So it’s a surprise when one day, she comes home and wordlessly sits down next to him on the porch. He doesn’t move, barely even breathes, a hummingbird beat away from her disappearing.
“Why doesn’t your kid live with you anymore?” 
“She ain’t my–”
“Fine, why doesn’t not your kid live with you anymore?” An inhale and an exhale, he has to clear his throat before he answers.
“I lied to her. And did a lot of things she didn’t agree with.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I was trying to protect her.” 
“Did you?”
“Did I what?” “Protect her?” 
“I suppose I did. Reckon if this is the price I have to pay– for her to be safe– I’m fine with that.”
“Is that why you were out there that night?” 
“Yes.” She hums at that, the both of them still looking straight ahead. He can feel the warmth of her from where her thigh rests so close to his.
“Why haven’t you tried again?” He finally breaks, turning his head to squint at her, her eyes finding his.
“What do you mean?” 
“They don’t think you’re crazy. Not like me. Nobody would blink twice if you went back out there. So why haven’t you tried again?” It’s pure curiosity, no emotion behind her question, an honest and open desire to know.
“Because I’ve been busy keeping you from trying again.” It’s not the truth, at least not the whole of it, and he can tell she knows it, her lips curling into a smile. She’s just as good at this game as he is.
“Can I see yours?” Her hair has grown out more from where they had to shave it, and she has to tuck some of it back to show him the full line of her scar, still dark and jagged. He’s not sure if she’ll flinch, jerk away if he reaches out, but it’s a relief when she doesn’t, pressing her temple into the cup of his palm.
“I’m sorry, Joel.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, June.” He hopes that if he moves slower this time, only taking what she gives, that she won’t pull away. And she doesn’t, letting his lips brush against hers, a fluttering little thing. He swears he can hear it, something cracking in his chest, ribs breaking to make room for this new swell of warmth as she presses her lips to his again, a little more certain, a little more insistent. Her hand comes to rest at the collar of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric when he sweeps his tongue along her bottom lip, a question that she responds to in kind, opening up to him with a sweet sigh. 
Sweet, sweet, sweet. No snap, no snarl, just a simple slip of her mouth pressed to his. He’s going to have to ration it, this sweetness, willing himself to pull away before she spooks. His hand is on hers, and her hand is on his, thumbs sweeping, back and forth, back and forth, tracing the secret they share. 
“You hungry?”
“Not really.” 
“Do you want to make dinner?”
“Okay.” 
She’s always not really hungry. He knows by now that it means nothing. And sure enough, he has to hide a smile when she pockets a perfect cherry tomato in her cheek as they start on dinner. 
“There's extra blankets in that closet if you need them. Since it’s getting colder at night and all.” Dinner had been a silent volley of glances, punctuated by long sighs. And now, standing in the hallway, somewhere between his own room and where she’s standing in front of hers, Joel feels completely adrift. 
“Okay, thank you. I think there’s a draft in my window actually. It’s been cold in there these last few nights.”
“I’ll trade for some caulk tomorrow. Get that fixed for you.” Something passes over her face, a quick fall that he finds his mind hurrying to figure out. Oh, oh.
“Would you– my room is plenty warm. I can take the couch.” 
“I don’t want you to take the couch.”
“Okay.” 
He’s already under the covers when she pads into his room, wearing a large sweater and a pair of leggings.
“Are you really that cold?” “I run cold.” He has to bite back a laugh at that, simply nodding, keeping his hands clasped over his chest as she slips into bed on the other side. She’s quick about it, rolling onto her side, facing away from him and tugging the sheets up to her chin.
He tries, he really does, his hands itching in resistance. It feels like a leap, a moment of freefall when he reaches across the mattress, settling his hand on her shoulder. But she catches him, bringing her palm to rest over his, fingers furling in a gentle tug. Come closer, I will not bite, I will not run, not this time. 
The gap is closed with a simple curl of his arm over her waist, his chest slipping snug against her back, rising and falling in time with her thrumming ribs.
“Your feet are really cold.”
“I’m sorry, I told you.”
“That’s okay, June. I don’t mind.” 
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cellsshapedlikestars · 5 months
Text
I feel like I've had zero creative energy since I got covid, and it's annoying me. I did write one thing based off a small fever dream I had, but it's way too short and there's literally no plot so I can't bring myself to post it on ao3. Instead, I'm gonna post it here just because I do like it, even if my brain can't come up with an actual plot for whatever this is. Maybe some day.
.
The pickup bumps and rattles over the road, and Jon grits his teeth and tries not to curse. Where his taxes go, Jon has no idea, but it certainly isn’t to road maintenance. At least not out here. 
On the radio, they’re playing some song he swears he hasn’t heard in a decade, but somehow knows all the words to. Ghost lets out a snort as they hit another bump, and Jon meets his eyes in the rearview and says, “sorry buddy.”
As he rounds a bend in the road, his foot eases off the gas when he sees something up ahead.
No, not something. Someone.
It’s a girl, and when she hears the engine of his truck, she turns, sticks her thumb out. A hitchhiker. He didn’t think people did that anymore. He doesn’t even know how she got out here to begin with.
Against his better judgment, he slows. Hitchhikers can be dangerous, and he doesn’t need any trouble. He isn’t some bleeding heart. He left his childhood dreams of being a grand hero back in the North.
Yet still, he slows to a stop next to her, leaning over and rolling down the passenger side window.
She’s pretty. It’s the first thing he thinks.
The second thing he thinks is that she has no business being out here. Not with those earrings, or the heels he noticed before he pulled up, or the set of expensive leather luggage, now coated in dust and mud.
“I need to get to Riverrun,” she says through the window. A Northern accent, though much less harsh than his. Polished. It matches her earrings.
“How’d you get all the way out here?” he asks. The nearest town is likely a two hour walk in the opposite direction, especially dragging that set of luggage behind her.
“Can you take me or not?” she asks, eyes squinting against the sun. The baby hairs not caught up in her copper ponytail curl and stick to her forehead and neck. The rivers that crisscross the countryside make the humidity nearly unbearable in the dead of summer.
“Yeah, I can take you,” he says. He’s heading there anyway, and he can’t leave her out here by herself. She’ll get into trouble.
He watches her struggle to load her bags into the bed of his pickup, then she gets into the passenger side. She’s wearing a loose dress covered in pastel blue flowers, and when she sits, it hits mid thigh. He pulls his eyes away.
Definitely trouble.
“You know hitchhiking’s dangerous,” he says, pulling back onto the road as she buckles herself in.
Out of his periphery, he watches her look at him. “You going to murder me?” she asks. She doesn’t sound very concerned.
He lets out a breath through his nose, and says, “no, but you don’t know that. I could be anyone.”
“What if I’m the murderer and you’re the one in trouble?” 
His eyes cut to her. There’s no real expression on her face, she’s just watching him, waiting for an answer.
“I think I’ll be alright,” he says, looking back at the road. She gives a hum. He doesn’t know what that means.
She twists in the seat. “You’re big.”
Jon looks at her, then the rearview. Ghost pants happily, ears perked forward at the attention.
“Am I allowed to pet him, or is he a murderer, too?”
“No one’s going to murder you,” Jon sighs, hands tightening around the wheel. “I was just telling you, you shouldn’t be hitchhiking because it’s dangerous.”
Especially someone like her, but he doesn’t say it. She’d probably get offended.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
He blinks, then remembers what she actually asked. “Yeah, you can pet him.”
“What’s your name?” she asks, holding her hand out for Ghost to sniff.
“Ghost.”
He can feel her looking at him again, but he keeps his eyes on the road.
“Ghost,” she repeats, twisting around again. Jon can hear Ghost’s tail thumping on the leather seat. He tries to keep his eyes on the road. Tries not to notice the way her skirt rides up. It makes him feel like one of those people he’s trying to warn her against.
The ride is silent except for the radio and the wind through the open windows and Ghost’s thumping tail and happy pants as she scratches behind his ear.
“Almost at Riverrun,” he says eventually, as the roads become familiar, better kept. “Where can I drop you at? There’s a motel and a train station.”
He can feel her looking at him again. There’s a few moments of silence, before she says, “do you know where Blackwater Road is?”
Jon lets out a snort. Of course he does, it’s in the part of town where all the old money families live - but he knows where it is and so he drives her there. His pickup is out of place, but it’s not like he’s never been here before. His work takes him to every part of town.
He notices the car only a second before she sucks in a slow breath. It sits up ahead, at the entrance to the Tully estate, and it’s just as out of place here as his own, though in a completely different way.
The old money families drive nice cars, but they’re understated and elegant. This is a sports car, red and sleek and low to the ground. A man leans against the side, just as flashy as his car.
Jon knows without her saying anything that this is where she needs to be.
“Tully?” he asks anyway.
“Grandma’s waiting for me,” she says as his truck slows, her hand briefly curling into a fist on her thigh.
“What the fuck, Sans?” the man says, pushing off his sports car and walking towards Jon’s pickup. “You jump out of my car, but take a ride from some fucking hillbilly?”
“You alright?” Jon asks, as the girl reaches for the door handle.
She looks at him, and he sees it - the Tully resemblance. He’s only met Minisa a few times, but the eyes are unmistakable.
“I’m alright,” she says.
Then she opens the door and slides out, smoothing her skirt down. The man turns red in the face as she walks to the back of the pickup and starts pulling her luggage out.
“Don’t ignore me, Sansa,” the man says. His blond hair flops into his face, and Jon thinks he’d be handsome if he didn’t look like a petulant child. When she doesn’t answer, his face turns a shade of red Jon doesn’t think is healthy. “Did you at least pay the man for the ride? I bet you fucked him, didn’t you? Only thing that whore mouth is good for-”
Jon feels his teeth grind together, and he sets his truck in park and reaches over and pushes the passenger side door open, clicking his tongue. Ghost hops over the center console and out, ears flattening. The man makes a choked noise and steps back.
The girl pauses where she’s stacking her luggage, and she looks at Jon. What she’s thinking, he doesn’t know, but she doesn’t seem shocked at the language, or the situation. Then she reaches out and pets Ghost’s head one last time, before tilting the stack of luggage and carefully rolling it up the Tully estate driveway.
Jon waits until she’s out of sight before giving a sharp whistle. Ghost jumps back into the truck, and Jon reaches over and pulls the door closed.
Then he puts the truck in drive, and he knows peeling the tires isn’t good for them, but he does it anyway, kicking up a cloud of dust. The blond man lifts an arm to cover his face as Jon u-turns from the estate and heads back out to Riverrun proper.
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onirislanding · 20 days
Text
bleed for my baby bird
Rated: E
Word Count: 2,500
Tags: PWP, Complicated Relationship
CW: Steve has fucked around with another guy just before hooking up with Eddie. Eddie is very aware.
Also here on A03
Summary: Eddie is a firefighter. Steve is the fire.
“Please, Eddie,” Steve says, but he won’t move until Eddie says so. That’s what happens with this thing. The power flips back and forth so much Eddie feels like he has all the control and none of it at once. Like doing 95 on a dirt road. 105. 115.
“Please,” Steve says again. “I want to get the taste of him out of my mouth."
The CB mounted on Eddie’s dash crackles to life. Oh, please no. He’s the kind of tired that makes him feel like all the bones in his shoulders were broken and then badly reset. They can’t need him back on the job now.
