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440mxs-wife · 2 years

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In the Nick of Time

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader. Other Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Thor Odinson and Loki Laufeyson. Also Dr. Ivan Zalinsky (OMC), Ryan (captured SHIELD Agent)

Word Count: 9329

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, hospital stay, medical experiments with drugs, gunshot wounds, use of pet names (sweetheart, baby, Solnyshka) BUT still has the right amount of FLUFF and an ending with a twist......?

Summary: The last time you heard Bucky’s voice, he was being taken prisoner. The man behind it is Dr. Ivan Zalinsky, the man responsible for unlocking your enhanced abilities. He’s threatened to do the same to Bucky, which you cannot and will not allow. Time for a rescue, but will you be successful?

A/N: This really was only supposed to be two parts. But my daughter and unofficial beta-reader, @phoenixisred, talked me into writing a Part 3. Bless her little pea-pickin’ heart. :) There will be a Part 4, which will be a crossover with another fandom, which will be obvious by the surprise in the ending. You can catch up on Part 1, Perfect Timing here and Part 2, Running Out of Time here. Enjoy!

A/N 2: Translation: Solnyshka = Sunshine

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Where am I? you wondered. Beep. Beep. Beep. You could hear the machines that were monitoring your condition as they emitted a steady rhythm of signals. The numbers for your vital signs like your BP, pulse rate and oxygen level were reflected on the screen. The numbers indicated that they were at a normal level, but you were still unconscious.

You could feel the delicate touch of someone holding your right hand. For a fleeting moment, you thought that Bucky had somehow escaped and made it back to you. Then your eyes flew open as you realized he was still stuck in that HYDRA base, and it was up to you to get him back. With a sharp gasp, you sat upright in the bed, straining the wires and setting off the alarms for the machines monitoring you.

"Whoa, easy there, sweetie. Shh, we've got you. Come, sit back on your pillows and relax," Wanda soothed.

You fell back against your pillows as directed, which stopped the machines from going wild with their readings of your vital signs. Off to your left, you noticed Steve sitting in a chair, looking like he hadn't slept well in a few days. "Hey there, Sunshine. How you doin'?" he asked.

Sunshine. One of Bucky's many nicknames for you, his favorite. "Been better, Steve. By the looks of it, so have you. How long have I been out?" you wondered.

"Couple of days. What's the last thing you remember?" he inquired.

You searched your memory of two days ago, when you returned to the Tower. "I came back after I heard James' voicemail message about going on the mission," you started, choking back a sob. "I got a taxi to bring me here as soon as possible. After I put my stuff in our room, and I saw you all in the COMMs room....I knew something had gone wrong. I shouldn't have left here, Steve," you whispered, the tears now flowing freely down your face. "I never got to tell him....."

"Hey now, try not to think about that right this second. You know those HYDRA missions go wrong about as many times as they go right. The important thing is for you to rest, because we've got work to do, and we're going to need your help," Steve replied. "And Sunshine? Don't worry, you'll get your chance to tell Bucky....whatever it is you never got to tell him," Steve promised with a wink. He gave your hand a final squeeze, then he and Wanda stood up from their chairs. Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked out of the room with Wanda, closing the door behind them.

"I hope so, Steve. I really hope so," you replied softly. Now that you were sitting in your room alone, your thoughts drifted back to what you'd heard of the mission. Not only was Dr. Zalinsky alive, but he was holding Bucky prisoner, threatening to do to him what had been done to you. There was no way you were going to allow that happen to anyone else, let alone the love of your life. You just had to figure out a rescue plan and put it into action. As you let your mind wander, the tendrils of sleep slowly took over your brain, and you had no choice but to close your eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky heard the heavy door in his cell slide open and looked up as Ryan got pushed inside. Ryan was back from his "session" with Dr. Zalinsky. Bucky wasn't sure how much more the agent would be able to withstand before it would be too much. He had to figure out a way for himself and Ryan to get away from the facility and to a nearby safe house before any HYDRAs knew they were missing.

His thoughts drifted back to you and what you might be doing back at the Tower. He hoped that whatever was going on, that you were safe and unharmed. Bucky knew that Steve and everyone else would be looking after you, making sure you were okay until he could be rescued. He also knew that the worst part would be the waiting, and he hated that he was putting you through it.

That last day before he left on his mission kept playing on a loop in his head. When you told him of your new work assignment, his first reaction was that you'd be putting yourself in danger. Bucky did enough of that on a regular basis to know that there was no way he wanted that for you. Even when you explained that you wouldn't be going into the field, all he could see was you returning to the compound hurt or worse.

Bucky was sitting on his cot, head resting on the wall behind him and eyes tilted towards the ceiling. If only I had slowed down and at least listened to her, been more supportive instead. Dammit, I know she's a strong woman, smart, fully capable of handling COMMs for a mission. She can do just about anything she puts her mind to. Wish I'd said that rather than what I did say, Bucky thought. He'd take back what he said, just for the chance to see you again. "Oh, solnyshka, my solnyshka," he mumbled. "I miss you so much," he whispered. When he closed his eyes, a single tear slid down his cheek.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A couple of days later, you were released from the MedBay and allowed to return to the room you shared with Bucky. Although it was nice to be out of the MedBay, the room felt empty without your super soldier boyfriend. At the moment, you were sitting on the edge at the foot of your side of the bed, facing the headboard, lost in thought.

Alpine hopped up on the bed to join you, her right front paw no longer causing her pain. The same ability that allowed you to communicate with her also included healing properties. She nudged at your hands that were clasped in your lap, making you chuckle. "You want some attention, pretty girl? Is that it?" you asked. You reached out your hand to pet her luxuriously soft fur, which helped to reduce some of your anxiety about the current situation with Bucky.

You heard knocking at your door, and called out to the visitor to come in. "Hi, Wanda. Any news on James?" you inquired wearily.

Wanda took a seat on the edge of the bed on Bucky's side, facing you. In response to your question, she shook her head. "Nothing yet, honey. That doesn't mean they've stopped looking, although Fury seems to be convinced that they haven't moved him," she reported. "It's only a matter of time before we find them, until Bucky's safe and sound back here with you."

"I hope so, Wanda," you replied wistfully. "I need him as far away from Dr. Zalinsky as possible. There's a reason that maniac was kicked off campus all those years ago. Too many people were having adverse reactions to whatever he was handing out during his 'study'. As it was, I only took two or three doses of the stuff, but I quit taking it before his program was shut down. But I'm afraid that the meds I did take only made a bad situation worse," you explained.

"What did it do to you?" Wanda asked.

"At the time, Zalinsky told me it would help with the headaches and dizziness. I wasn't that far into the trial, and I would still get migraines off and on. I figured it wasn't working, so I quit taking the meds. There were others farther along in the program, and it made them extremely suspicious of those around them. Also made them paranoid, convinced that someone was lurking around every corner, out to do them harm," you added. "Some of them had even started acting out and in violent ways. The university's official statement chalked it up to 'adjustment issues' between students, which kept it mostly out of the press."

"How awful!" she gasped.

"Yeah, and it's the reason why they booted Zalinsky off the campus. I didn't think much of any after-effects causing me problems until that big headache hit a few weeks ago that put me in the MedBay. That's when Dr. Cho did the CAT Scan and found the red spot. She said it's the part of my brain that manages my ability to communicate with and heal animals. Like Alpine here," you smiled as you scratched behind the feline's ears.

"If you want, I could teach you how to control your ability, how to filter out some of the 'noise'," Wanda offered.

"Would you? That would be fantastic, Wanda, thank you. Because I'm definitely going to need that control when I go in with the team to rescue James," you noted grimly.

"Whoa, hold on a minute. Have you cleared that with Steve, Tony or even Fury about going on the mission?" she questioned.

"I have to go with them, Wan. Zalinsky said he would finish with James whatever had been started with me. I have no idea what those pills would've done to me, had I kept going with them. James has been through enough already, and I refuse to let Zalinsky make things worse for him. Besides, there's no telling what might happen if you combine the super serum and whatever Zalinsky's working with," you noted grimly.

"All right, meet me in the gym in an hour, and we'll start your training. The sooner you can control your ability, the sooner we can tell Tony to fire up the quinjet and go out after Bucky. Sound like a deal?" Wanda asked, holding out her hand for you to shake.

"Sounds like the perfect deal for me, Wan," you replied, enthusiastically returning her handshake. The two of you dissolved into giggles and fell into each other's fond embrace. "I just miss him so much," you choked out. "He may not be perfect, but for me, he's korol moego serdtsa," you added. (king of my heart)

"I know, darling, I know," she soothed and tightened her hold on you. "But for now, let's focus on harnessing this ability you now have, and see how we can turn this into an advantage in the field. One hour?" she kept her hands on your shoulders and leaned back to lock her gaze on you.

"One hour, Wanda," you promised. "Thank you." One final squeeze and then Wanda left your room.

During the next week, you worked with Wanda on controlling your ability, all while trying to keep your mind focused. It was difficult, especially since you knew that for each day that went by, that was one more day that Bucky was in danger from Zalinsky. Each time those thoughts invaded your concentration, you felt the effects right away. Slowly you were learning to filter out those thoughts and focus on seeing his face again, feeling his arms around you when you rescue him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

One day, you, Steve, Tony and the rest of the team were in the conference room, reviewing various strategies for extracting Ryan and Bucky. The approach they were favoring so far was a brute force attack, using all available Avengers to bulldoze their way in. You knew that Zalinsky and HYDRA would be expecting this, but no matter how many times you voiced this opinion, it was dismissed.

"Tony, there are other ways besides blasting your way through at the front door," you attempted to remind him for what seemed like the fortieth time. "It's not exactly subtle, either."

"Oh, and you know this because of your extensive field experience, is that it?" he retorted. "Why don't you go practice talking to the animals, Dr. Doolittle. That way you leave the strategy meeting to the grown-ups, hmm?"