“Car 69,” he says, because if they’re really gonna haul him back to the field, into an overnight, they can deal with his snarky ass. 
“Oh, hey.” That is not the dispatcher, or the chief, or anyone else. Too gentle and worn out. “Hey, sorry, Ed. Over.”
“Uh,” Eddie says into the mic. He makes the turn onto Clarkson one-handed, missing the bulk of his old van. He always overcorrects in this stupid Dodge. “We’re not on walkies, Harrington. You don’t need to say over.”
“You want to, though, right?” 
“Fuck you, dude,” Eddie says mildly. “How are you even calling me? Over.”
Steve laughs but it’s faint and a little sad and Eddie would squeeze his eyes shut if it didn’t mean risking crashing into a tree. 
“Uh, the person I’m with, um. Has a radio, and.”
That’s all she wrote. The exhaustion that felt baked into Eddie’s insides is dissipating, adrenaline and concern quickly filling in the spaces.
“Steve, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. . .not wrong, exactly,” Steve replies. 
It takes a little over fifteen minutes to get to the address Steve gives him. The house is compact, with a neat fence and some younger looking trees. Not much in the way of flowers. And just one unfamiliar car in the driveway, because Harrington went home with some douchebag. Again. 
Between the location and how new it looks, it’s a safe assumption that Steve just fucked one of the federal workers that Hawkins has been inundated with in the rebuild. Terrific. Another suit. Explains the radio, at least.
Eddie flattens his palm and leans on the horn, hard enough to feel like he’s shouting. 
“Hurry the fuck up, Harrington,” he mutters, and slides out of the car. 
After a minute, the front door creaks open and out steps Steve, in a short sleeve button down with his hair as artfully askew as always. There’s a guy behind him, a little shorter, maybe a red head. Eddie can’t completely tell in the dark. 
Steve turns back to say something and the guy visibly cranes his head around to get a look at Eddie. Who’s leaning up against his own car, in his street clothes but smudged with soot and grime. He takes a deep drag off his cigarette, aiming his glare in the dude’s general direction, and shrugs.
Steve walks down the little flagstone path – could this house get anymore trite? – as Eddie sharply chucks his cigarette butt into the driveway. 
“Thanks,” Steve says sheepishly, and gets into the passenger side without another word. 
They’re just emerging from the development, heading toward Piedmont, when Steve pipes up again. 
“Sorry,” he says. He leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes. “I didn’t – I forgot you were leaving work. I didn’t really think you’d pick up.”
How did – oh, right. Eddie reeks of smoke and his face and arms are all marked up with it, despite the protective gear he wears at work. That’s how Steve knows. 
“It’s fine,” Eddie says. “Does it bother you? Upside Down brimstone and all that.” It’s kind of crappy work but the pay is good. Camaraderie formed on the job with other townies is better. Turns out once you’re putting out rift fires together and saving newbies asses from certain death on the regular, they’re a lot less likely to jump you on Main Street. 
“It doesn’t smell like that place at all,” Steve says. Sounds pained. “Just like fire. And sweat. Dustin says you have hyperhidrosis,” Steve adds, a touch of snark in his voice.
“Jesus Christ, that worm child,” Eddie says. He loves that worm child more than almost anything, but still. “I literally work with fire.”
“I like what Rob says better,” Steve says. “Like a whore in church.”
“Calling your limo driver a whore now, Steven?” Eddie asks. Decision made, he bypasses Pine Road. 
There’s a pause. “No,” he says. “Sorry.”
That won’t do. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I am your whore.”
He slows to a stop and waits for the green. Risks a glance at Steve, who is sitting up straight now, eyes wide open. He rubs at one temple with a balled fist. Migraine, then. Eddie feels the flare of anger start to catch, an oncoming blaze of protection and lust.
“This isn’t why I called you, I don’t know –” The light turns green and Eddie takes off, certain now of where they’re going. He can’t look at Steve now, eyes on the road and all that, but he can feel him shift, knows he’s glaring through what might be a bad headache. “You passed my turn.”
“No shit,” Eddie says. He bites the inside of his lip, focuses hard on the dark dirt road beneath his headlights. If he doesn’t get them back to his place he’s going to do something stupid. Something very hot, but also fucking stupid.
“So what was it this time? You couldn’t go through with it? Pop a migraine? Which sucks, don’t get me wrong.”
After a beat, Steve just says, “Yeah.” He sounds minutes away from passing out, or giving up. This just won’t fucking do.
“You know why you called me,” Eddie says. This combination, rage and lust and affection. Eddie thought for a while it couldn’t be healthy. He’s rethinking that assessment, the closer they get to their destination. “Tell me.”
“I. . .” Steve says. The car feels humid all of a sudden. Eddie can smell himself, metal and ash, and the slightest bit of Steve. Vodka. Bergamot in his cologne, coconut in his shampoo. 
“I wanted it to be you,” he says. The simmering heat in Eddie’s stomach breaks free and drowns him, right there in the driver’s seat. 
“Good boy,” he says, and takes a sharp left.
It’s pure luck they make it back to Eddie’s apartment downtown without hitting a speed trap, and that’s a very good thing because he’s doing about 95. He’s been trying, he really has, to be a good citizen, especially with this visible first responder type of job. But he can’t imagine anyone would really blame him for trying to break the damn sound barrier in a Dodge Charger when they could have Steve Harrington. Even like this. 
They take the stairs wordlessly, Steve trailing behind Eddie. Third floor and keys out and they walk inside single file. Eddie doesn’t have to pull Steve in. He’s got him hooked. 
But he genuinely doesn’t realize just how hooked until he closes the door and moves to flick on the light switch, only to have his hand knocked away. 
“What–” Eddie starts and then Steve is on him, gripping his shoulders and backing him against the door. 
“Harrington,” Eddie says sharply but it’s like Steve doesn’t even hear him. He drops unceremoniously to his knees, loafers still on. 
Steve stops completely, hands on Eddie’s waistband, but he’s looking up at him with these freaking puppy dog eyes. Sad orphan in a comic strip eyes. And it is pathetic, and predictable, that it gets to him so fast, but it does. 
“Please, Eddie,” Steve says, but he won’t move until Eddie says so. That’s what happens with this thing. The power flips back and forth so much Eddie feels like he has all the control and none of it at once. Like doing 95 on a dirt road. 105. 115. 
“Please,” Steve says again. “I want to get the taste of him out of my mouth.
“Jesus freakin’ – suck my cock, then,” Eddie spits out. This is going to kill him. Kill them both. Well, fine. It's not like he hasn’t died before. Steve brought him back that first time. Maybe he’ll do it again.
Eddie’s belt hits the floor with a thump before he registers it being pulled from its loops and then Steve eases his broad hands in, supple and strong. Eddie is half hard already, moving steadily to a full erection in the short space of Steve pulling him free and opening his mouth. 120 miles an hour. 
“Fuck,” Steve whispers. “You smell like fire,” and he closes his thick lips around the head of Eddie’s dick, all warmth and determination as he pushes down and down. It feels like fire, and smoke – hazy, hot and thick. 
He thuds his head back against the door and brings his forearm up to his own mouth, sinks his teeth in. He tastes burnt wood and salt. He moans against his own skin as Steve sucks him on an upstroke, and then he grabs his own shaft. Steps to one side and departs that tight mouth with a stupid noise, leaving Steve on his knees, dumbstruck  and gearing up for embarrassment. 
“What–” he starts but Eddie’s already falling to his knees. Fuck this button down. He yanks at Steve’s collar, popping one button, which audibly hits the floor. Eddie pulls the shirt off and pushes Steve down, cradling his head in one hand so he doesn’t brain him. Don’t want that migraine getting worse. 
“I want to taste you, too,” he says. It feels more like an order than an admission but it’s such a near thing. He can finally smell past his own stink, smell Steve’s sunshine and sweat musk. He throws himself forward onto Steve’s chest and groans as he paws through the hair there. He pauses. The migraine.
“Is this – your head before –”
“Do it,” Steve hisses and Eddie does it, pulling at Steve’s chest hair until he can get one nipple into his mouth and sucks as hard as he knows Steve can stand. Steve cries out, there on the crappy vinyl floor, and it’s fucking gorgeous.
Eddie moves to the other nipple – equality and all that– but is pulled up by the shoulders. He’s still hanging out of his jeans, still in his boots, and is struck by how whipped he is as Steve pulls him forward to rub his still clothed dick against the crease of Eddie’s thigh. 
“Coming brings it on, sometimes,” Steve says as he thrusts up. Eddie remembers that, it happened a couple of times before. He felt like shit about it afterward but Steve always waved it off, said shit like you made me come so hard you fucked with my head.
“It makes it go away, too,” Steve continues, and he pushes Eddie back to undo his chinos, struggles to get his legs out from beneath Eddie’s.
 “Come on, Ed. Make it go away.”
They’re naked in a matter of seconds. Eddie even gets his boots off, thank God, and then they’re grinding away at each other on the floor. Steve’s cock feels better than Eddie remembered, even when it’s not inside him somehow – strong like him, in perpetual motion like him. Making Eddie fucking crazy, just like Steve does. 
Steve’s thick thighs lock around Eddie’s back and he moans again, high like he does when he’s out of his head and not thinking about how he sounds. Eddie rocks against him and buries his head against Steve’s neck. Can’t smell anyone else, can’t feel anyone else. He’s gonna make it all go the fuck away, for Steve. 
“Come on, baby,” he says. They’re sticky, bordering on tacky, but he’s close and he knows Steve is too. He ducks down and spits hard on the head of Steve’s dick, and Steve gets the message. Jerks himself off in a blur while Eddie strains against him, hands clawing the floor so hard he’s afraid he’ll leave marks. But he likes leaving a mark, bite marks in his own skin, his saliva running down Steve’s dick. I was here. We were here.
“Come on, I want to hear it. I want to feel it. Come on, baby. Come like you do just for me.”
He feels the skin of Steve’s sac soft against one thigh and then Steve’s hand stills. He rubs the head of his cock with his thumb and then he’s coming, in thick, silky spurts that coat his hand, hit his lower belly and Eddie’s pubic hair. Eddie can’t help but make noise at that, watches Steve arch and mewl while he keeps thrusting against Steve’s pubic bone. 
“Eddie,” he says. “Mark me up, I want it.” He digs his nails into Eddie’s shoulders and rubs against him in time and it doesn’t take much for Eddie to come against his hip in slow, rolling waves, clutching at Steve like he might get torn away. 
This thing is fucked up. It’s fucked up and they keep doing fucked up things and then running the hell away from eachother. At some point they’re going to have to talk about it. But just like he went and got Steve when he asked – yes, the words came when he called went through his brain because his brain is a traitorous wench – Eddie can’t help his own deep-seated need to provide. He helps Steve to the sofa, grabs water from the kitchen along with an apple, just in case. There’s no throw or anything out here but he’s got a sweatshirt tossed over the arm of the sofa. Steve lets Eddie dress him, lets him hold the glass up to his lips. 
“Did it work?” Eddie asks, pushing Steve’s hair back from his face. He thinks that he didn’t smell that other guy anywhere on Steve. Would that have pissed him off or turned him on more? Or both. 
“Which part,” Steve says and then coughs for a moment, takes another sip of water. “The headache’s gone.”
“I should probably get a shower,” Eddie says, looking down the length of his own naked body. “Shit, I hope I didn’t expose you to anything. Maybe this was stupid.”