You slammed your hands on the table causing everyone to shift their focus to you. "DAMMIT, Tony, could you quit being an ass for two seconds?!? Zalinsky and HYDRA are holding a highly trained asset--their highly trained former asset--and a SHIELD agent of yours. They KNOW we're going to come after them and attempt a rescue. Maybe it's better that we try going through a back door or finding some other way in," you remarked.

Tony stood across from you at the conference table, barely containing his fury at you, his arms folded across his chest. "Fine, what is your proposal, O Gifted Strategist?" he smirked.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at Tony's sarcasm, because you finally had his attention. "Wanda has been working with me on filtering out a lot of the background stuff that comes with my ability. Helps me to focus on one particular animal, bird, insect, etc., so I can determine how to communicate with it. Now, I'm not perfect at it yet, but for my plan, I believe I have enough of a handle on it to make it work."

Tony briefly glanced at Wanda, who nodded at Tony and smiled her encouragement at you. "What I'm suggesting is this: HYDRA has cameras everywhere, so they'll be able to tell when we're within a certain range. If we could somehow disable those cameras, we can slip in undetected," you began.

"Hmm. I suppose we could try and hack into the cameras," Tony mused.

"I was thinking of a really low-tech approach," you replied. Tony raised one eyebrow as if to indicate that he was still listening. "There's bound to be rats or mice in a place like that. I can communicate with them to chew through the wires or otherwise block the camera. As soon as that's done, we break in." When you finished, you looked around at the others. Some were nodding their heads, some were deep in thought. Tony, however, did not seem impressed.

"Seriously? This is what you've come up with? Rodents to chew through the security camera wires, then we just waltz right in there and break out the prisoners?" Tony retorted. "Please tell me the rest of you aren't buying this--this--amateur plan. Nope, playtime is over, kiddo. Besides, there's no way I'm letting you tag along on this mission," he vowed.

You could feel the tears gathering behind your eyes, but you were determined not to let Tony or anyone else see them. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you locked your gaze on Tony. "For this plan to work, I must be on-site to communicate. They are holding two of your people, a SHIELD agent and an Avenger, one of whom I am extremely attached to. For better or worse, Zalinsky gave me this ability. Please let me use it to rescue the man I love," you pleaded.

For a moment, it looked like Tony was seriously considering your plan instead of his own. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Then he abruptly raised his head and shook it in rejection of your plan. "Nah, sorry. Can't do it. I just don't see this kind of a plan working out," he remarked.

You started to walk out when a radical and dangerous thought popped into your head, but unfortunately didn't stay there. "Or, you could always use me as bait," you suggested.

Everyone began to immediately protest, shouting over each other that it was a bad idea. "Wait a minute, please!" you implored. "Listen, you heard Zalinsky when Ryan and James were taken. Either he uses them for his lab experiments, or he grabs me and tries to finish what he started with me when I was in college," you reminded them.

The room erupted again, with a chorus of objections rising from all sides. The noise was starting to affect you, and Tony didn't appear willing to look further into adopting your plan. So, you left the conference room to get away from the commotion and into somewhere quiet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ryan paced the floor of the cell, muttering to himself. Clearly, the effects of the medication were starting to take hold, though Bucky wasn't sure if the meds were the cause. The constant motion of Ryan, along with his muttering under his breath, was making Bucky feel somewhat uneasy. He was sitting on the military cot, wedged into the corner next to the wall.

"Could you stop with the pacing? You'll only end up wearing yourself out, then someone will have to carry your ass out of here when they rescue us," Bucky grumbled.

Suddenly Ryan stopped in his pacing to glare at Bucky. "There is no rescue, you know. No one's coming for us," Ryan retorted.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "What do you mean, of course there's a rescue. The team is just waiting for the right time to barge in and lead us out of here," he affirmed.

"The team doesn't even know where we are, so they'll just waste time trying to find us. Then when they don't, they'll leave us here," Ryan snapped.

Bucky jumped up from his cot in a flash, and picked Ryan up with both hands, holding him against the wall. "Listen up, because I'm only gonna say this once. Nobody is going to abandon us. Zalinsky and whoever else is filling your head with this crap is lying to you. And you have to figure out a way to fight what the meds are doing to you or things are gonna get worse. Understand?"

All Ryan could do was nod his head, at which point Bucky let go of him. Once free, Ryan resumed his pacing, but only for a few minutes until he ultimately settled on his own cot. Bucky had taken up his previous position on his cot, one knee drawn up to his chest with his arms curled around it. "I know you're out there, solnyshka. Please come find me," he whispered to himself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So this is where you ran off to," a voice behind you stated. You had escaped to the roof and were curled up in one of the chairs, a blanket from your room draped around your shoulders.

"Go away, Loki. I'm not in the mood for anyone telling me about my lack of field experience, or that my ideas won't work. I already know I have no mission work under my belt, but I believe that my suggested plan of action has merit," you retorted.

"Which one? Plan 'A', where you direct your army of animals, insects and other creatures? Or Plan 'B', where you offer yourself as bait in exchange for the SHIELD agent and Barnes?" Loki probed, his eyes narrowed at you.

"Better me than them!" you exclaimed.

"You can't be serious!" Loki retorted. "How can you say that? You are just as important around here as Barnes and the other agent. So, what do you really think we should do?" he asked.

"You're right," you acknowledged quietly. "Logically, Plan 'A' is the best choice, where I use my ability to sneak on base. Wanda's been working with me on how to better focus my powers, but.... The only time my concentration really breaks is when I think about James being hurt," you admitted, dropping your gaze.

"Norns, you're in love with Barnes, aren't you?" Loki asked.

Eyes still cast downward, you nodded in confirmation of your love for James Buchanan Barnes. "I am. With all of my heart. Only we had an argument before this last mission, and I didn't get a chance to tell him that before he left," you sniffled. "I have to get him back, Loki. If I didn't think Tony would fire me or arrest me on the spot, I'd hijack his stupid plane right now to go after him. Anyone else is welcome to tag along," you remarked.

"Perhaps stealing a quinjet won't be necessary, darling. When I left the meeting, most of the team was trying to convince Stark of the merits of your Plan 'A'," Loki revealed.

At that moment, the door to the roof opened, revealing Sam Wilson. He walked over to where you were sitting and crouched down to your level. He held his arms out in invitation, which you took advantage of by launching yourself at him. "Oof! Aww, hey, babygirl. How you holdin' up, hmm?" he asked as he rubbed your back to comfort you.

"I'm okay, Sam," you replied. Your voice was muffled by his shoulder, so you drew back a little before speaking again. "As long as you tell me we're leaving soon to go and rescue James," you added, looking him directly in the eyes.

"Yeah, Tony sent me to find you two," Sam mentioned. "We've got the makings of a plan, and he wants to run it by everyone. Make sure it's airtight, no margin for error."

"Are you sure he even wants me there? I mean, with all of the field experience I don't have, I'd be surprised if he accepts any feedback I'd give," you grumbled.

Sam gave you a slightly exasperated look. "Come on, just hear him out. At least he's willing to discuss your idea, instead of going in all guns blazin' like he wanted to do before," Sam gently chided.

"I'm sorry, Sam. You're right. Let's go back to the conference room and see what Tony has to say. You with us, Loki?" you asked as you moved towards the door.

"Right behind you, darling," he replied.

The three of you returned to the conference room, where Tony revealed the plan to rescue Ryan and Bucky. Every so often, someone brought up a point that hadn't been considered, then everyone would discuss how to handle it. Finally, a formal battle plan had been devised, with a departure time decided to be three days from now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was 2:37am on the day of the mission to rescue Bucky and you couldn't sleep. You decided to run through your mission prep list in your head. You had a bag with weapons sitting on the floor next to the bed, which Natasha had helped you pack yesterday. Another go-bag with a change of clothes, toiletries and other necessities was leaning against the weapons duffel.

A tactical suit was hanging on the back of your closet door, waiting for you to slip it on. At the moment, though, you found comfort in wearing Bucky's red Henley. The cuffs covered your hands like mittens, and you had on a pair of black sleep shorts underneath. You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning your back against the headboard, thinking.

"Mrowr" you heard, followed immediately by the appearance of your snowy-white feline. She placed both front paws on your knees and gazed longingly at you. With a chuckle, you reached over and pulled her fully into your lap, scratching under her chin and feeling the vibrations from her purrs.

"What am I going to do with you, hmm?" you mused. "Now, listen. Peter promised he would take really good care of you while everyone is gone, but you still have to behave. You know that what I'm doing is important, otherwise I wouldn't be leaving you for someone else to look after. I'll be back before you know it," you affirmed. You weren't sure who you were trying to convince more, though, Alpine or yourself.

Your best hope is for everything to go according to plan, and that you quickly find Ryan and Bucky unharmed. However, you also remembered hearing enough tales of past missions to know that things rarely went that way. That's why you kept your back-up plan to yourself and promised that you would only use it as a last resort.

A soft knock at your door sounded and was followed by Natasha slipping in then re-closing the door behind her. She walked over to where you were sitting on the bed and climbed up to sit next to you. "So, first op. Are you nervous?" she asked.

You nodded, then turned to face the super-spy and former assassin. "I mean, I'd be dumb not to be nervous, but I know this is something I have to do. I can't let Zalinsky do to James what he's done to me," you replied. Staring at your hands, you added, "I really don't know how you all do this, time after time. I hope you know, you all have my deep and undying respect for doing it."

Nat threw her arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. "And it's okay that you're feeling this way. Hell, I'd be afraid if you weren't feeling at least something about it. Just remember your training, and also who and what you're doing this for. You'll be all right, and the team has your back," she remarked.

"Thanks, Nat," you choked out. "I appreciate everyone's help in getting me this far. I won't let you down." You took a deep breath and asked, "It's time, right?" you inquired.

Natasha nodded, then hopped off the bed and walked around to your side. You had climbed down and were readjusting the pillows when she reached you. "Let's go get your boyfriend back, hmm?" she grinned.

She waited while you changed into your tac suit, then you linked arms with hers and walked towards the door. Natasha picked up the weapons bag at the door, then you picked up the other one. The two of you headed towards the hangar, each step increasing the butterflies in your stomach. Once you reached the quinjet, you and Natasha handed the bags to Steve, who was meticulously stacking the incoming cargo. He paused long enough to give you a hug and mumble some words of encouragement.