Steve dips down to place his water glass on the floor and then turns to Eddie, brows knit, that snarky look he sometimes gets right before it hits him that he’s actually angry. He smoothes one palm around the back of Eddie’s neck and while that should be a clear indication of what’s about to happen, it’s still a surprise when Steve kisses him. It feels sweet, and kind of awkward, considering everything they’ve done. Like neither of them are really sure yet, how they should kiss. If they should. It’s nice though. 
Steve pulls back just a bit. “Everything about this is stupid. But this isn’t stupid.” He pauses, closes his eyes. He looks relaxed, not pinched like when the headaches have him, but not entirely alright. “Does that make any sense?”
This doesn’t make any sense. But Eddie pulls Steve – thick hoodie, naked ass and all – against his chest.
“You wanted it to be me?” he says, his voice quieter than he even thought he could pitch it.
Steve’s head rolls onto to Eddie’s shoulder. He pauses long enough Eddie think he’s gonna get let down again, long enough he can hear that he needs to clear the dust off the back of his fridge because that buzzing sound is back. He feels his own sweat cooling, the tickle of Steve’s hair against the side of his neck.
“I guess I want it to be you,” Steve finally says, and that’s fucking frightening, but something in Eddie snaps into place.
They talk about it, in the morning.
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m-writes-stories · 3 months
Text
I'm Always Here - Part 3
Warnings: hospital, passing out, pregnancy, drinking (of age), hints of sex, language, medical talk, bleeding, talk of death of baby, 
Word Count: 1531
1 month later
You were in the hospital. Three months ago you passed out in your bedroom. After 3 minutes of you not waking up Travis called 911. Once at the hospital, you guys found out that you were pregnant. You got nervous. Honestly you didn’t know if it was Travis’ or Sam’s.
2 months ago
You saw Travis at the bar. Your mom had convinced you to go to a party and now here you were. You were already very drunk. 
Your mom was watching Avery, so you wouldn’t have to worry about getting home to her until the following morning.
You got up heading to the bathroom and saw Travis get up, out of the corner of your eye. You walked to the bathroom and then was pushed up against the wall. 
“Hi.”
“Hello pretty girl.”
You couldn’t remember much of the night. But you did remember waking up the next morning, naked in Travis’ bed.
You were still shocked today. The doctor was nervous about your blood pressure and wanted to keep you in the hospital until they could keep it under control for more than 24 hours. Which had yet to happen.
Travis walked in with at least five bags in his hands. You looked over and saw him walking in. 
“What is all of that?”
“Options.”
“Of?”
“Everything. I thought I would go shopping and buy some self care items for you.”
“Travis, that bag says Louis Vuitton.”
“I may have also bought a lot of other things too. It’s all for you. Actually, I lied. I bought some things for Avery too.”
You laughed, smiling and moved over on the bed for him. 
“So this all is from Ulta. I got your favorite makeup and skin care. And I got you new shampoo since you said you were out. I got you a new Louis Vuitton purse. I call it the mom purse. But I also got Avery a backpack.”
“They gave me a due date and they’re gonna run a paternity test.” You said. 
“Oh.”
“You said that in a bad way.”
He grabbed your hand, “no, it’s just I want it to be mine.”
“I want it to be yours too. But what if it isn’t?”
“I’ll love it like my own. Always will. Does the due date match with our timeline?”
“Yeah, but I was with Sam the night before too. I’m so scared Travis. I haven’t even told him I’m pregnant yet.”
The nurse walked in. 
“We’re gonna do the test now so we’re gonna need a sample from Mr. Kelce.” The nurse says.
“Ok.”
Travis nodded and went downstairs to give them his blood sample. 
You waited a couple minutes before he came back into your room.
“Can we facetime Avery?”
Avery had been staying with Travis’s mom while you were in the hospital. Travis occasionally was with her, but with practice and wanting to stay with you as much as possible, it had to choose.
“Hey Travis.” His mom answered smiling. 
“Hey.” You smiled, “how is Avery?”
“She’s good. She really misses you guys.”
You bursted into tears. Travis rubbed your arm. Seconds later you saw Avery appear she was eating cookies. 
“Hi mama,” Avery said.
“Hi baby girl. How are you?”
“I good, mama. I love Gamma Donna.”
“I bet you do. I miss you baby. I love you.”
“We love you baby. Be good for Grandma Donna,” Travis says.
“I will.”
The doctor knocked on the door and they hung up on FaceTime. 
“Dr. Stevens, right?” Travis asked. 
“Yes.” He said, “how’s everything going today?”
“I’m okay. Can we just get to it?” you said, not wanting to make small talk.
“The test results.” He pulled them up on the iPad.
“Yes, the fucking test results. What else?” you snapped.
“They match.”
“So Travis is the father?” you asked.
“Travis is the father.”
You started to cry. Travis pulled you in for a hug.
“Oh thank the fucking lord,” Travis says.
He kissed the top of your head. You kissed him and it was a long passionate kiss. He loved it.
“I have some other news as well,” Dr. Stevens said.
“Ms. Y/L/N—“
“What is it?”
“You can officially go home. Your blood pressure has been stable since yesterday morning. Meaning we hit our 24 hour mark.”
Two hours later 
Travis was helping you into the car. You were happy to be heading to Donna’s for a bit. Travis was going to be staying there with you as well. 
You reached Donna’s house, when you felt all your emotions be released. You started to tear up.
“Honey what’s wrong?” Travis asked, looking confused and scared.
“I’m just so glad we are going home. I missed Avery so bad, and our bed, and not being bothered 24/7.”
He chuckled, nodding, “Yeah mom won’t bother you she’ll check in on you every once in a while.”
“Yeah I missed her too, especially her cooking.”
“Me too. Let’s go get out girl though. I missed her hugs.”
Travis helped you out of the car and up to the front door.
You both walked in and he got you settled into the guest room. Avery by your side. Travis went into the kitchen. 
“Hey, I didn’t even herer you guys come in,” Donna said, walking over to hug Travis. 
“Sorry mom, she’s settled into the guest room with Avery. We’re having another baby.”
“Oh that’s good.”
“Yeah, but anyway. I’m gonna grab some food and go get settled.’
“Oh, I made dinner. I’ll heat it up and bring it to you guys,” Donna said. 
“Thanks mom, I’m gonna help her shower and see if Avery wants any dinner. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?” Travis says to his mom. 
Travis goes upstairs and walks into the bathroom. He begins getting it ready for her shower. He puts her towel in the towel warmer. 
“Daddy, can I watch tv?” Avery asked.
“Yeah that’s fine baby girl.”
You turn the tv on a Disney movie and Avery becomes engrossed. 
“Come on baby,” Travis whispers in your ear.
He helped you into the bathroom and into the shower. The hot water soothes your skin and muscles. Travis helped you finish washing up and drying off.
You get back in bed and eat dinner. You finally get relaxed as you snuggle up next to Travis. You love this man. 
“I love you, Travis.”
“I love you too?”
“I just wanted to tell you. I don’t think I could ever find anyone else like you.”
“Well good, because you are stuck with me no matter what.”
“Geez that’s harsh. I could always run away and marry Jason.” You laughed at his facial expression, “ I mean he's got a great beard.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Kylie would let that happen.”
“You can’t see all three of us being in a relationship?” you laughed.
“Oh my god your nuts.” 
“You’re finally realizing this?”
“Nah, I’ve known since day one.”
The Next Day
You woke up to the sun shining through the curtains. You rolled over to find Travis’ side of the bed empty. You felt a wetness under your legs. You moved the comforter to find a blood stain.
“Donna!” You shout as panic runs down your body. 
She comes running in with Kylie and they both see the blood. 
“I’ll call Travis,” Kylie says.
Donna helps you into the bathroom to help you change into new pants.
“Travis is on his way,” Kylie comes in.
“I can’t lose this baby. I can’t. I might not survive it.”
“Honey, we're here for you.” Kylie says. 
“No, Kylie you don’t understand. I can't. If I lose this baby, I won’t survive.”
“You have us, Avery, and Travis.”
“Stop, you don’t understand. Yeah, Travis was happy when we found out about Avery, but we were also 19 and we were scared. When I told him I was pregnant again he lit up. I have never seen him happier. I can’t take this away from him.”
Minutes later Travis bolted into the house and flew up the stairs. He heard the women talking. He listened, staying outside the bathroom. 
It killed him to hear you blame yourself for this. He ran into the room about a minute later. 
“Travis?” you asked.
He hugged you. You lost it. 
“I’m so sorry, travis.”
“No, do not fucking apologize. You did not do anything. We are gonna go to the hospital and they are going to say that nothing is wrong.”
“Travis, something is fucking wrong, I’m bleeding.”
He carefully picked you up and ran out towards the car.
“Travis stop!”
He didn’t listen. He went to the hospital. He didn’t care. He wanted them both to be okay. He was nervous. 
Once you made it to the hospital, he got you out of the car and rushed into the emergency room.
“Help, my girlfriend is pregnant and she is bleeding,” he yelled.
Someone helped the two of you to a room and got some tests started. About an hour later, a doctor came in.
“Mr. Kelce and Ms. Y/L/N–”
“Mr and Mrs Kelce, please,” you said.
“I–”
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caesurah-tblr · 10 months
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EMETOPHOBIA TW!!! TW FOR GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS!!!
Enjoy this little POV of gl!Charlie after the events of the finale of Genloss, and what things might come after.
He opens his eyes.
The feel of the cold flooring of the mall doesn’t mix right with the warm feeling and coppery smell of blood. Fuck.
He’s gonna be sick.
Charlie empties the contents of his stomach, and it mixes with the blood. The smell is too much to bear.
Get up! His mind screams, Get the fuck up! You’ll die here if you don’t!
But it’s so hard. He’s so weak and tired…
Ranboo.
“Ranboo?” Charlie calls out quietly into the darkness, too afraid to attract the attention of the thing that had attacked him earlier. No response.
He lets out a sob of pain as he forces himself to his knees. The pain is almost unbearable, but it’s not as bad as-
There are hands in his guts. There are hands in his guts and they’re pulling out his insides bit by bit. Charlie is screaming, thrashing in his binds as his friend continues to pull him apart. He knows Ranboo isn’t seeing what he’s seeing, but he’s so desperate to get through the control and he’s in so much pain. So he screams. And Ranboo doesn’t listen.
Charlie heaves again, but there’s nothing left but bile that dribbles from between his lips. He’s gotta get up. He’s got to get up and find Ranboo so they can leave like they said they would.
He stumbles to his feet, nearly slipping on the horrible mixture on the floor. The wound isn’t as bad as it looks- it’s thick across his stomach and bleeding sluggishly, but the vest had kept the wound from being fatal.
“Cmon Charlie.” He mutters to himself “Just gotta find Ranboo. Just gotta find him and leave.”
Charlie flinches as he accidentally shoulder-checks a Showfall staff member, but they don’t seem to react. It’s almost like they’re frozen in time.
There’s the bright red of an exit sign that draws his attention. The door is wide open.
Had Ranboo gotten out?
Charlie makes his way towards it, like a moth drawn to flame. Every painful footfall causes the edges of his vision to flash, but he forces his eyes to stay open because he has to leave. He has to get back to-
To-
He doesn’t know. Charlie has no fucking idea what he was doing before this and the thought causes angry tears to well up in his eyes. Where did he come from? Was there anyone waiting for him to come home? Did his parents care? Did he have a girlfriend, or maybe a wife back home? Did she miss him?