When Steve pulled back, he asked, "I'm just helping load up, but I'll be back here, with the COMMs team. You ready for this, Sunshine?"

All noise in the quinjet came to an abrupt halt and it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. "'M ready, Cap. Before we take off, I want to say 'thank you' to all of you. I couldn't do this without you," you replied.

"Especially me, since it's my aircraft we're using," Tony smirked. "Strap in everyone, so we can get this show on the road." Each team member did as he asked and you felt the aircraft lift off the ground and head towards its destination.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Zalinsky entered the control room and examined the current footage from each camera. There were cameras pointed down hallways, at each exit and especially in the prison block. His eyes landed on the monitor for the interior of Ryan and Bucky's cell. A sinister smile formed on his face as he silently observed. Ryan was pacing the room as usual, while Bucky sat on his cot watching, but with no expression on his face.

"Oh, Soldat. Soon it will be your turn to participate in my glorious experiment. I'm excited to see how your serum-filled body will react to the medication," Zalinsky grinned.

"Doctor, he's just....sitting there. That's pretty much all he's done since we locked them in their cell. What if he doesn't react?" the technician asked.

"The mind powers of the Soldat are considerable. Probably more so, the longer he's been 'decommissioned'," Zalinsky spat out the last word. "It will be interesting to see how long it takes to break him. Especially when I mention Solnyshka," he remarked darkly.

As the men stared at the bank of monitors, they noticed that one by one, the screens were showing static then going dark. "What is happening?!?" Zalinsky thundered. His face paled when he saw your face on one of the hallway cameras. You looked directly into the camera and gave him a one-fingered salute just before it cut off.

"I don't know, Doctor," the technician frantically responded. He fiddled with the knobs and switches, desperately trying to restore video communication.

Zalinsky huffed in exasperation at the technician's inability to fix the problem at hand, and stormed down the hall. Soon he was in front of the door for Ryan and Bucky's cell. Zalinsky barked at the man guarding the door, ordering for it to be unlocked. Zalinsky took a deep breath to try and regain his composure, before barging into the cell.

"Well, well, Soldat. It appears that your friends are here to rescue you, and they brought me a gift. One of my former test subjects, your girlfriend, has broken into my base. I'm sure they think I'll just let you waltz out of there with them. Not a chance, Soldat," Zalinsky sneered.

Bucky remained seated on his cot, trying to look unaffected, but inside his heart was racing. Is he lying?? Or were you really here? he thought. Part of him knew this was no place for you, while another part of him couldn't wait to see you, hold you in his arms. That would have to wait until everyone was safe and on the way back to the compound. Bucky shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied nonchalantly, his eyes never wavering from Zalinsky's glare.

Zalinsky snapped his fingers at his guards, then gestured for them to grab Ryan and Bucky and take them to the lab. Bucky had yet to see the lab, but given his past experience, it wasn't anywhere on his top 10 list of places to visit. Zalinsky's guards gripped Ryan's and Bucky's arms and marched them down the hallway to the lab, with the scientist following behind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As soon as you knew the cameras were down, you made your way down the corridor. Natasha led, followed by Wanda, you, then Loki. That left Tony, Sam and Thor outside to keep a path clear back to the quinjet. The COMMs team back in the compound told you that Zalinsky was on the move with Ryan and Bucky, and they were headed for the lab. You asked for directions to the area, with the intention of intercepting them.

>>>

The guards continued to lead Ryan and Bucky towards the lab. They stopped every once in a while, hearing the sounds of gunfire, from both inside and outside of the base. Bucky caught Ryan's eye and sent him a look that said the team was here, and that they would be rescued. In return, Ryan gave him a quick nod as the men continued to be shuffled to the lab.

>>>

When you came to a T-intersection of hallways, you heard the ramblings of Dr. Zalinsky. You could feel the slow burn of a pain in your head at just hearing his voice. Taking deep breaths, you tried to push the pain out of your mind, using some of what Wanda and Loki had taught you. The pain seemed to subside for the moment, allowing for a little easier breathing.

"We must be....near the....lab," you whispered, still fighting through the pain. COMMs confirmed your assessment, saying Ryan and Bucky had just entered the room. They were still each being held by Zalinsky's guards, while the doctor considered his next move. "I'm going in," you declared, as you tried to move past Wanda.

Loki grabbed your arm and pulled you back. "Don't be stupid," he hissed. "We can't protect you if you go in there alone with four guards and a deranged scientist," he pointed out.

"Hold on, let me think," you murmured. A shot whizzed past your head, embedding the round into the concrete wall in front of you. Shouting from behind you brought your attention to the group of HYDRA soldiers who had stumbled upon your position.

>>>

"Strap these two into the chairs while I prepare the solution," Zalinsky ordered. "Then go outside and see what the commotion is. Eliminate the threat, or I will eliminate you," he declared ominously.

The guards did as they were told, then ran out of the room. "Soon, Soldat. In just a few moments, you will be taking part in my greatest experiment. Once it is perfected, I will not hesitate to unleash it on the world," Zalinsky smirked. "Don't worry, your sacrifice will be duly noted in my files," he added.

>>>

Outside the lab doors, Natasha and Wanda had taken on Zalinsky's personal guards. Natasha delivered blow after blow, kicking and punching one guard until he lost consciousness. On the other guard, she swept his legs out from under him. When he fell, she managed to wrap her legs around his neck and squeezed until he was knocked out as well.

As Wanda faced off against her assailants, bundles of red energy crackled in her hands. She kept them by her sides until they moved close enough, then she let them go. The men were sent flying down the hall, colliding with the other HYDRA agents who had found your team. A couple of them managed to get a shot or two off, but Wanda easily blocked the rounds with her energy bubble.

While the others were occupied, you took the opportunity to slip into the lab so you could free Ryan and Bucky. Ducking bullets as you went, you briefly caught Natasha's eye when you rounded the corner. She gave you a quick nod before returning her attention to taking down the guard in front of her.

"James!" you exclaimed. You raced over to the contraption he was strapped into and frantically unbuckled the restraints. As soon as he was free, he swept you into his arms and engulfed you in a fierce embrace. You nearly melted at the feel of him finally in your arms, and Bucky was more than happy to hold your body against his.

Bucky pulled back a little then cradled your face in both of his hands and pulled you towards him. "Oh, sweetheart, what are you doing here?!? You should be back at the Tower, where it's safe! What were you thinking?!?" His fear and scolding quickly gave way to words of love, all delivered between fervent kisses. "I never thought I'd see you again, baby. I'm never letting you go again, my love, you belong with me."

"I'm sorry, James. I know you don't want me anywhere near here, but I couldn't let them do this to you. I had to help you, and I hope you can forgive me," you pleaded.

"No apologies needed, doll, and you are completely forgiven," Bucky replied. He pulled you in for one long, passionate kiss that he hoped conveyed how much he missed you.

The sound of someone slowly clapping hands in the background interrupted your reunion with Bucky. "Isn't this cozy, the Soldat and his Solnyshka," Zalinsky taunted. "You shouldn't have come back, my dear. Now I get to finish what I started with you," he threatened.

Before you or Bucky could respond, Loki appeared in the doorway, followed by Natasha and Wanda. The corridors were quiet, so you knew they had neutralized the threat. Now it was a matter of removing Ryan's restraints and making your way back to the safety of the quinjet.

"Looks like I have quite a few new test subjects. No matter, everyone can have a turn, but Solnyshka is first. She will be my greatest triumph," Zalinsky smirked as he drew a syringe from a pocket in his lab coat.

Instinctively, you stepped closer to Bucky's side, and in response he tightened his right arm around your shoulder. While you tried to think of a way to get to Ryan without causing harm to yourself or anyone else, you noticed a green mist appear at Zalinsky's feet. You watched as the green mist formed itself into a snake that began to coil its way around Zalinsky's body.

Zalinsky began to laugh despite his inability to move his feet. "Your pitiful attempts at magic do not scare me," he scoffed. After his outburst, a red mist appeared at his feet, also forming itself into a snake. It coiled around him in the opposite direction, then both snakes squeezed.

With Zalinsky's arms pinned next to his body, it was impossible for him to move, and he was forced to drop the syringe. The object shattered and the liquid created a puddle on the cement floor.

The two snake heads each bared their fangs and took turns snapping their jaws at Zalinsky. Each time, they came close to biting him, only for them to pull back at the last minute. You could see the fear in his eyes, despite his attempts to keep it from showing.

While the snakes were toying with Zalinsky, Natasha quickly released Ryan from his restraints. As soon as he was freed, he bolted out of the chair, then Natasha ushered him out the door. The two of them, plus Loki and Wanda started running for the exit. You and Bucky followed, his hand in yours as you both ran along the corridor towards your escape. "How long will the magic last?" you called.

"Hopefully long enough for us to get to the exit," Loki answered over his shoulder, to which Wanda nodded.

In your ear, you heard Tony tell Thor to fire up the quinjet so that it was ready to go once everyone was inside. He and Sam were waiting by the exit in case anyone was injured and needed to be airlifted to the jet.

You felt a shot whiz by your head, while another grazed your right arm, causing you to cry out in pain. Bucky's attention shifted to you, trying to figure out where you'd been hit. "It's okay, James, just grazed my arm," you gritted out. Blood started to drip down from the gash in your upper arm.

"FOOLS!! Did you think your magic was enough to stop me!!" Zalinsky roared as he released another round from his weapon. This time, you were hit in the back, just to the side of your right shoulder blade. You dropped to the floor from the force of the impact, which pulled on Bucky's hand and he could tell that this was more than a graze.

"Come on, sweetheart, we're almost there," Bucky coaxed, trying to help you up. You got to your feet and tried to run again, but the pain was too intense and you fell to your knees. Without a second thought, Bucky scooped you up into his arms and cradled you against his body. He took off at a run and quickly covered the now-short distance to the door leading to the outside world.