“Fuck.” Charlie hisses out between gritted teeth as he leans against the doorframe for support. It’s okay. He’ll learn soon enough. Soon he’ll get to see his parents and get to hug that maybe girlfriend or wife and he’ll finally be free.
What’s supposed to be an exit to the outside is anything but that. The room is covered in wires and tvs, and hung in the middle like some fucked up mockery of Jesus Christ is Ranboo.
There’s a black box covering his head. The amount of blood and viscera on Ranboo’s jacket tells Charlie all he needs to know, but he has to check. For his own sake.
The box gives away after a couple of weak pulls, and the sound of metal leaving flesh will haunt Charlie for the rest of his days. The mask is broken, and hangs in tatters around Ranboo’s face. Or what’s left of it at least.
“Fuck!” Charlie sobs, “No! Fucking hell!”
Through the gore, he can see tear tracks. Ranboo is dead.
“I see you’re still alive.”
The voice makes him whip around. The man in the red hoodie- Hutch, he thinks that’s what Ranboo had called him- stands before him. Alive.
“But- You’re supposed to be fucking dead! We watched you die! Did you do this?!”
Hutch tilts his head, the dim light reflecting off the matte black of his mask making him appear much more sinister. “You know better than anyone here that looks can be deceiving when it comes to Showfall, Charlie. As for who killed Ranboo? Well, it’s Their fault.”
“Their?!” Charlie snaps, “Did They strap him down and put a metal box on his head?! Did They strap me down and force some unwilling participants to root around in my guts? They didn’t do this! You fucking did!”
He steps forward, hand reaching to his side. He had picked up Ranboo’s knife, but then he had been too scared to use it. But now?
Now, he was gonna end it.
“You killed them! All of them! Ranboo, Austin, Niki, Ethan, Sneeg, Vinny… They’re dead and it’s your fucking fault!”
Charlie lunges, knife held high, but before he can get any closer hands grab his arms. He struggles, but the blood loss has weakened him and he can’t keep up the fight.
Hutch hums to himself and taps his chin, pondering. “You’ve always been so feisty… The fact that I’ve allowed you to live this long says a lot about my charitable nature, you know.”
“I don’t want your charitable nature.” Charlie punctuates the sentence with a pull, pulling the two Showfall staff with him. He’s strong, and if he can fight the pain he can end this. “I want you dead.”
“Y’know, we don’t normally do reruns. Audience retention and all that. But for you I might make an exception.”
Hutch leans in close. “The things I’ve seen you do to survive. You don’t remember them, but I do. You think Ranboo’s was bad? I’ve seen you do things to people you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.”
Charlie leans away, shocked from the accusations.
“I’ve never hurt anyone.”
But it comes out weak because he knows it’s a lie. Even if he doesn’t remember it, Charlie knows he played the game like Ranboo, like Sneeg and like all the others. What had he done? Who had he hurt?
“All the blood on your hands says otherwise, Charlie. You were always my favorite, y’know? So spunky, and we never had to push very hard to get what we wanted out of you. I think a rerun will do just fine.”
With that, Hutch turns away and claps his hands twice.
“Run it back! It’ll be even better this time, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure of it.”
Hands grab him on all sides, forcing him onto the ground. Charlie screams and thrashes, fighting with everything he has to no avail.
Something cold snaps over his face- the mask, no- but it’s too late. He’s going back.
The last thing Charlie sees is the corpse of Ranboo, bloody and broken.
I’ll get out. Charlie promises the figure. I’ll get out, and I’ll end the cycle once and for all.
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pearynice · 7 days
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Chapter 4
Or, start at the beginning!
Summary: He never wanted this, is the thing. Never wanted to stay in Hawkins. Never wanted to work for his father. Never wanted to be the guy who peaked in high school. But once his options had dried up, this is exactly where Steve Harrington ends up.
Enter Eddie Munson, who tears all of that to shreds, thank god.
Excerpt: Steve’s dripping blood all over the front seat of Eddie’s van.  “Sorry.” He croaks, his hands cupped under his cheek as the blood pools in his palms, some of it slipping between his fingers to land on his jeans. Steve watches the drops fall, bright crimson dots that splatter against his light wash jeans.  He hopes they’re not out of stain stick. Eddie tsks, reaching across Steve’s lap and opening the glove box, rifling through before pulling out a crumpled mass of takeout napkins. “They’re clean.” He promises, and hands them over.  Steve, one handed, cups the napkins to his cheek. “Thanks.” He slurs, his mouth hot and swollen. 
“Don’t mention it.”  Then, over gravel and grass, Eddie pulls away from the dwindling party. The bumpy road makes the pain in Steve’s shoulder flare, and he hisses as his elbow knocks against the door.  “We’re almost on the road.” Eddie reassures, quiet. Steve closes his eyes, tries to focus on breathing, focus on the rise and fall of his chest as Eddie’s old van rumbles over the dirt. The napkins in his hand are already beginning to dampen, and he hopes his cheek slows before more drips over Eddie’s interior. His dad’s gonna fucking kill him. But he’s glad, at the very least, that Robin isn’t seeing him like this. He knows she’d panic, worry about tetanus and infection and prod him about hospitals and any other odd number of things until he’s spiraling right alongside her. But Eddie said he spotted her climbing into someone else’s car, and Steve hopes it was Vickie’s.  He maybe crosses his fingers that it was Vickie’s.  He hopes his parents are asleep by now, hopes they drank enough at whatever function they’d attended that they won’t wake when he comes home.  Steve lets out an exhale when they finally get on the road, the asphalt far more forgiving on his stiff and aching shoulder. “You can take a right up here.” Steve says, as they approach the stop sign. “I don’t live far.” Eddie snorts. “Yeah, like I’m taking you home right now.” The van slows. “Dude, your cheek is busted. Your shoulder needs set. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Steve jolts, his shoulder burning as he does. “Woah, no way, man. My dad will skin me alive if he finds out.” He swallows, pushing his panic down. “Just—take me home.” He adds, calmer. “I’ll be fine.” The van stops. Steve adjusts his hold on the mess of napkins, wishing he could see Eddie, see if he’s going to heed his words. But his eye is swollen nearly shut, and the thought of twisting to look at him makes Steve’s shoulder pulse. “‘Then ‘m taking you to my place.” Eddie decides. The van moves again. “My uncle’s a vet, man, he’ll patch you up.” Steve bites at his cheek. “‘S not that bad. Bleeding’s slowin’ down.” “And your shoulder?” Eddie asks, and Steve can see him flick his hand out of the corner of his eye. “Even I can see that thing needs set, man.” Steve’s quiet, and Eddie fiddles around for a moment before music he’s never heard before begins playing. Loud, with pounding drums and ringing strings, and it does little to help the pounding that’s beginning to set in behind his eyes.  After several turns he closes his eyes and tries to settle back into the seat, but pain shoots from his shoulder through his chest when he does, stealing the breath from his lungs. So he sits, straight backed and stiff, as the van rumbles on.  He wonders how the hell he’s supposed to play this off to his parents. If they’ll believe him if he says he didn’t start it.  Not long after the van stops again. Steve cracks an eye open to see Eddie hopping out, jogging around the front to open Steve’s door. “C’mon tiger,” Eddie encourages, holding out his hand for the third time that night, “bandages and painkillers await.”
Thank you to my beta, @ghostdeb
Tagging people who were interested, just let me know if you would like on or off 🫶
@hbyrde36 @starryeyedjanai @perseus-notjackson @hotluncheddie @theheadlessphilosopher @steddie-island @sidekick-hero @finntheehumaneater
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unfinishedslurs · 1 year
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steve gets vecna'd (stancy)
“Favorite song!” Nancy cries, shaking Steve by the shoulders. “Robin, what’s—“
“I-it’s, shit, uh.” Robin’s hands are shaking, terrified. “Careless Whisper! His favorite song is Careless Whisper!”
“George Michael? Fucking George Michael?!” Eddie shouts, scrambling through tapes. 
“Is this really the time for your music snobbery?” 
“It is when I don’t have any George Michael in my fucking trailer!”
“I’m never gonna dance again,” Robin sings. “Guilty feet have got no rhythm! Though it’s easy to pretend—“
“I know you’re not a fool,” Nancy joins. Her voice isn’t the best, but it’s better than nothing. 
She and Robin harmonize the best they can, trying to keep a rhythm amidst the panic. Then Robin has to break off. 
“Nancy, do you know all the words?”
She doesn’t stop singing as an answer. Of course she knows the words, she and Steve had listened to it together over and over again when it first came out. Neither of them are particularly good singers, but they gave it their all. Enduring more than a few disgusted looks from Mike when they had to give him a ride somewhere. 
She still can’t hear the song without smiling. It wasn’t the same without Steve’s rough voice in the mix, but that’s her own fault. She doesn’t get to miss what she gave away. 
Her voice rises above the noise of their friends, practically shouting when she reaches the crescendo. “Tonight the music seems so loud! I wish that we could lose this crowd.” His feet start leaving the floor, and she grips his arms desperately enough to leave bruises. “Maybe it’s better this way, we’d hurt each other with the things we want to say! We could have been so good together, we could have lived this dance forever, but now who’s gonna dance with me?” There’s tears streaming down her face, and her voice breaks when she sings, “Please—“
He falls. 
“Nancy?”
“Yeah?” She gasps out on a sob. He’s alive, her heart sings. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive—
“You’re kind of on my bites.”
“Your…oh!” She scrambles off of him. God, how could she forget he’d been eaten alive? She pushes the vest aside, examining them with a single minded determination that has no room for the embarrassed flush on her face. 
They’re bleeding again. Shit. 
“Do you think you can make it up the rope?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he says. She can hear the waver in his voice, and she knows he’s not sure at all. She can’t do anything about that, though. He’s got at least fifty pounds on her, she doubts she could help him up. 
She almost calls for Eddie, but Steve’s already heaving himself up the rope. 
He groans when he lands on the mattress, and everyone surrounds him instantly. Dustin throws himself down on top of him, and Steve lets out a pained yelp. 
“Bites!” Eddie exclaims, waving his hands. “The man’s been chewed on by hell beasts, Henderson, be careful!”
“He what?” Dustin shrieks.
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masterqwertster · 4 months
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Maybe 20. From the touching prompt list: bandaging/stitching up an injury. Do you think Ashton can get stitches with his skin?
No, I don't really think Ashton can get stitches. Not unless you're using, like, an industrial needle meant for poking through a lot of tough fabric. And even that feels a little iffy given the strength requisite to punch through means you're kind of running the risk of just straight up stabbing them with the needle and making things worse. But I have had a solution to No Stitches sitting on the headcanon backburner for a long while, so I'm thankful for the motivation to flesh it out. Also, this is going in Metamorphic
Sealant for My Wounds
Ashton is 13, almost 14, the first time he gets stabbed.
The wound sluggishly bleeds their wine-dark blood as they hold a cloth against it, listening to the others argue about how one is supposed to apply stitches.
“You've got to dip the needle in booze!” Zeeland insists.
“No, the booze is for the pain,” Sally argues.
“Yeah, you're supposed to put the needle in fire,” Bennet agrees.
“What?! No! Are you trying to burn them too?”