Once everyone was through the door, Bucky passed you off to Sam, who flew you to where the jet was ready and waiting. Bucky closed the giant, thick steel door with his super strength before Zalinsky could follow. With a blast from his Iron Man gauntlet, Tony melted the lock and fried any circuit boards contained within it, which kept Zalinsky from reopening the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

With everyone on board and accounted for, Tony worked the controls and the quinjet lifted off. Instead of turning back towards the compound, he maneuvered the aircraft so it was pointed at the base. He locked in a set of coordinates that were then fed to the missiles.

"Bit of unfinished business, if you don't mind," Tony explained with a smirk. He pressed the button on the control panel, which unleashed the missiles. Soon the HYDRA base became an enormous fireball, and when that cleared, all that could be seen was a pile of smoking concrete. He used the thermal recognition setting in his helmet to scan the area for survivors. When none were detected, Tony set course back to the Tower in New York.

As soon as Bucky was on board, he immediately made a beeline for you, where your wounds were being tended. The bullet graze on your arm was already cleaned up and bandaged by the time he got there. You were sitting sideways in a chair while the on-board medic was putting in the stitches on your shoulder wound.

Bucky pulled up a chair to sit on your left side, taking your hand in both of his. He pressed a lingering kiss to your left temple and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, the scent of your strawberry shampoo invading his senses. "Sweetheart, I missed you so much," he murmured against your skin.

Tears began prickling your eyes before you responded, but had yet to fall. "I missed you too, James. I'm sorry for what happened that day before your mission. I should've waited to--" you started to say, but were interrupted.

"Baby, no. Listen, I handled that all wrong. I should've listened first and been more supportive of you wanting to help the team. You're smart, and I know you'll be great at COMMs, because you can do just about anything you set your mind to, darlin'. Besides, if I have to have anyone's voice in my ear, bossin' me around, I'd pick yours every time," he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

You giggled at his comment about 'bossing him around'. "Thank you, James," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. The medic had already finished with your stitches and cleaned up the area.

As you looked around, the events of the day finally started to sink in. Bullets zinging in your direction. Getting shot twice. Sneaking down corridors of an enemy base, hoping to not get caught. Successfully rescuing your boyfriend. Tears were streaming down your face, but you didn't realize it until you saw Bucky's smile falter and he reached to brush them away.

"Solnyshka, what's wrong? Why the tears, my love?" Bucky asked as he carefully drew you into his arms. You pressed your ear to his chest so that you could hear his heartbeat, which provided some comfort to you. Bucky's whiskers tickled your scalp as he dropped kisses to the top of your head.

You lifted your head from his chest and tilted back a little so that you could lock onto his beautiful but troubled baby blues. "I'm okay. I think it took until now for everything to catch up to me," you chuckled nervously.

Bucky breathed a visible sigh of relief. "Well, once we get back to the Tower, we'll get cleaned up and change into comfy clothes. Then I'm going to hold you in my arms and never let go," he declared.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," you whispered. "Um, there was something else, though. Something that's been on my mind a lot lately, James," you remarked.

"And what's that, sweet girl? Whatever it is, you know that you can tell me anything," he reminded you.

You nodded and took a deep breath before responding. "I....I love you, James. I can't believe it's taken me this long to tell you, because I've known it for a long time. And I'm not just saying it--" your speech was halted by Bucky's index finger on your lips.

"Darlin', love of mine, I love you too. I meant it when I told Zalinsky I would take your place, that I wouldn't let him harm the woman I love," Bucky explained. He tenderly grazed your cheeks with the back of his knuckles and gave you a small smile. Then he slid his hand around the back of your head and pulled you closer to him.

The brush of his lips against yours was tentative, almost like his apology for what happened between you before the mission. You showed him your acceptance by cradling his face in your left hand, caressing his scruffy cheek with your thumb before deepening the kiss in return. As his silky, plump lips moved in tandem with yours, his hands drifted down to your hips, pulling you closer.

When the kiss was broken, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting heavily, trying to catch your breath. "I love you so much, doll. My heart is yours for the taking, although you've always had it, since the moment I met you," he smiled softly.

"You mean that day I was reading on my lunch break? I remember you startled me when you sneaked into my office," you teased. "Was that the moment? Or was it when you caught me 'dancing while filing'?" You smiled as your index finger delicately traced the sharp edge of his jawline while you waited for his response.

"All of it, sweetheart. Those certainly were some good moments, though," he chuckled. "You've always been that ray of sunshine I've needed in my life. That's why I call you my solnyshka," Bucky whispered.

You could feel the tears springing to your eyes at his heartfelt confession. Then you curled your hand around the back of Bucky's neck to tug him forward. "I love you so much, James," you replied with a watery smile and surged forward to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Steve got the notification, he rushed down to the hangar to greet the team. He greeted everyone with a handshake, high-five, or, in Tony's case, a quick nod as they disembarked. Bucky walked down the ramp with his arm around you and your bags in his left hand. You had your arm slung around his waist to keep close to him. Every few steps, Bucky would pause briefly to kiss you, and you couldn't help but grace him with a beaming smile.

Bucky eventually met Steve where he was waiting for the two of you. Steve crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look stern, but it was difficult in front of you and his best friend. You could see the corners of Steve's mouth trying not to twitch upwards in a smile.

Steve broke the stalemate first. "Buck," he remarked.

Bucky set down your bags and crossed his arms to mirror Steve's stance. "Stevie," he replied.

Steve's eyes flicked over to you. "Captain Rogers," you murmured.

By now, Steve was really having a tough time keeping a straight face. "Sunshine," he responded. That was all it took for the three of you to break out into laughter and take turns hugging Steve. "You doing okay? Heard you got injured, kid," he inquired.

"I'm all right, Cap. Got patched up on the way home, and James hasn't let me out of his sight since he got onboard the jet," you answered, then slipped your arm back around Bucky's waist.

"No way, doll. Hey, Stevie, I've got some makin' up to do with my girl, so if you don't mind," Bucky hinted.

"Get outta here, you two," Steve chuckled. He gave Bucky one last "welcome home" hug and you walked with Bucky to your shared room.

Right when you entered the room, a ball of white fur nearly tackled you and started rubbing up against your legs. "Well hello, pretty girl! It's so good to see you, did you behave for Peter while I was gone?" All answers to your questions resulted in loud purring coming from said feline, who was indeed happy to see you.

"Um, doll? Not to ask a dumb question, but when did we get a cat?" Bucky asked.

You grinned and motioned for him to sit beside you on the bed. Once he was seated, you explained how you found Alpine in the bushes outside of the Tower. You could see she was hurt, so you brought her inside.

"She told me her name, and that's how I found out what my powers were. I can communicate with animals and other creatures, as well as heal them. When I found her, Alpine had hurt her right front paw in some sort of alleyway scuffle. I treated her injury, and she's been my comfort while you were gone," you relayed softly.

As if on cue, Alpine leaped up on the bed so she could evaluate the newcomer, Bucky. If he was going to steal you away from her, Alpine wanted to check him out for herself. She placed her two front paws on his thigh and nuzzled at his hands in his lap. Bucky turned his right hand so it was palm up, so Alpine took the opportunity to sniff his hand. She stretched towards Bucky, still sniffing the air, then showed her approval by rubbing her face on his stubbled cheek.

Bucky laughed softly and started running his hand over her thick, white fur. "I guess that means she likes me, huh?" he asked.

"Of course she does, James. Besides, what's not to like, hmm?" you countered, then leaned your head on his shoulder. "I love you, James," you remarked.

"I love you too, Doll," he replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Six months later

"Has anyone seen James?" you asked. You had looked everywhere for him--the conference rooms, the gym, and you even had someone check the men's locker room. Now you were in the kitchen, asking if anyone knew the location of your wayward boyfriend. Everyone glanced around, knowing exactly where he was, but not being able to tell you. Not yet, anyway.

"Ooh! Have you checked your room yet?" Peter interjected.

"Not yet, Peter. Thank you, I'll check there," you answered. You left the kitchen and when you entered your room, there was a large white box with a red ribbon around it. A card was on top of the box, tented so that it stood upright. On the card were the words: "Meet me at 7:00pm in our favorite place to escape from everybody."

You searched your mind to think of the place Bucky was referring to, but when it clicked, you couldn't help but smile. When you opened the box, there was another card on top of something wrapped in tissue paper. It said, "Wear Me."

After you unwrapped the item, you pulled out a blue chiffon V-neck swing dress. It had short sleeves and wavy sequined lines running throughout the fabric, down to the knee-length hem. When you walked over to the mirror and held the dress up to your body, you couldn't wait to see it on yourself for real.

A quick glance at the clock showed it was 6:15pm, and you realized there wasn't much time to get ready. No way did you want to be late to meet Bucky, so you carefully laid the dress over the box and hurried to the bathroom to shower.

Thirty minutes later, and you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup and hair, both of which you kept simple. Just as you were ready to put on the dress, you heard a knock at your door. It was Wanda, and she asked to help you with the zipper. You suspected she had some idea of what Bucky was up to, but she refused to divulge any information.

Another knock at your door revealed Steve, who stated it was his duty to escort you to meet Bucky. As with Wanda, you figured he was part of the overall plan, but probably wouldn't tell you anything either. So you slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, and headed for the elevators.

Once you reached the rooftop, you were amazed at the sight in front of you. Off to one side was a small table with two chairs, a bouquet of assorted flowers in the center of the table. Twinkling fairy lights were strung together to create a canopy above the table. An ice bucket on a stand was waiting next to the table, the neck of a bottle sticking out of the top.

It was almost perfect. Almost. The only missing piece was Bucky, and he was nowhere to be seen, at least not at first. You walked to the railing on the roof and stared out across the city. So many lights filled the sky and so many sounds filled the air that you missed hearing Bucky's footsteps behind you.

"Good evening, my love," his rich baritone voice rumbled. You whirled around and when you saw Bucky, your breath was nearly stolen out of your chest. He was wearing black dress pants and a black jacket, with a white button-down shirt underneath. No tie, because the top two buttons were not fastened, giving you a glimpse of his broad chest. He was lazily holding a long-stemmed red rose and showed a gentle smile on his face.

"Whoa," you whispered, your feet taking slow, measured steps towards Bucky. "I knew I was dating a super soldier. Didn't know you were also a supermodel. You look handsome, James," you breathed.

"Awww, sweetheart. Wait, do I?" he asked while you nodded and walked towards him. "That's nothing compared to you, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunning, my darling," Bucky affirmed.

"Thank you," you murmured as your eyes roamed the setting Bucky had created on the rooftop. "You really did a wonderful job decorating up here. But I don't think it's our anniversary, and I know it's not my birthday. Am I missing something, James?" you asked.

Bucky picked up your left hand and cradled it gently in his vibranium one, then dropped to one knee before you. "My sweet solnyshka," he rasped. He cleared his throat before trying again. "Ever since we met, I knew you were going to be an important part of my life. And I was right, because you are exactly what I need and definitely more than what I deserve.

"You are everything to me. You are my best friend, my lover, my sunshine in what was such a dark world for me. The only thing that's missing is this," Bucky paused a moment to dig into his pocket with his right hand to produce a small, black box.

With shaking fingers, Bucky opened the box in your direction. Nestled inside the velvet cushion was a ring with an oval-shaped diamond and sapphire accent stones. The white gold band had elegant scroll work engraved on the top half of the band. "Oh, James. It's beautiful," you remarked in a voice thick with emotion.

Bucky reached inside and plucked the ring from its box and held it out to you. "I know that I have a lot of history that comes with me, and I can't promise we will always be free of danger. But as long as we're together, we can get through anything. Will you marry me?" he asked.

By this time, tears are streaming down your face, but they are tears of joy. "Yes, James, I will absolutely marry you," you exclaimed as you flung your arms around his neck.

Bucky wound his arms around you, holding you to his chest as he stood. After a long passionate kiss that took your breath away, he set you on your feet. The ring was still in his right hand, his left one holding yours steady while he slid the ring on your finger. Bucky raised your left hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "I am so in love with you," he declared.

"I am so in love with you, too. Kinda great that it works out that way, huh? Because you're stuck with me for life," you chuckled lightly.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, my love," Bucky replied as he rested his forehead on yours. "I love you, future Mrs. Barnes."

"And I love you, Mr. Barnes," you responded.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A month later, Natasha and Wanda were in your room, helping you decide on bridesmaid dresses. You were laughing with the girls at some of the more ridiculous dress styles, assuring them that you would never make them wear something like that. Bucky and Steve were down in the lobby, holding a small press conference, when FRIDAY broke through on the intercom.

"Excuse me, miss, but there are two visitors waiting in the lobby at Security for you. They are quite insistent and are refusing to leave until they see you," the AI relayed.

You looked at Nat and Wanda in confusion, because you had no idea who would be visiting you at the Tower. "I'll be right back," you remarked absently. You got up from your bed and slipped on your shoes, with your friends hot on your heels.

"Who do you think it is?" Wanda asked.

"I have no idea, Wanda. My parents are gone, no siblings, and the only friends I have are all here, in the Tower. Guess I'll find out in a few minutes, though," you shrugged.

The elevator doors opened and the three of you exited towards the lobby. You were all laughing at something one of you said on the way down about ideas for a bachelorette party. After turning the corner, Nat assured you, "Don't worry, if it's trouble, we've got your back."

You caught a glimpse of flannel, bringing you to a complete stop in your tracks. "No....," you whispered. Wanda and Natasha looked at each other and shrugged, neither knowing what to make of your reaction. "Oh, it's trouble, Nat," you growled then resumed your path to Security. Your friends followed for your protection and out of sheer curiosity.

With arms folded across your chest and fire in your eyes, you addressed your visitors. "What the hell are you doing here, Winchester?!?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags:

@katelyn--renee, @evergreencowboy, @lassie-bird, @phoenixisred, @rslizj, @writercole, @vicmc624, @huffle-pissed

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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starspatter · 1 year

Text

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 22

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3,904 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Also on ff.net and AO3.

Feeling like a hero but I can't fly No, you'll never crash if you don't try Took it to the edge, now I know why Never gonna live if you're too scared to die

-Goo Goo Dolls, “So Alive”

————————–

After.

“I don’t like it.”

Tim leaned over to Dick and whispered in a light lilt:

“‘It’ doesn’t like being called an ‘it’.”

Standing before them in the center of the loft was a burly youth with jet-black hair and wary blue eyes; strong, square-set jaw tilted defiantly towards the two – plus another muscular man in a red cape towering over the entire trio. Dick and Tim shifted sight anxiously back and forth between the confronting opposites – or rather parallels, as the stranger bore a striking semblance to his elder, almost a miniature model (especially as both had their limbs crossed in identical positions). Superman stared suspiciously down at his mirror image, studying him hard as steel.

“You say you found him wandering the streets?”

He prompted, addressing Tim rather than the one before him.

“You make it sound like he’s some stray dog.” The subject narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. “There was a crash at an intersection; some clueless guy walked right into the direct middle of traffic, and I watched with my own eyes as a car ran straight into him. He was fine afterwards, but the vehicle was totaled. Not exactly something you see in Gotham everyday. So I checked to make sure the driver was okay, before getting this crazy kid the hell out of there before the police and media showed up and started swarming.”

“You made a good call. I’ll- contact the League, and we’ll take… ‘it’ from here.”

“Hold it,” the ticked-off teen spoke up at last. “Don’t I get a say in any of this? Who gave you the right to just go deciding things on your own? You’re not the boss of me.”

The Man of Steel made an expression like a wild animal had just suddenly started spouting fluent English phrases.

“You claim to be my clone, that we share the same DNA. That Cadmus created you – in order to take my place in the event of my demise… or to take me down, if necessary. That makes you my responsibility.”

The boy huffed, unimpressed.

“I don’t care about any of that. I just got sick of them trying to control me all the time. So I busted out. But, if you’re going to stand in my way,” he boldly balled his knuckles, “Then I will fight you.”

Superman glared coolly at the raised fist. So much anger – and danger – all in one unstable adolescent. …Frankly he recognized that look, as his gaze traveled subtly to Tim out of the corner of his periphery, before flicking back.

“That makes you a loose cannon, if not an outright threat. You really expect me to believe that you’re not here on some covert mission? That Cadmus hasn’t already filled your brain with an assassination objective, fully trained you on how to kill? This isn’t the first time they’ve employed this tactic.”

“Yeah yeah, I know all about Supergirl’s clone. My supposed ‘big sister’.” Resembling a rude child, he repeatedly mimed finger-quotes in the air. (It was a wonder where he picked that gesture up from.) “The failure. They said she was ‘defective’. That they learned from their mistakes, and made me to be ‘better’. ‘Perfect’.”

Superman mused if that was the reason he remained so… “juvenile” compared to Kara’s copy, who had been artificially aged to maturity, as well as peak physical strength. Perhaps, they thought that by keeping this one more mentally regressed, he’d be easier to rein in – “mold” to whatever warped purpose they had in mind.

“She was a soldier. A slave. Raised to obey and follow orders. There’s no proof you’re not carrying out the same directive right now.”

Despite his doubt, deep down Clark wanted to believe in the boy’s words. That their plan had indeed backfired, and all the hormonal rage and rebellion had culminated in preventing a pure, innocent soul from being corrupted, having luckily managed to escape before the indoctrination process could be completed.

Tim interjected at that juncture-

“Look, supposing he is telling the truth – what do you plan to do with him?”

Superman debated, honestly still somewhat unsure of his own intentions. His… “feelings” towards this “thing” in front of him. His foster cousin hadn’t considered her doppelganger a “real person” for even a second – which may have been her only way of coping with the concept that another version of her could ever exist to serve – be “evil”. He had been inclined to concur back then, but now that he was faced with his own reflection, it was ironically a different story. Additionally, he had witnessed firsthand a potential future where a dark side of his soul reigned supreme, what a superpowered person of his caliber was capable of if sent on the wrong path…

“We can take him to the Watchtower. He’ll be safe there.”

Tim snorted.

“Why? So you can keep him under constant lock and observation all the time? How is that any better than him being with Cadmus?” He scoffed on the other’s behalf. “Are you really going to deny him freedom as soon as he’s found it?”

There was a sensitive edge to Tim’s tone, and Dick picked up on it too as he cast an awkward sidelong glance towards his brother. He was clearly taking this personally, projecting his own past experience of being forced into secluded privacy (sadly sometimes even padded rooms and restraints) for nearly a year following his… “ordeal”. Being regarded – and thus subconsciously treated – almost as an “object” himself.

“What do you propose then?”

Tim shrugged.

“Why not just let him stay here?”

Each and every other person in the room stunned at the suggestion, including the one in question. Dick reached out and put a firm paw on his sibling’s shoulder.

“Tim, can I have a word with you for a moment?”

Superman insistently joined the timeout as the guardian duo drew Tim into a hushed huddle, hovering over him simultaneously in lecturing stances.

“Are you out of your friggin’ mind?”

Dick tested in utter disbelief, to which Tim merely rolled his eyes and retorted:

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“We don’t know anything about this dude, and you want to just let him move in with us? We have no idea what he’s capable of. He could murder us in our sleep – hell, at any time – with his bare hands.”

“And no one thought that about me after Arkham.”

“Tim…”

“You guys gave me a second chance.”

“You’re human.” Dick glimpsed apologetically towards the third party. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Dick shook his head, returning attention to Tim. “What makes you think he can even be trusted?”

Tim simply shrugged again.

“Dunno.” He gleamed mischievously. “Would you believe me if I told you a little ‘voice’ in my head says it’s okay?”

His senior sighed in exasperation at the mildly mocking smirk on his lips.

“Tim, now is not the time to be making jokes.”

Tim kept playing along though, putting his palms together in a pretend-pleading pose, puppy pupils shining as he begged.

“Oh please, can we keep him?”

Dick veered desperately to his partner, beseeching for assistance. “C’mon, Clark, back me up here.”

The other older male was oddly mute though, deliberating pensively before declaring at last:

“…I’ll allow it.”