“We at least need hot water to clean the wound, yeah?” That one gets a general murmur of agreement.
Ashton lets the chatter about the best way to handle this wash over them. 
It fucking hurts. A throbbing in his side with every heartbeat. The pressure to minimize the amount of blood escaping his body. He’s never been hurt like this before. A hurt that sinks into him, past the surface of his skin. Deeper than a scratch, a cut. Sharper than a bruise. What will it feel like when it’s not so immediate? Ashton doesn’t know, is half intrigued and half afraid to find out. And a little bit dreading when this will happen again. (There’s no if about it. Not in a place like Bassuras. Not when all he’s got going for him is a body that can take a hit and dish them out)
Eventually a plan of action is decided upon. The needle and thread are prepared, the wound washed, and the burn of stolen alcohol washes down Ashton’s throat. (It’s certainly distracting, that coughing burn in their throat. They’re not sure how anyone can enjoy it without being some sort of masochist)
Jeto has the needle while the rest of the group has hands on Ashton to hold him down. Getting stitches isn’t supposed to be a comfortable process, yet it’s one that the patient should hold still for. And they know that Ashton, despite his slighter frame, can out muscle any one of them.
It’s a tense moment as Aston waits for the first tug of a needle through skin. A moment that stretches… and stretches… and stretches, even as they can feel hands at their side, pressing against the wound, causing it to spark with pain.
“Just fucking start already,” Ashton grouses, getting impatient for it to be over already.
“I’m trying! The needle’s not going through your fucking skin!” Jeto snipes back frustratedly.
“...What?” Ashton whispers, fear slithering down his spine. If he can’t get stitches, how the fuck are they going to hold the stab wound shut so it can heal right?
“Just gimma a sec. Probably just need the right angle or something– Fuck. Shit. Piss,” Jeto curses, hands moving away.
“Jeto?” Ashton asks nervously.
“You’re fine. Needle’s just bent. Shit.”
Fuck fuck fuck. Is Ashton going to have a hole in their side for forever? They can’t close the damn stab wound without stitches!
“Give me the needle. I’ll do it myself, since you’re weak as shit,” Ashton panics, already pushing against the hands holding him down.
“First off, rude. Secondly, this isn’t about strength. Anyone else, and I could have jabbed the needle all the way in with the kind of strength I was using,” Jeto testily explains. “No, the problem here is you’re a fucking rock person and our needle isn’t gonna punch through rock.”
Ashton stills at those words, fears confirmed. 
“...What do we do?” The words slip out, quiet and scared.
“Keep an eye on it and hope the caretakers give a fuck if it gets infected or some shit,” Jeto says in a practical tone with a shrug.
And they do. But it’s so fucking slow to heal, while any sharp moves or blows cause it to start bleeding again.
Ashton doesn’t find a solution until he’s left on the ground after a fight, watching his dark blood bind the dirt and sand into mud. Some strange instinct that never existed in him before insists he gather the earth bound in his escaped blood and return the whole mix to the wound it left. His rational mind screams that this is stupid and exactly how wounds get infected. But packing and plugging the wound with something to stop the bleeding isn’t that stupid. And at the worst, the wound will get infected and the caretakers will throw a fit about having to get a proper healer to fix him up.
And Ashton is an earth genasi, so maybe…
He follows the instinct. Scoops up the almost clay-like slurry and presses it into the aging stab wound, into the larger gashes this recent fight has left him with. 
It doesn’t feel bad. (It feels right. The earth returning their strength, their health)
He doesn’t tell the others what he did. Ashton doesn’t want the lecture, the arguments, the proclamations of idiocy. It’s not like they know how Ashton’s body really works anyways. Sure, it’s the same shape as a half-elf’s, but they’ve all already seen that the stone composition of it changes things. So who the fuck gave them the right to judge?
The others find out. Of course they do. 
But by the time they know, Ashton’s already found that those strange instincts were correct. Their blood mud sealed the wound, stopping the bleeding reopenings of the injury. And weird as it fucking is, their body seems to be integrating the mud, compressing and shoring it up into the same stone as the rest of them. Even small cuts heal faster with blood mud.
They call it fucking weird and strange (and creepy behind his back), but Ashton can’t find that he necessarily disagrees, even if it does make a strange sort of sense given his elemental nature. Mostly he’s just glad to have a solution for when he needs stitches.
So yeah. While I thought of the "blood mud to seal wounds" way before the titan blood reveal (actually back around when I first started writing Rockin' It, back during the Museum Heist), at this point, I'm kind of inclined to make it a titan blood thing. Ashton is just so wholly of the earth because of the titan blood that shoving dirt/mud in their wounds is helpful, like slip or sealant or daub.
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demigodofhoolemere · 5 months
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Things I can't stop thinking about from Steven and Vicki's Tales of the TARDIS episode
- This reunion. Seeing them together again kills me anyway, but when you look at the context of the last time they saw each other, both of them could have easily thought the other might be dead. The last Vicki saw of Steven he was bleeding out and slipping away from consciousness, and to Steven he woke up to learn that they'd left Vicki in a city that was being razed to the ground and its inhabitants slaughtered. There wasn’t a proper goodbye and neither could have known for sure whether the other had survived. These are two people who must have spent decades of their lives just hoping and praying that the other was okay.
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They take each other's presence in like it’s a miracle. I don’t know if they intentionally wrote/acted this with that particular context of their last time together in mind, but nevertheless it can very easily be read that way since their reactions lend themselves to it so well.
- ^ In particular, Steven’s voice breaks in a way that absolutely destroys me.
- Is this girlish giggling not the most Vicki thing you’ve ever seen?
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- There are certain moments that just really hit as, ‘This is them.’ I mean, look at her. That’s Vicki. It keeps blowing my mind.
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- Steven is SO happy to see her again, oh my word. “I’ve got my little sister back!” is gonna live in my mind for the rest of my life. To have that dynamic acknowledged in those words and to see how much they love each other kills me. Look at this unreserved fluff. This means the world to me.
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- Hearing that they’ve had wonderfully happy lives is so nice. Vicki could have been dealing with all kinds of turmoil given the time she chose to stay in, and with Steven’s luck he could have had literally anything happen to him, like Big Finish decided to do. I’m so glad they’ve been given full and happy lives onscreen, that Vicki has done so well in such a wildly different time and that Steven’s bad luck curse is finally broken. (The trauma curse is broken at least — it’s too much of a stretch for me to believe that he wouldn’t still have mundane bad luck lol.)
- Someone needs to either sue Peter for these faces or give him an award. There is so much emotion going on here and I can barely handle it. And knowing how much Peter truly loved this show and his time on it, I get the feeling some of this is real for him.
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- “Vicki, this might not be his TARDIS. I mean, can you imagine the Doctor wearing something like this?” Well I’m sure as heck imagining it now! Someone PLEASE make fan art of One in Six’s coat.
- Their reverence for the Doctor’s pocket watch. Vicki is so happy and clutches it with joy and Steven stares at it and strokes it for a good minute. 💗
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- Love having some skeptical Steven wondering if it could be a trap and warning Vicki to be careful. His older brother mode got reactivated so fast. And, “Don’t be such a spoilsport!” is so delightfully Vicki.
- Space helmet for a cow!!!
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- “Well, it had been a busy week.” Lol, more like a busy (or not so busy) 2 years on Mechanus! You’re more than excused!
- I know it was naturally gonna happen because they’re going over The Time Meddler but I love the references to the Monk, and I love that we also get a subtle reference to The Daleks’ Master Plan out of it.
- Another one of those moments that just strikes you. Look at him.
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- “He rescued me. I was an orphan and he became my family. I became the granddaughter he’d lost.” 😭
- Vicki’s little, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” dance is so perfectly Vicki. It warms my heart how well-characterized they both are here.
- Anyone else see this and immediately start crying thinking about her putting her hands over her eyes in The Chase? Just me?
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- Steven’s face when he agrees with her about wishing more than anything to see the Doctor again. I love his relationship with the Doctor so much, it kills me to see him emotional about it, to see how much he still loves him after all this time. But on top of it, once again I feel like there’s some genuine Peter in here who misses Bill. You can see in a lot of interviews, panels, commentaries and so on that Peter really truly cared about Bill as his friend and is still protective over him as a person and his character. When Steven makes this face in agreement about wishing he could just see the Doctor again, I feel something else very real in it.
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- Look at them. Just look at them. No further comment.
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- Vicki’s face hearing the Doctor’s laugh is my face.
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I still haven’t been able to get through this without crying at his laugh. I don’t really have the words for how magical and touching it is that they included him in that way. It tugs on my heartstrings so hard.
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mad-c1oud · 2 months
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the "I could keep you safe. they're all afraid of me" or "do you feel safe enough to come with me?" for starcicle....these are already so juicy for etoiles to say but also there is something so intriguing about scenarios where charlie is the one saying it..... maybe these ideas would be fun to write?
YEAHHHHH no way you looked at the same one as me and also thought "oh but charlie saying this..." it's like you read my mind. Gonna write about one here, but expect to see the other in a regular text post because oh man they are so fun to write...
Feel free to ask for more prompts yall!!!
+++++
(Warnings for depictions of serious injuries and shock)
"Do you feel safe enough to come with me?"
Étoiles startles out of his panicked-induced scrambling to stop and look at Charlie, eyes wide and breath stuttering in his chest. Everything is blurry but he still has his mask on so he isn’t sure what’s going on. “W-what?”
Charlie is unharmed save for a nick above his eyebrow which means Étoiles did his job correctly, but the fighter himself has been better, sure. The slime hybrid eyes his sluggishly bleeding wounds, stopping to blanch at where his hand should be before his eyes shoot back up and lock with Étoiles’ again. The next time he speaks, it isn’t as meek or unsure, “Do you feel safe enough to come with me? I-I think we’re near a cave system I recognize. Somewhere we can hide until we can uh…” He gestures vaguely to where the fighter is cradling his severed limb to his chest protectively, “Address that? Neither of us can go back outside like this, man.”
God, Étoiles hates that he’s right. There’s sticky chlorophyll dripping onto to ground from his wrist and there’s a suspiciously wet spot growing along his side that can’t be good. He’s down one hand, his scythe is still outside with at least four code monsters hovering about. He can’t respawn unless he wants to risk not being able to regrow his hand back later, fuck. They’re stuck in this cave Charlie dragged Étoiles into when he fell and he kind of hates it. Not Charlie, just being stuck. Useless.
“Listen, I know we don’t really know each other well and you’ve heard the rumors which are actually more fact than rumors I guess but I mean I had some pretty good reasons for—”
“Slime.”
“Okay okay sorry, what I’m trying to say is can you trust me this once? You’re kind of missing a hand and an eye and it’s really freaking me out, dude. Would you come with me? The codes can wait, surely?”
Non, ils ne peuvent pas attendre, Étoiles wants to protest before he registers what exactly Charlie said. He refuses to let go of his sword, bringing up his handless wrist to touch his cheek, wincing at the sharp, biting pain it causes. It’s amazing neither he nor Charlie gags at the sensation or sight, but Charlie must not find it gross and Étoiles is realizing he might be in shock. Weird. That doesn’t usually happen.
“Étoiles?” Charlie steps forward hesitantly, bringing his hand up, but stopping before it makes contact with his elbow. The sounds of fighting get louder outside and he starts to tremble, just a little. “You with me buddy?”
“Ouais,” Étoiles mummers, “You said my name wrong.” He notes distantly, grip on his sword lax. Charlie steps more into his space but doesn’t touch him yet.
“Whoops, maybe you can teach me how to on the way to my super-secret hidey hole, yeah? What do you say? Feel like walking with a misclicker?”
Étoiles should be on guard right now, especially when he’s down a limb and an eye but there’s something… comforting to Charlie’s tone, reassuring enough that has him sheathing his sword and grabbing for the offered hand, squeezing it tightly as Charlie beams.
“The ‘s’ is silent.” He mummers as Charlie urges him forward. Chatter from the hybrid fills the cave as he grips Étoiles’ hand with one of his, the other clutching a shitty, iron axe with the other. He forgets to worry about the code and finds it easier to breathe despite the cold, dark walls surrounding them.
He finds it easier to laugh too.
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spacerangersam · 4 months
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an extensive list of hcs i have about labour mp!fanny button because if i can't draw her, I'm gonna talk about her:
Died in 1992 from a heart attack, moments after catching George in the act with two other men at a party (while she was fully dressed, he was not, and that got almost more buzz than her actual death, much to her chagrin)
She never lived in Button Manor, just attended a few parties and meetings there, and has no familial ties to Alison
Her father was a Tory MP so she was raised conservative and taught to be the perfect politician’s daughter, quiet and prim, and to never make a scene lest she damage her father’s image
But then he went and ruined it himself in a drunken stupor, making their family a laughing stock
She later went into politics herself but turned to Labour, determined to fix what her father had ruined
(it’d probably make more sense for her to also be a Tory but shhh, let me have this. Also, yes, this backstory is very rachel fawcett inspired)
She became known as ‘that very scary labour lady who will catch you out in a lie and who has made at least one reporter cry'
She married George just for the sake of appearances, and while she didn’t care that he went around with men behind her back, she did care that he was sloppy about it and kept almost getting caught (again, because it’d look bad on her, the hapless idiot wife who married a man who doesn’t even like women)
They had one son, Roger. Fany didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. She saved her affection for her pets.
She smoked heavily out of stress, and does the same in death, having died with a cigarette on hand
Unfortunately, she also died with heels. When they get too much, she takes them off and just carries them around, walking around in her tights (though it takes her a good few years to be comfortable doing such a thing). I also think she should be allowed to throw them at the other ghosts when they’re being especially annoying 
I like to imagine that she’s slightly less uptight and concerned with being ladylike in this au - she still has hangups about what one should and shouldn’t do, and certain hiccups from growing up in a Tory household, but like, she’s not living in the Edwardian era anymore, she’s a mildly more modern woman. And she was only supposed to behave to keep up her image, and that doesn’t really matter now that she’s dead. 
She still thinks Alison’s tattoos are ugly though.
Post death, she likes to keep up with the news, both through the telly and newspapers, and always bugs Mike (the one who can see ghosts in this au) to go vote every year
Has personal beef with Thatcher. She will never explain what happened, but something definitely did.
Idk if she’d have Julian’s powers, but she could do. She’d deserved it.
She still has an interest in maths and from about sixteen took a vested interest in the family finances, trying to make sure her father didn’t completely bleed them dry. In death, she sometimes talks bank with Pat and I like to imagine them both getting very frustrated over the Cooper’s financial situation and trying to help in their own annoying way.
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mamachasesmayhem · 10 months
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Cover me up for Jake? 🥺
Ashley, my love! Prepare for more ouchies, part two to Living For the Night is incoming! It’s gonna hurt first, but I promise I’ll make up for it 🙈
Funnily enough, I had a completely different thought process on how I wanted this to go when I first got your request! But then Living For the Night came in and this painful idea came to be. I don’t have enough words to say how thankful I am for you steadily being there and reading my stuff, I hope this makes up for how long it took me to get this one out 🫣
Such damage was done
But I made it through, 'cause somebody knew
I was meant for someone
Honey
6 weeks ago
“C’mon, pretty girl, you gotta punch out!”
My head is fuzzy as I come to, but I’d be able to pick up Jake’s voice in a crowd with no difficulty. That’s when I finally hear Coyote frantically yelling my name, telling me to eject.
“Copy! Eject, eject, eject!” I grip the handle and tug hard, wind immediately whipping around me as my seat launches from the plane. I sigh in relief when I turn to see Javy following close behind me. In my daze, I don’t realize how close I was to the tree line. The second green flashes in my vision, I pull my chute and make a hard landing, which knocks me unconscious once again.
The next time I come around, I’m woken up to the sound of various monitors beeping and am in a hospital bed. I catch a glimpse of Javy running out of the door, quickly returning with a nurse in tow.
“Hi sweetheart, do you know where you are?” The elderly nurse with a kind smile asks me.
I shake my head no, or at least I try to, the motion sending searing pain through me and making me groan. “I know I’m in a hospital, but I don’t know where or why. What happened?”
The nurse, whose name tag says “Joyce,” tells me that I’m in the hospital following a hard ejection and pauses to let me sip on some water before she starts in on my injuries.
With a deep breath, she asks if I remember anything, which I softly answer no to. “Alright, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna go for it. You have a severe concussion, multiple fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a ligament tear in your hip, several deep contusions, and you suffered a miscarriage.”
It takes me a second to process everything she said thanks to the concussion. When her final words hit, I suck in a breath that is accompanied by sharp pains in my chest and stomach. “A miscarriage? I didn’t even know I was pregnant…I wouldn’t have gotten in the cockpit if I knew, I swear! I would never-“
The nurse quickly grabs my hand and cuts me off before I send myself into a spiral. “Oh, sweet girl. I don’t doubt that for a second. You were only about 6 weeks along, I’m not surprised you didn’t know. I know it won’t make it less painful, but the baby probably hadn’t even attached to your uterus yet, that’s how early it was. Given that, we won’t have to do anything surgical as it passes. It’ll most likely feel like a really bad cycle for you with stronger cramps and heavier bleeding. We can talk about it more later, you need your rest right now.”
She gives my hand a gentle squeeze before pushing more medicine through my IV and then heading for the door, pausing to let me know to push the call button if I need anything. Once she leaves the room, I turn to Javy.
“Javs…”
My eyes fill with tears and he’s quick to gently tug me into his arms. “It’s ok, Honey. You didn’t know. We’re just happy you’re alive, we thought we lost you for a little bit. Jake was beside himself, we all were.”
“Oh my God, Javy! Jake! Where is he?!” I’m scanning the room, looking for him or anyone else who may have tucked themselves into a corner, but I come up short.
“The rest of the squad got redeployed. Apparently the planes that intercepted us were part of a much larger fleet and they didn’t even make it off the carrier before they were sent back out. They’re still out there, which is why he’s not glued to your side. Since you and I both had to eject, we’re grounded until we’re medically cleared.” Javy explains as he gently rubs my back.
“Javy Thomas Machado! Are you ok? Please tell me you fared better than I did?”
I jerked back to eye him, instantly regretting it because holy fuck does everything hurt.
“I’m fine, Bubs. You pulled your chute too low, I’m guessing because you were barely conscious, which is why you probably feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. My landing was textbook, only a few scratches from the trees on the way in, but I’m perfectly fine otherwise.”
“Does…does Jake know? About the baby?” A fresh round of tears starts leaking down my cheeks.
“Yeah, he does. He…might have found this out under the insinuation that he was your fiancée when he called. They said they wouldn’t give out any info if he wasn’t family, and since y’all don’t have the same last name, he said you were engaged. Which is why they told him about the baby so easily. I’m so sorry, Honey. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to keep you from getting hurt.”
Javy’s grip around my shoulders tightened and I felt his own tears drip onto my shoulders.
“Don’t you DARE. You protected me better than anyone else ever could. Don’t even think otherwise. You saved me, ok Javs? I may be your backseater, but you’ve had my back more times than I could ever count. I’m gonna be just fine, I promise.”
Present
Javy barely left my side my entire hospital stay, which lasted a little under a week. Once I was stable, I was sent home on medical leave to rest for the next 2 months at minimum. Since I was on crutches for 5 weeks to heal from the surgical repair of my hip, I decided to crash with Penny and Amelia. Their house has no stairs, comes with two mother hens who double as guard dogs, and a certain blonde haired aviator doesn’t have a spare key to let himself in.
I haven’t been able to face him since they returned 2 weeks ago. I’ve ignored every call, text, email, and hell, even Instagram message from him. I’m not ready to see the look of disappointment I’m sure he’ll be wearing. Not only had we not talked about having kids, we hadn’t even discussed whether or not we were even exclusive. Did I know neither of us were seeing other people? Sure. But we hadn’t had the conversation. Plus, I had and lost his baby. I’m close enough to both him and his family to know that he’s definitely hurt. I’m not ready to hear him tell me he can’t do it anymore, that he can’t look at me without seeing what he lost. Despite every plea for me to call him, just talk to him, I leave him on read. He’s man enough to let me down in person, he won’t do it via text. So maybe, if I just keep ignoring him, I won’t have to feel the hurt I know is coming when he tells me he’s done.
Javy, Nat, Bob, and the rest of the Daggers have tried telling me that I have the wrong idea, but I know they’re just protecting me because they know I’m fragile. Between all the therapy to help me heal from the event and process my future, I’ve been a train wreck. My physical pain has all but disappeared, only a few twinges here and there if I move just the right way. But my emotional pain hasn’t made much progress. Getting over the terror of almost dying in the wreck, the damage the injuries did, losing the baby, and the constant anxiety over my future in the navy has been heavier than I ever expected. I’ve slowly warmed back up to everyone. Everyone but Jake.
And the old lovers sing
"I thought it'd be me who helped him get home"
But home was a dream
One that I'd never seen 'til you came along
Jake
The squad finally convinced me to join them at Penny’s tonight for Mav’s birthday. I'm holding out hope that I’ll bump into Honey tonight, but I don’t think my odds are favorable. Knowing her, she escaped the house she’s been staying at before everyone else was expected to get there. She can be evasive when she wants to be. And damn does she want to be. It’s apparently a surprise party, so she asked us to all come straight over from work since Mav planned to stop by Ice’s grave on the way home. I walk up to the door, a bottle of Mav’s favorite scotch tucked into my elbow, and lift my hand to knock on the door. Before my knuckles make contact, the door is yanked open to reveal Penny with her finger at her lips to shush me. My brows raise in confusion but I roll with it.
It’s oddly quiet when I walk in and I see my closest friends silently standing around the dining room table. Javy then points to the couch. My heart damn near falls out of my ass when I see what he’s pointing at. It’s a vision I’ve missed desperately; Honey napping on the couch. She’s always been perfection to me, her soft body curving in all the right places. I’ve never been the guy that’s into model skinny girls. I like to know I won’t break her when I get rough, and I really like to get rough. Honey’s always had warm, soft skin that’s perfect for leaving hickies and fingerprints on her chest, hips, and thighs. Which is why my heart crumbles a little more, seeing her looking so frail, her face significantly thinner and her arms looking a little bonier with less muscle.