Dick’s jaw dropped to the floor, floored by the unanticipated approval.

“You’re not serious?”

“Tim’s right, keeping him cooped up in space isn’t a sufficient solution. It might be better to have him experience Earth instead. Be around regular people, learn about our society through actual interaction.” His vision squarely met Tim’s. “…Let him lead a ‘normal’ life.”

Dick wasn’t convinced though.

“What if he is our enemy? He could turn out to be some kind of monster.”

Just then, the topic of their discussion elevated his volume:

“You guys do realize I can still hear you, right?”

The three revolved around as he pointed irately at his ears.

“I’ve got superhearing too, remember?”

He folded his arms in further frustration.

“If you don’t want me here, fine. Then I’ll leave. But I’m not going back to being constantly told what to do and where I can and can’t go.”

Superman stepped forward, solemn and severe.

“You can stay, on one condition. You are not to activate your abilities, under any circumstances. Not until you’ve proven yourself completely trustworthy, that you can integrate successfully with this planet and abide by its rules.”

The lad looked even more aggravated by the notion, bristling in irritation and insolence.

“What’s the point of having powers if I can’t even use them for anything?”

“It’s to teach you self-discipline. Listen to me: The people of this world are incredibly fragile, and if you’re not careful, you could easily end up hurting someone, even if you don’t mean to. And trust me, I will be keeping an ear out for anything suspect. If I hear one whiff of you causing harm to anyone, I will bring the entire Justice League down on you so fast you won’t know what hit you. We will hunt you down, no matter where you go.”

His replica gnashed his teeth. The G-Gnomes and scientists had instructed him on how to combat the League, made him go through each member’s file and drills multiple times until he memorized their weaknesses by heart. Still, the prospect of taking them all on at once wasn’t an idea he really relished the thought of, if he could avoid it. Grudgingly, he acquiesced.

“Fine. I accept your terms.”

“Goody,” Tim piped up as he sauntered forth to pat his new “playmate” on the back. “Welcome to the ‘Rejects Club’, pal. Hope you enjoy your stay. We’ve got a cripple, a crazy clown killer,” he indicated offhandedly towards a dumbfounded Dick and himself, “previously a crackhead junkie, and now a clone. We should call ourselves the ‘Three Caba-zeros’.”

The boy blinked blankly at him.

“…Man, maybe we need to work on your sense of humor.” Tim deflated in disappointment. “First things first though,” he scrutinized the bland white jumpsuit the other was wearing, tasteless and tattered so that a flap fell over his nigh-bare exposed chest (coincidentally concealing a scarlet symbol that matched his double). “We should get you some clothes. Mine probably won’t fit you, so you’ll have to borrow my bro’s for now. Is that okay?”

Dick lifted his hands in defeat as Tim twisted towards him – too late – to request for permission.

“I guess. Whatever, go knock yourselves out.” Under his breath, he muttered: “This is insane.”

“Thank you.”

Tim responded dully, and Dick couldn’t tell which statement it was in answer to.

As Tim led their guest away, the other visitor exhaled, appearing extremely exhausted. Dick couldn’t help but think that were he in civilian disguise right now, Clark Kent the Daily Planet reporter would be removing his glasses to rub his tired lids. He approached gingerly, trying to imagine what must be going through the man’s mind at the moment.

“You all right?”

“…I just came face to face with my genetic duplicate who was secretly born without my knowledge or consent. It’s bad enough the government exploited my kid cousin, now I’m the source of introducing a possible new peril to this planet.”

Dick clapped Clark on his broad back.

“We don’t know that he’s a risk yet.”

A wistful mist slipped onto the man’s visage as he reminisced.

“His eyes… They remind me of Kara’s. Proud. Arrogant. Stubborn.” He beamed faintly in mixed fondness at the memory. Dick looked on with sympathy.

“…You miss her, don’t you.”

Clark respired.

“I worry about her. I respect her decision to stay in the future, and I’m glad she found happiness there, a place where she belongs and can spread her own wings. …Still, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that she ended up with a descendant of Brainiac, of all beings in the universe. I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

Dick quietly contemplated the other’s sour countenance.

“You’re sure you’re not transferring some of that resentfulness onto the kid?”

Clark flinched, but made no effort to refute. Brainiac, Darkseid, Luthor – all had their periods of portraying themselves as harmless and peaceable – before stabbing him in the back yet again. As much as he strove to give the benefit of the doubt to strangers and established comrades, when it came to personal grudges against archvillains he wasn’t about to allow himself to fall victim to another ruse – even if he wasn’t quite certain where on the spectrum the current concern lay.

“That’s why I’m entrusting this task to you. I’m counting on you to watch over him. If anything happens, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

“…You’re asking an awful lot of someone who can’t even see completely right anymore, let alone throw a proper punch or kick,” Dick mumbled in partial jest.

It was Clark’s turn to bolster the other’s backside.

“I have faith in you. You see the good in others, and that’s what matters. If anyone can keep him on the right track, you can.”

Dick’s own one worn eye swiveled aside.

“I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

He murmured in a morose manner, as Clark thumped supportively a second time.

“If there’s one thing we can’t lose, it’s hope. If we do, then we’ve really, truly lost. It means that they beat us. That they won.”

Dick looked up at the smiling superhero – a man he himself looked up to once, idolized as much as another brave icon…

“I’ll ask Bruce to send over some Kryptonite anyway, just in case,” Clark continued, treading carefully with his words; figuring that if the kid did indeed have Kryptonian blood in him, logically he should be susceptible to its effects too. “I’m sure he’s got tons of the stuff stashed somewhere.”

Dick cleared his throat.

“Have you… heard from him at all recently?”

“No,” Clark confessed. “I was hoping you had.”

“We don’t… talk anymore. Not really.”

“I see.”

There was an uncomfortable beat, before Dick carried on with another curious inquiry.

“What about… Diana? How’s she doing? I… know she and Bruce were… close.”

Though they had never officially met, he had wondered, idly, how she felt on the whole affair with Barbara – Batgirl. As far as he knew, Bruce – Batman – had never actively pursued a relationship with Wonder Woman, despite obvious mutual infatuation and daytime persona’s playboy tendencies.

“Diana’s doing fine. She’s strong.” Clark softened in appreciation and understanding. “…So are the two of you.”

He reinforced the other’s shoulder once more, before releasing and beginning to head for the exit.

“Both of you, look after each other. Families are tough to keep together, I know. But, that’s why you need to treasure the time you have. Before you know it, you can lose someone entirely from your life, and then that’s it. Don’t ever take those precious moments you shared for granted. And…” He hesitated on the handle, acknowledging his own hypocrisy. “Look out for the kid for me too, will you?”

Dick nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep a close ‘eye’ on him.”

Clark’s facial features twitched marginally at the poor attempt at a pun.

“Thanks. Oh, and you don’t need to worry about tracking devices either by the way. I checked, the kid’s clean.”

“How’d you-” Dick cut himself off, slapping his forehead with a grin. “Oh, right. Duh. X-ray vision.”

Superman winked at him, before opening the door and speeding off into the sky, towards the hill where Wayne Manor overlooked the city. Dick watched him go, vanishing into a speck, before slowly shutting the egress behind him. Hobbling upstairs after the previous pair, he made a beeline for the fridge and grabbed a beer, flopping down on the sofa as he endeavored hard not to think about the fact there was a half-naked superhuman clone currently raiding through his wardrobe. Scanning absently around at the several “Flying Graysons” posters lining the walls surrounding him, he pondered just when had his own place – personal space – suddenly become so crowded again. Somehow, it seemed his “private bachelor pad” had been converted to a “wayward home for lost boys” without him noticing.

…But then, he thought as he popped the top and took a swig, Bruce had done pretty much the exact same thing, hadn’t he.

…

“So… You two were ‘superheroes’ once too.”

“Yup.”

“And… You don’t have any special powers.”

“Nope.”

“How’d you guys do it?”

Tim shrugged.

“A lot of training, a lot of skill, a lot of sleepless nights – and some luck. …Although that ran out eventually, as you can see.”

The other teenager nervously massaged the back of his neck.

“I guess humans really are fragile.”

“Inside and out.”

Tim impassively agreed.

“So, uh… Do you really hear like, ‘voices’ and stuff?”

The query ventured cautiously.

“Voices, hallucinations, homicidal urges – the works.”

His company’s irises widened in alarm.

“…I was kidding. About that last part anyway.” (…For the most part.)

“Oh.”

Tim shook his head. It seemed “sarcasm” was something else he’d have to teach this kid.

“Still want to crash with us?”

The “alien” looked uneasily down at his toes.

“I dunno… It doesn’t seem as if your brother really cares for me all that much…”

“Don’t sweat it. He’ll come around.”

“Why’d you stick up for me anyway? We hardly even know each other.”

Tim shrugged his shoulders again.

“I know what it’s like to be labeled a ‘freak’. To be tossed aside and treated like you don’t – shouldn’t – exist.”

The other boy’s knuckles clenched.

“I bet ‘that guy’ just wanted me out of the way so he doesn’t have to deal with me. So he can hog all the glory to himself.”

“Maybe. …Although in his own way, he’s probably trying to protect you too.”

Tim seemed to be talking – rationalizing – more to himself than his newly acquired acquaintance at this point, leaving the latter confused. Snapping up from his stupor, he quickly pushed the conversation aside.

“Anyway, more importantly, go pick something out to change into. Anything will do for now, I can take you shopping for stuff in your size later.”

His companion complied, digging deep through the closet’s contents, which mostly consisted of cool leather jackets and jeans. (…No more ugly sweater vests, Tim noted nonchalantly.) At length he pulled out a black T-shirt from the far back, rotating it around to reveal a plastisol ruby logo echoing his own emblem. …Seems Dick hadn’t thrown out everything from his adulating adolescence after all.

“This. …I’ll take this.”

“…A bit on the nose with the irony, isn’t it?”

There was no reply as the plunderer stripped then and there, showing zero signs of modesty as he stretched the prize snugly over his (admittedly impressive) abs. Tim felt his face growing hot for some reason as he averted and coughed.