My eyes dart to Penny, wordlessly searching for the ok to lift her into my arms and carry her away from the crowded room. She seems to understand what I’m asking and nods before tipping her head to the hallway on her left. I silently scoop her up and almost cry when she nuzzles her cheek against my chest. Once I find the open door, I peek into the room and my suspicion that it’s the room she’s been staying in is confirmed when I see her favorite blanket at the foot of the bed. I gently shut the door with my foot before sinking down into the bed, still holding her tightly to my chest. I tell myself I’ll let her go in just a minute, I just need a little longer to hold her, a little longer to let her warmth fill the cracks in my soul. I shift on the bed until my back is leaned against the pillows, Honey’s head is laid on my chest, and her legs are draped over mine.
Just a few more minutes.
A few minutes turned into a lot of minutes, my shitty sleep schedule finally caught up with me and I quickly fell into a deep sleep. I wake up when I feel Honey stirring and moving to sit up and see the dark sky through the slats of her blinds. The sun was most definitely still up when I brought her in here.
“Jake?” Her sleepy voice is soft and the confusion is clear in her tone.
“Hi, Honey. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I’m sorry,” I grumble out, lifting my hand to rub the sleep from my eyes.
“I thought I was on the couch? Oh man, did I miss Mav’s party? I bet Penny’s pissed!” She shifts to stand but my hands land on her hips, preventing her from going anywhere.
“She’s fine, I promise. If anything, she’s happy you’ve been resting and that we finally have a chance to talk. If she was upset, she would have woken you up when you were on the couch instead of letting me carry you to bed.”
“Jake, I can’t do this. I’m not…I’m not ready for this! I don’t think I’ll ever be. I know you’re mad at me, I do. And I deserve all the anger, but I’m not ready for my heart to break again before it’s even healed because I ruined everything!”
Tears flow freely from her eyes as she half heartedly pushes at my chest.
“Honey, no. You’re wrong, I- “ My words are cut off when she shoves at my chest again and raises her voice.
“No! Don’t lie to me Jake, I know you hate me! You don’t have to let me down easy, ok?! Just get it off your chest and let me go!” She starts sobbing and I tug her into my chest again, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tight.
“Honey, shhh. You can let it out. Crying until there’s no tears left if you want. But when you’re done, you’re gonna listen to what I have to say, alright?!”
I feel her nod against me then start rubbing soothing circles on her back with one hand, the other tangles in her hair and tucks her face into my chest as she cries. We stay like that for a while, whether it be minutes or hours I’m not sure. Her sobs turn into stuttered breaths before eventually evening out into a steady rhythm.
“You ready to listen to me now, pretty girl? I’ve been losing my damn mind waiting until you were ready, but now that I’ve got you here, I don’t think I can let go until you’ve heard me out.” My hand started gently stroking her hair, a tried and true trick to bring her comfort when she’s stressed.
Her voice is hoarse and weak when she replies. “Go ahead. I’ve held you off long enough.”
My hand continues its pattern for a few minutes, running my fingers across her scalp and through any tangles they encounter in her hair, as I articulate my thoughts. I drop my forehead to the top of hers, taking a deep breath, then kiss the crown of her head before I start talking.
“Honey, being away from you these last 6 weeks has been the most painful experience of my life. First, not being there when you woke up. Then not being by your side when you got the awful news. And then you avoiding me? That shit sucked, babe. But the worst part about it all is you thinking that I’d be disappointed in you, that I’d be mad at you, that you think I’m not so stupidly in love with you that I can’t breathe without you! Darlin’, I know we never talked about it, but it hurt me too knowing we had a baby and lost it. I can’t imagine how painful going through that must have been, not only physically but emotionally. I wish you would have let me be there for you.” I take the chance to pause when my voice cracks over the last sentence.
“…you’re not mad at me?” She squeaks out. “Not just for losing the baby, but for getting pregnant in the first place?”
I let out a harsh chuckle at that. “Sweet girl, it takes two to make a baby. How could I be mad at you for that? Besides, the idea of having a baby with you isn’t one I detest, but we can have that conversation another day.”
“Wait…what? You’re stupidly in love with me? Is this some way to make me feel better? Because if it is, I-”
“Dammit woman!” I cut her off the only way I know how, by slamming my lips against hers and kissing her until she’s breathless.
We pull apart and she opens her mouth to speak again, but I cut her off by clapping my palm over her mouth.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ stubborn, but damn if it doesn’t make me love you more! Now, are you gonna listen to me or do I need to kiss you some more?”
She locks her eyes on mine, giving me a slight nod to let me know I can continue.
“Now, explain to me why you think it’s just a way to make you feel better.”
She sighs and shifts her gaze to her hands where they’re clasped in her lap. “We never talked about our…relationship being more than what it is. You’ve never been a long term kinda guy, you said it yourself! I thought that maybe it was your feeling like you owed it to me to be there or something, I dunno. I’ve seen the trail of broken hearts you’ve left behind and I don’t know if I can handle being one of them, ok? I thought maybe if I didn’t give you the chance to break me, I’d get away unscathed. But then this happened. And now that I know there will always be a part of me that was also a part of you, even for a tiny bit of time, I also know that’s not a possibility anymore. As if it was ever a possibility.”
“Oh, my sweet Honey girl. You were never gonna be part of that trail, because you’re the destination. I didn’t know I needed you until you popped into my life. With your bubbly personality, damn near permanent smile, incredible sense of humor, brilliant mind, and let’s be honest, jaw dropping looks, you knocked me on my ass. I didn’t think I’d ever wanna settle down, I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love. My parents adore each other and I knew anything less than what they have isn’t worth it. I never thought it was in the cards for me because I didn’t think I would ever look at someone like my dad does my mom. But then there was you. Javy knew it before I did, but you’re my once in a lifetime girl. Remember that trip we all took to Mexico, when that monkey clung to you and wouldn’t let go?” I pause to let her answer and she lets out a soft “mmhmm.”
“Well, turns out my wingman snapped a picture of me looking at you. He waited until we got back and he dropped me off at my house to show it to me. When he did, he grabbed the picture I have of my parents I have in my living room. He handed it to me, not saying anything as he unlocked his phone and flipped it around to show me the picture. When I looked between the two, I noticed two things. One, that I’m a dead ringer for my dad at the same age. And two? The look in my eyes as I smiled at you was identical to the look in his as he smiled at my mom. Now you’re who I wanna come home to. Whether it be just you and me, a dog, kids, or all of the above; I want it all. Wherever you are is where I want to be, for as long as you’ll have me. I love you, Honey. With every fiber of my being.”
My eyes flit across every freckle on her face as she processes what I just said. Tears drip from her eyes and I start to worry I royally fucked up. I’m about to start talking to try and dig my way out of the hole I found myself in when her hands land on each of my cheeks.
“I love you too, Jake Seresin. I want all of that and more, I want everything you’ll give me. I do have a question for you though, and I need you to be completely honest with me.”
“Of course, anything.” I’m quick to reply.
“Would you still love me as much if I wasn’t a badass WSO, saving your ass at every turn?”
I almost think she’s just teasing me until I see the sincerity in her eyes. I reach out and brush my thumb across her cheek, swiping away the remnants of her tears.
“Sweetheart, I’d love you just as much as I do now in any situation, in any lifetime, in any universe.”
“They’re talking about permanently grounding me. They discovered a heart condition while I was in the hospital and I haven’t told anyone about it. I’ve been killing myself over trying to decide what to do, over whether I should fight the medical retirement option or accept it and move on. I don’t want you to think this is all dependent on you, but if the dog and the 2.5 kids is what you want in the future, I think I know what I wanna do.”
My chest squeezes at her admission, she’s gone through so much by herself and it kills me that I haven’t been here to help her through it. But that all changes right now.
“Honey, I’ll be beside you no matter what you decide. You wanna fight it? I’ll be right there with you, ready to duke it out. You wanna take the out, use that brilliant brain in one of the thousands of other ways you can help people? I’m here for that too. Whatever you decide, you won’t be alone in your journey. You have me completely, and now that you know it, I hope you’ll let me help shoulder some of the burden from her on out.”
It’s her turn to kiss me breathless as she crawls into my lap and locks her arms around my neck. My hands land on her hips and every ounce of tension my body has been carrying for the last two months just melts away. Laughter from down the hall reminds us of where we are and the fact that we’re not alone. Honey pulls away from me, much to my dismay, and rests her forehead against mine. We sit like that for a second, basking in the comfort that only we can give each other, before she climbs off of my lap and onto the floor, then reaches her hand out for mine. I wordlessly tangle my fingers with hers and she tugs at me until I stand up. She pulls me to the door, opens it, and I happily follow her down the hall like a puppy. Once we step into the light of the living room, all eyes fall on us and our joined hands.
“Thank fuck! Best birthday present ever!” Mav says, jumping up to wrap us both in a tight hug. The room erupts in cheers, and I swear I see a tear in Javy’s eye.
“I’m so claiming the first speech rights at your wedding, since it was my birthday that brought you two back together and all!”
Tagging some of my squirrels because I’m so codependent it’s not even funny 🙃 @dakotakazansky @desert-fern @roostette @startrekfangirl2233 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @cassiemitchell
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gagaslonina · 1 year
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Bandages (Crime AU!Kepa Arrizabalaga)
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Word count: 1.8k
Summary: Kepa is a sweetheart when you scrape your knee on a night out.
This is part of my general crime au one shot series. The first of which can be found here!
Thank you to @yassinebounou​ for being my beta reader and lovely bestie 🥰
"Owwww, ow, ow, ow, okay fuck that hurt!" You sit on the curb, inspecting your throbbing knee. Your ankle hurts too but thankfully less so, only aching dully instead of pounding pain with each beat of your heart. 
"At least you wore a red dress," Chloe quips, sitting next to you and looking over your knee. "It's not that bad. Slap a plaster on it when you get home and you'll be fine."
Mea sits on your other side, "can confirm, you'll survive! I've seen wayyyy worse than that in school, and they've lived. Which means you will too, so there's no need to worry!"
"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt! I haven't fallen like that since-" 
"Since you fell for Kepa?" Chloe grins at Mea and offers her a high five for her quick comeback. You roll your eyes at both of them, wincing as you get to your feet. 
"Ha ha, very funny. I'm absolutely losing it right now," you respond with a straight face. Both girls laugh, and they're lucky you love them or you'd leave them here to find their own rides. 
Instead you all squeeze in the backseat of an uber, instructing them to drop you off at the gate outside Kepa's home. The throbbing in your knee is duller by the time you arrive and the bleeding has stopped, which is definitely a good thing. 
"Right girls, you know where your rooms are, and you know where the kitchen is if you need a snack! I'm off to bed so goodnight!" 
Arm in arm, your friends lazily make their way towards the kitchen while you head upstairs. Nights out are certainly always eventful with those two around, but normally you don't wind up bruised and battered. And if you do, it's usually because of your own clumsiness, not because someone knocked into you. 
Kepa is already lounging in bed when you make your way to your room. You pause in the open doorway, mesmerized by his bare, toned abdomen and the muscled arm tucked behind his head. He sets his phone aside when he hears you, "Hola me vi- ey, what's happened?"
Kepa is at your side in the space of a blink. Or maybe it's longer than that and your head is fuzzier than you thought- those margaritas had been rather strong. Oh well, whatever the reason, Kepa always seems to move quicker than humanly possible when he's concerned about you.
"Mi vida? What's happened to your knee? Is anything else hurt?" His mottled brown eyes scan you from head to toe, assessing you for any further injury. When you shake your head to confirm nothing else is the matter, Kepa kneels to inspect the damage. He gently prods the skin around the cut, murmuring an apology when you whine in discomfort. 
"Would you please stop touching it? It's painful Kep. I just wanna get changed and sleep for the next week so I miss the hangover I know I'm gonna have." Holding Kepa's broad shoulder for support, you step out of your heels with a relieved sigh. "Now if I could steal one of your shirts- hey!"
You yelp when Kepa sweeps you up in his arms with no warning. You lock your arms around his neck, thankful that he doesn't drop you. Once your surprise has worn off you cuddle into him, breathing in his cologne as you place light kisses along his jaw. 
Does Kepa taste good? You can't remember. You swipe your tongue over his neck and immediately regret the decision. "Ew- why do you taste like medicine or something?" 
"I just shaved amor. It's aftershave that you taste. I wouldn't recommend licking me anywhere else either because I just showered so it'll probably taste like soap."
You frown, crossing your arms over your chest when Kepa sets you down. You frown harder when you realize you're not in bed like you requested, "umm why am I in the bathroom? I don't need a shower! And my skincare can wait until tomorrow!"
Keeping one hand on your hip to make sure you don't try and bolt, Kepa roots around in the drawers on your left until he pulls out a few cotton rounds and a bottle of antiseptic.
"Noooo Kepa please don't, please, that's gonna sting so badly! Really I'm fine, it's only a small scrape!"
Kepa straightens and softly kisses your lips. Any and all protests you come up with are silenced, forgotten about in the wake of his mouth on yours. His thumbs rubbing across your cheeks when he pulls away, brown eyes staring into yours. 
"Let me look after you okay, and then we can go to bed. All I'm gonna do is clean up that scrape and cover it up so it doesn't get infected and then take your makeup off for you, because if you don't you'll break out and regret it in a few days time. And I'll tell you what… if you sit and be my buena chica, I promise to let you have as many kisses as you want."
"That's not fair, you know I won't say no!" You grab his arm, nails digging into his flesh. "Babe pleaseeeee just do it later! I don't want it to hurt more!"
Kepa is a sucker for you puppy dog eyes. It's not a trick you use often because you don't want the effect to wear off, but tonight you look up at him with big doe eyes and a pouted lower lip. He nearly breaks, you can see the shift in his posture, but once he blinks hard you know it's best not to fight. He's set in his mind and he won't let you sleep until he's tended to your scratches. 
"Fine, go on then and hurt me. I guess love means nothing anymore!"
Now Kepa laughs, kneeling once more to gently dab the soaked cotton on your knee. Your knuckles are white on the edge of the counter for the first few seconds until the stinging fades to a manageable level. Once you're done silently cursing Kepa for forcing you to do the safe thing, you take this opportunity to study the man at your feet. 
Kepa is completely at your mercy like this and he knows it. One shove of your foot on his shoulder would put him off balance, allowing you to escape to freedom. But he knows you won't because he trusts you. 
You learned fairly quickly that Kepa's trust isn't something he gives out lightly. With most people it takes years to earn a modicum of trust from him. But with you? Sure there were a few initial hiccups, like the time he thought you ratted him out, but after that incident he has trusted you with a blindness that sometimes worries you. 
And while you would never dream of betraying the love of your life, you worry that you've dulled Kepa's edge. You love the soft side he shows you on nights like this, but you see his harsh side less and less with each month that goes by. If he trusts the wrong person because you've taught him to be open… you would never forgive yourself. 
"Kepa?"
Kepa's hum is the only indication that he hears you. He's concentrating on carefully covering and taping your knee, avoiding the tender areas so you stay comfortable. When he's done he stands, towering over you so you have to crane your head back to see his face. 
"Close your eyes. And ask what you want to ask."
You do as he says, letting your eyes slide shut when you feel his fingertips brush the underside of your jaw. The makeup wipe he carefully drags across your face is cold, reminding you of your concerns.
"How come you're not so cold anymore?"
You can hear the amusement in his voice, "I've been warm since the day we met, amor. My body temperature hasn't changed, I assure you." 
"No that's not what I mean!" You sigh, peeking your eyes open. "I mean like… your attitude. You're softer now than when we met. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."
Though you don't explain it properly, Kepa understands what you mean. He taps your chin so you close your eyes, "trust me, you've not changed the way I act with anyone outside my inner circle. I'm cautious, always have been and always will be. If anything, having you waiting at home for me means I'll be twice as suspicious, because now I have a reason to want to come home safe." He kisses the tip of your nose and continues, "I promise you don't need to worry about me. I'll be safe and I'll always come home to you."
A weight lifts off your shoulders with each word. You smile when he finishes with your makeup and lock your legs around his waist to keep him close. Physically touching is never close enough to him but you make do. 
With your hand on the back of his neck you draw Kepa in for a mind melting kiss. You swear your soul sighs whenever you kiss this man, satisfied and full. 
Your lips tingle when you finally pull away. The only sound in the room is that of your breathing. You allow yourself to enjoy this moment of peace, the likes of which come few and far between. Kepa must sense the tears pricking your eyes because he tucks his head into your neck and wraps his arms around you, hands on your bum so he can safely carry you to bed. 
He takes his time helping you out of your dress, which you are delighted to find does look even better on the floor like Kepa suggested it would before you left for the evening. He guides your arms into one of his oversized plain t-shirts, knowing you hate the texture of your silk pajamas when you're drunk. Then he tucks the covers around your body, maximizing the warmth of your little cocoon before he cuddles up next to you. 
The whole scene fills you with so much adoration that you're afraid your heart will explode. Your big, strong lover boy turned into a little cuddle bug. You smile, reaching out to pull Kepa closer so you can kiss him again. 
"Don't stop being soft for me, okay?" 
Kepa shakes his head, his hand finding your jaw. "That's a promise I can make."
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onirislanding · 1 month
Text
Bleed for my baby bird
This is very much a songfic of "Blackbird and the Fox" sung by Greg Dulli and Ani DiFranco that I have listened to obsessively for years and always wanted to write a fic for. I might do a part 2 if anyone's into that.
Update! Full fic now on A03.
Steddie | Post-S4 | Rated M for language, discussion of sex
CW: Steve's a fuckboy in this but not cheating. Not technically.
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The CB mounted on Eddie���s dash crackles to life. Oh, please no. He’s the kind of tired that makes him feel like all the bones in his shoulders were broken and then badly reset. They can’t need him back on the job now.
“Car 69,” he says, because if they’re really gonna haul him back to the field, into an overnight, they can deal with his snarky ass. 
“Oh, hey.” That is not the dispatcher, or the chief, or anyone else. Too gentle and worn out. “Hey, sorry, Ed. Over.”
“Uh,” Eddie says into the mic. He makes the turn onto Clarkson one-handed, missing the bulk of his old van. He always overcorrects in this stupid Dodge. “We’re not on walkies, Harrington. You don’t need to say over.”
“You want to, though, right?” 
“Fuck you, dude,” Eddie says mildly. “How are you even calling me? Over.”
Steve laughs but it’s faint and a little sad and Eddie would squeeze his eyes shut if it didn’t mean risking crashing into a tree. 
“Uh, the person I’m with, um. Has a radio, and.”
That’s all she wrote. The exhaustion that felt baked into Eddie’s insides is dissipating, adrenaline and concern quickly filling in the spaces.
“Steve, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. . . not wrong, exactly,” he replies. 
It takes a little over fifteen minutes to get to the address Steve gives him. The house is compact, with a neat fence and some younger looking trees. Not much in the way of flowers. And just one unfamiliar car in the driveway, because Harrington went home with some douchebag. Again. 
Between the location and how new it looks, it’s a safe assumption that Steve just fucked one of the federal workers that Hawkins has been inundated with in the rebuild. Terrific. Another suit. Explains the radio, at least.
Eddie flattens his palm and leans on the horn, hard enough to feel like he’s shouting. 
“Hurry the fuck up,” he mutters, and slides out of the car. 
After a minute, the front door creaks open and out steps Steve, in a short sleeve button down with his hair as artfully askew as always. There’s a guy behind him, a little shorter, maybe a red head. Eddie can’t completely tell in the dark. 
Steve turns back to say something and the guy visibly cranes his head around to get a look at Eddie. Who’s leaning up against his own car, in his street clothes but smudged with soot and grime. He takes a deep drag off his cigarette, aiming his glare in the dude’s general direction, and shrugs.
Steve walks down the little flagstone path – could this house get anymore trite? – as Eddie sharply chucks his cigarette butt into the driveway. 
“Thanks,” Steve says sheepishly, and gets into the passenger side without another word. 
They’re just emerging from the development, heading toward Piedmont, when Steve pipes up again. 
“Sorry,” he says. He leans back against the headrest and closes his eyes. “I didn’t – I forgot you were leaving work. I didn’t really think you’d pick up.”
How did – oh, right. Eddie reeks of smoke and his face and arms are all marked up with it, despite the protective gear he has to wear.
“It’s fine,” Eddie says. “Does it bother you? Upside Down brimstone and all that.” It’s kind of crappy work but the pay is good. Camaraderie formed on the job with other townies is better. Turns out once you’re putting out rift fires together and saving newbies' asses from certain death on the regular, they’re a lot less likely to jump you on Main Street. 
“It doesn’t smell like that place at all,” Steve says. Sounds pained. “Just like fire. And sweat. Dustin says you have hyperhidrosis,” Steve adds, a touch of snark in his voice.
“Jesus Christ, that worm child,” Eddie says. He loves that worm child more than almost anything, but still. “I literally work with fire.”
“I like what Rob says better,” Steve says. “Like a whore in church.”
“Calling your limo driver a whore now, Steven?” Eddie asks. Decision made, he bypasses Pine Road. 
There’s a pause. “No,” he says. “Sorry.”
That won’t do. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I am your whore.”
He slows to a stop and waits for the green. Risks a glance at Steve, who is sitting up straight now, eyes wide open. He rubs at one temple with a balled fist. Migraine, then. Eddie feels the flare of anger start to catch, an oncoming blaze of protection and lust.
“This isn’t why I called you, I don’t know –” The light turns green and Eddie takes off, certain now of where they’re going. He can’t look at Steve now, eyes on the road and all that, but he can feel him shift, knows he’s glaring through what might be a bad headache. “You passed my turn.”
“No shit,” Eddie says. He bites the inside of his lip, focuses hard on the dark and the dirt beneath his headlights. If he doesn’t get them back to his place fast he’s going to do something stupid on the side of the road. Something very hot, but also fucking stupid.
“So what was it this time? You couldn’t go through with it? Pop a migraine? Which sucks, don’t get me wrong.”
After a beat, Steve just says, “Yeah.” He sounds minutes away from passing out, or giving up. This just won’t fucking do.
“You know why you called me,” Eddie says. This combination, rage and lust and affection. Eddie thought for a while it couldn’t be healthy. He’s rethinking that assessment, the closer they get to his house. To his bedroom. To where he gets Steve Harrington all to himself, fuck those other guys.
“Say it.”
“I. . .” Steve says. The car feels humid all of a sudden. Eddie can smell himself, metal and ash, and the slightest bit of Steve. Vodka. Bergamot in his cologne, coconut in his shampoo. 
“I wanted it to be you,” he says. The simmering heat in Eddie’s stomach breaks free and drowns him, right there in the driver’s seat. 
“Good boy,” he says, and takes a sharp left.
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