“Well, what do you know, it fits. …Now don’t forget to put on some pants.”

He hastily tossed a pair of trousers towards the half-dressed hunk, smacking him on the snout as forecasted. The target detached the denim wrapping and dutifully donned it as well.

“You’re gonna need a name too. Unless you actually want us to keep calling you ‘it’.” A pause, as he wondered whether whoever brought the puppet to life actually bothered to give their creation a designation. “…What did Cadmus call you?”

A shrug.

“They mostly just referred to me as ‘Experiment 13’ or ‘Project Kr’ or simply ‘the weapon’.” (Again with the finger-quotes.) “Although, after I broke out of the pod, I found a ‘top-secret’ document that stated my actual ‘codename’ was ‘Kon-El’. …Before I tore it and the place apart anyway.”

Been there, done that, Tim thought to himself as he rolled the title on the tip of his tongue.

“Kon-El, Kon… Sounds foreign, it would definitely stand out way too much.” (As if he didn’t already.) “…How about ‘Conner’ instead?”

The boy tilted his head as he mulled over the moniker for a minute, before nodding in approval.

“As for a last name…” An almost wicked spark flashed. “So long as we’re being daring and tempting fate, what do you think about ‘Kent’? That’s Superman’s citizen surname.”

Conner debated for an interval again, then signaled another affirmation.

“‘Conner Kent’ it is then.”

Tim thus dubbed his new bud. Sobriquet settled, he held out his hand and introduced:

“My name’s ‘Tim’ by the way. …Although the voice in my head likes to call me ‘JJ’.”

He added with a casual hint of a grin, taking a mordant stab at his “witty sarcasm” again. (Besides, a semi-sadistic streak in him still enjoyed watching others squirm whenever he willingly brought up his apparent lack of “sanity”.) Conner seemed sincere though as he looked Tim dead in the eye – undeterred – and mimicked the motion, greeting with a mighty grip. Seems he was at least aware of what a “handshake” entailed at least.

“…You know, when I was inside the tube – before they put me in a pod – I used to hear a ‘voice’ too.”

“You mean those ‘G-Gnome’ things you mentioned?”

Conner shook his head.

“No, it was weird. Different. Definitely human.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t one of the scientists?”

“It was more like a… girl’s voice.” He frowned, struggling to sort out a jumbled fog of hazy memories from the first few weeks of being “formed”. “She kept… crying out and asking for someone to be her ‘friend’. For someone to come ‘save’ her. …She sounded really scared.”

Tim stared at him, unsure what to say.

“Maybe we’re both actually crazy.”

“Heh. Maybe.”

It was Conner’s turn to look brooding though as he ruminated. Tentatively, Tim tried to distract by taking their new tenant on a tour, grasping him by the hand again.

“Come on. Let me show you around.”

After Conner had familiarized himself with most of the facility’s amenities, his host deemed it time to get back to unfinished business.

“We still need to create an ‘official’ public identity for you. Don’t worry, it’ll be easy.” Tim snapped his tips. “I can make it so Cadmus won’t be able to trace your location status at all. …I’ll need some better equipment than just my laptop though.”

He pressed his palm to a secret security panel (having overridden access yet again without his brother’s knowledge), and a section of the partition slid open to reveal a hidden doorway. Entering into the restricted alcove, Tim took a seat at the desk where a giant triple-monitor display was assembled, inertly collecting a thin layer of dust. Conner tiptoed in after, and wordlessly analyzed the enormous circus scroll behind them (the likes of which he had encountered – counted – an extraordinary quantity of various other advertising prints stationed all around the building) as Tim booted up the system. Conner turned at the sound of ferocious keyboard typing as Tim brought up a cascade of windows on separate computer screens all at once, digits switching nimbly between numerous tabs and increasing digital lines of text like lightning, as the stupefied spectator marveled at his capacity to keep track of them all.

“What… is all this?”

A slightly smug smirk tugged at the verge of Tim’s mouth.

“This, my friend, is how we do – did things in Gotham. Now then…” He flexed his fingers dramatically. “Watch me work some magic.”

————————–

I am no man of steel I have no heart of stone Don't tell me how it feels I'll find it on my own

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Conner Kent #Clark Kent #Dick Grayson #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #ftr I dropped watching Young Justice after what they did to Cassandra Cain's (and by extension Barbara's) character in S4 #but Conner will always be my ragey bby #<3 #anyway I lied this is totally a harem story #*flees*

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yabai-korra · 3 years

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Rhysand's "problematic" behavior towards Feyre in ACOTAR

I have just finished reading A Court of Thorns and Roses. I have been in book fandom for a while so I've heard criticism towards this particular relationship and author, so here I am debunking/explaining why that criticism isn't justified. Not saying you can't dislike the book obviously, but a lot of bad things said about this came from a place of ignorance and not reading in between the lines nor with full attention.

Now, if you're a passionate anti with no chance for changing your opinion, please do turn around and look at posts about something you enjoy :) Let's all stay in line and be civil, I am merely going to explain something a lot of people seemed to have missed in this book.

Words in blue are quotes.

First of all, lemme say that I totally understand why someone would think this book is "problematic", it seemed that way to me as well at first but when you read carefully and in between the lines it's not problematic, dark yes, hence why it's new adult and not young adult, but not problematic.

Rhys definitely does bad things to Feyre and comes off as an asshole at first, which is why I hated him, but if you approach it more carefully you'll see that there is a lot more beneath the surface.

Feyre has two moods while Under the Mountain - depressed and angry at Rhys. Rhys, as he states himself, is on Feyre's side, because he, much like everyone, hates Amarantha and wants Feyre to succeed in freeing them.

Something I haven't noticed immediately is how Feyre is sinking deeper and deeper into depression and some dark corner of her mind, and every time she bounces back is with Rhysand. He makes her angry, because that is the only emotion he is capable to provoke in her and the only one that would keep her from falling apart. Being lovey-dovey or friendly or sad, as we have seen Tam and Lucian were with her, didn't help, it just made her more depressed.

By keeping her angry he is keeping her alive: "It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely."

To be fair I gotta add that it wasn't his only way of keeping her alive; he healed her arm, did one of the tasks for her to keep her from being roasted, and led her to the correct answer on her second trial.

Also, something really important, he forcefully kissed her. When I read that I was furious and wanted to kick him honestly and I am not excusing him whatsoever, and imo he could have been a little more gentle, but he did that in order for Amarantha to believe it was him who kissed her, not Tamlin who was kissing her before. If Amarantha saw Feyre and Tamlin together, which is something Rhys interrupted, she would have gone wild because she is obsessed with Tamlin. Not only did Rhys save both of them (and Lucien, for that matter, because Amarantha kept pushing him in Tamlin's place) through his shady method I in no way approve of, immediately after his mood shifts. He knows Amarantha for 50 years, and he knew he'd take the punishment for kissing Feyre, which was, sadly the thing Amarantha is doing to him all the time, r*pe, which was obviously worse than usual because he was in a very mental state afterward: His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from me and slid to the floor. “What do you want?” I demanded. “A moment of peace and quiet,” he snapped, rubbing his temples. I paused. “From what?” He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. “From this mess.” I sat up farther on my pallet of hay. I’d never seen him so candid. “That damned bitch is running me ragged,” he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. “You hate me. Imagine how you’d feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I’m High Lord of the Night Court—not her harlot.”

Again, I am not excusing his actions because it was not okay, but he took r*pe as a punishment for the forcful kiss so Feyre and Tamlin wouldn't get something worse, which was probably death. He, once again, did a bad thing to prevent a horrible thing, but this time suffered himself as well. I personally, as a reader, can get over that, if you can't that's totally fine.

"If he hadn’t been kissing me, if he hadn’t shown up and interrupted us, I would have gone out into that throne room covered in smudged paint. And everyone—especially Amarantha—would have known what I’d been up to. It wouldn’t have taken much to figure out whom I’d been with, especially not once they saw the paint on Tamlin. I didn’t want to consider what the punishment might have been."

Feyre herself at one point starts looking forward to seeing Rhys and going to the parties with him and drinking glamoured wine, because it is the only rest her tortured mind can get: "A permanent darkness settled over me, and I began to look forward to the moment when Rhysand gave me that goblet of faerie wine and I could lose myself for a few hours. I stopped contemplating Amarantha’s riddle—it was impossible. Especially for an illiterate, ignorant human. Thinking of Tamlin made everything worse."

All he is doing, whether good or bad, is to help her succeed. I am not saying his actions are to be excused, but they are definitely reasoned. He isn't an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. His way of helping Feyre was a messed up one, but it was the only way. He was doing bad things (while also keeping certain boundaries) to prevent a horrible thing, which would be Feyre mentally shattering.

Feyre herself is in a similar situation at the end of the book, the only way to free everyone from Amarantha was to finish the final trial, which was to kill three (actually two) faeries. Murder is obviously wrong and something that can't be excused (except for Amarantha she deserved it), but taking two lives to save thousands was the only reasonable thing to do, and that's why Feyre did it even though she was disgusted by the deed. The same thing happened with Rhys, it just wasn't as clear and simple.

"Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain."

It is definitely DARK, and definitely not something that could be applied to a real-life situation.

I hope it helped clear that up, I'm not saying you should like Rhys or the series, I personally do enjoy a more dark and complicated story and characters, I hope if you're not a fan that you have plenty of other books to enjoy :)

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #rhys #feyre archeron #pro rhysand #pro feyre #pro feysand #tamlin #lucien #amarantha #sjm #sarah j maas #pro sjm

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baku-bowl · 3 years

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broke 1,000 followers (the fuck? I don't even make content people), so decided to write up a list of some (but not all, I'll make other lists later) of my favorite Bakugou-centric fic recs. my tastes run towards hurt/comfort, as you'll probably figure from the list. if there are some Baku-centric fics that you've enjoyed that aren't on here, please add them - this is definitely not a complete list of the ones I've read and love, but I'm always up for some recs. <3

fair warning, most of these are wips.

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Social Media 101 by WindsChild8178

Part 1: Survival Guide to Fucking Up

[Solely Bakugou’s point of view]

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body. He’s aggressive in everything he does and does everything with 100% of his heart in it. After the Sport’s Festival, Katsuki starts to get harassed by strangers for his unheroic demeanor. It starts with letters but it doesn’t end there. The moment Katsuki realizes the harassment has entered dangerous territory and he needs to tell someone, it’s already too late.

Part 2: Post Traumatic Life Disorder

[Point of View opens up to Bakugou, teachers and classmates]

When the Dorms are finally built, everyone is settling in well, but things become tense as people begin to realize something isn’t right with the recently rescued Bakugou.

[Cannon compliant right up to after the License Exam]

hands down my favorite fic in the fandom right now. it’s the one that converted me into a Bakugou lover. if you have any fondness for Bakugou as a character then it’s likely you’ve read this one already, but if not, I can’t recommend it enough. incredibly depressing, but with the hope that comfort is coming soon in the next few chapters.

The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually by NotWithThatAttitude

Bakugou is spiraling in the aftermath of Kamino and his friends are starting to notice. He's stubborn, aggressively independent, and less than willing to dig into his past, but after a breakdown that ends with a painful secret revealed, he starts to get help.

Whether he likes it or not.

Meanwhile, a new kind of villain threatens an uneasy peace following the loss of Allmight. Whispers build as a new narrative slowly takes shape:

Hero society needs to change.

Feat. Therapy, Dadzawa, best boy Kirishima, dysfunctional families, healing, growing up, and the mortifying ordeal of being known

guys.. the medical accuracy of this fic is just... *chef’s kiss*

I rarely see mental health genuinely handled well in fics, but this one goes above and beyond. kudos to the author for doing such excellent research into psychology, and making the application of it in here not-boring. also, while this one does have abusive!Mitsuki, it’s done in a way that feels realistic, and how I usually will see it occur in real life, rather than just for the hurt/comfort feels.

fair warning, the fic can be incredibly triggering (themes of severe depression, PTSD, panic attacks, rape survival, abuse survival, suicidal ideation/attempted suicide, among other things), so be safe and heed the tw’s if you decide to read. legitimately one of my Top Favorite fics in this fandom.

Lock and Key by autochorystalize

Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot.

- - -

A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity.

It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega.

- - - - - - - - -

Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

remember when I said that I love a/b/o fics that are full of plot and world-building and gender-induced tension? that’s this one. the OC’s are fabulous and you love to hate ‘em. also, it’s the fic that made me fall head-over-heels for the TodoBaku dynamic, so it’s got a special place in my cold, dead heart.

be warned, there are rather explicit non-con scenes between an adult (OC) and a minor (Bakugou) in this one, but the author warns for them in advance, and you could likely skip those parts without missing too much if you need to.

Never and Always, Eventually by Wawa_Boonliang

"Katsuki can remember the exact moment that he and Deku…that he and Midoriya Izuku became friends. He can also remember the moment he and Izuku became fierce rivals, a time when they were almost enemies.

However, what he remembers most clearly about their relationship is the moment that they moved passed rivals and became something more close than mere friends. Something more like brotherhood, something forged in fire and secured in the middle of a battlefield or in the midst of natural disaster where the number of the dead was climbing ever higher. And then it was torn from him."

Katsuki is given a second chance. A chance to save everyone. A chance to change everything.

But should he?

y’all. I’m a slutty, slutty whore for time travel fics. a time travel fic with autistic!coded Bakugou? it was love at first read.

Lessons Learned by Sif (Rosae)

Rather than the police station, Katsuki's friends bring him to a hospital after rescuing him from the villains. His wounds were minor, but it didn't make having them treated any less important. As it would so happen, Best Jeanist was also brought to this hospital after the attack.

Sometimes, small choices have a big impact on how a story plays out.

classic Bakugou hurt/comfort. this fic opened me up to the potential that could be a genuinely good Best Jeanist & Katsuki mentor-mentee relationship, and I kind of dig it and search ravenously for it in other fics now. I’m also a huge fan of the behind-the-scences Pro Hero Chat group.

Slope by sunfleurmoon

“I’m not a hero. Or a good person,” Katsuki says, giving Aizawa a pointed look, “So leave me alone. I don’t care about the League or UA, or you—” The two years he’s been away have been fine, more than fine, fucking fantastic actually if you ignore the bi-monthly near-death experiences. He doesn’t need this place. He doesn’t miss this place.

And yet, longing, a childish desire to tear up, or maybe blow something to bits, they all twist in his chest like a band of traitors regardless. “—I just want to go home.”

Or: the one where Katsuki and Izuku fail the first term exam, Aizawa discovers their pasts, and Katsuki is booted from UA. Featuring questionable descriptions of villain organizations, a slightly illegal moving shop, and your favorite emotionally constipated badass in distress with a newly discovered penchant for collecting strays.

paaaaaaiiiiiiiin. the hurt is ALIVE in this one. lots of tortured, angsty exploding child goodness. the OC’s are excellently crafted, and the Bakugou & Eri relationship? beautiful. definitely deserves a read.

Ground Zero by WindsChild8178

In the wake of Kamino, Katsuki is tested more than anyone could imagine. Bound by a villain’s quirk to keep his silence or die, he lives each day knowing it might very well be his last. He continues to work towards becoming a hero, keeping his secret from his classmates and teachers, focusing on making it through each day and trying not to allow the panic or depression to get the best of him. When the villain finally corners him with demands in exchange for his life, there is really only one answer Katsuki Bakugou can give.

honestly don't know which I want updated more - social media 101 or ground zero. this author's fics are amazing, and I really wasn't expecting the twist in this one. can't wait for windschild to come back to this fic some day.

The Defect by LadyGreenFrisbee

"Why do you want to win the Sports Festival so badly?"

Because I want to see if the defect could usurp the masterpiece.

(In which Endeavor holds a terrible secret and Bakugo has to suffer since childhood for it.)

a great concept, and I adore the shouto and Katsuki sibling interaction here. hoping the author will come back to this one some day.

A Name That You'll Remember by Heronfem

Kirishima Eijirou is a Hero. Bakugou Katsuki... is not. Trapped in his toxic workplace and increasingly desperate to get out, Red Riot's days are only brightened by a new villain known as Caution, who's not exactly villainous and keeps accidentally doing good deeds. But when a real villain appears, a threat from the past that demands that Red Riot make the ultimate sacrifice to keep the public safe, Bakugou is forced into saving the day... and eventually, Red Riot himself.

sob story good guy villains are my weakness, this fic is a gem, and I'd kill for the sequel.

Our Hero by AnonymousTwit

He felt everything jerk to the side and throw his balance off before he saw anything, dust clouding his vision and irritating his lungs as the earth itself opened up to swallow them whole. For a single moment, in a millisecond's time, his wild eyes locked with Raccoon Eyes', hers alight with fear and adrenaline-fueled desperation. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that it was the first time she'd looked at him with something other than long-deserved hatred in days.

And then he was free falling.

After a particularly nasty encounter between childhood friends, the class learns about Bakugou and Midoriya's dark history and practically ostracizes Bakugou while trying to defend Midoriya. An earthquake during an outing has all sides regretting their decisions.

just fucking tear apart my self-sacrificing faves in every way imaginable while their loved ones watch on in terror. 💖🥰💖 this one is heavy on the Bakusquad and Class-1A feels, and VERY heavy on the Mina & Bakugou relationship (platonic).

Running back the tape, watching it replay by Faralyne

For someone ripped from their time, ripped from the few but strong relationships built by time and personal development, by self-reflection and swallowed pride, ripped from the one thing that made him feel worthwhile and needed and put-together, and forced to forge everything over again—Katsuki thinks he is handling it pretty fucking well.

A villain’s quirk sends a 29-year-old Bakugou back in time to his middle school days.

am I a sucker for time travel? yes. am I a sucker for vigilante!bakugou? also yes. am I a sucker for this fic? literally refreshing the page in wait for an update as we speak.

Liability by sandelf

After All-Might dies rescuing Bakugou from the League, Bakugou is determined to prove it wasn't for nothing.

But the world is against him, his grief is overwhelming, and his stability is splitting at the edges.

very self-indulgent bakugou angst. tw for harassment, severe depression, and suicidality.

Special Mentions:

How To Win The Sport Festival: A Step By Step Guide by mhwright

Short re-imagining of the Sports Festival Arc if Shinso had planned a little better and worked a little harder to win the Sports Festival and if the match-ups had been slightly different. Self-indulgent fic of watching him succeed.

this is completely Shinsou-centric, not Bakugou-centric, but I love and adore it and am dying for a sequel. Shinsou is Best Boy here and you'll be rooting for him the whole time.

#fic rec #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #seriously though if you have a rec for me please always assume i will be unbearably grateful for it #and hit me up with it in the comments or through messaging #thanks for the follows y'all!

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.

Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.

so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one

oh, back to this stuff again. sob

I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol

omg

what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them

so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else

wtf is happening here

what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.

OH MY FUCKING GOD

SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM

tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao

OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!

OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM

THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!

WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH

lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him

he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere

you see?? you were too slow!!

NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic

anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this

oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here

seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me

OH MY GOD

HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD

“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well

OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH

-- no fucking way

WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW

wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward

ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit

the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that

(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)

also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst

OH SHIT

STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING

LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF

sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI

also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence

lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms

wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol

so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute

I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL

okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead

!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY

NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE

ohhhhhhh man

okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen

though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST

AHHHHHHH

KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM

holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk

SDKFJLSKHLKJL

the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers

OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE

love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere

I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY

lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO

oh man lol he is seriously falling apart

damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys

GASP

oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???

LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”

LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION

oh my god look at this lady folks

NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM

(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)

THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE

oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week

anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it

#bnha 300 #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki shouto #todoroki rei #all them todorokis #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I can't believe I've done 300 of these now lol #think I'm gonna finally have to update the post index again

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years

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Heart of a Hero

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Tommy Vega, Nancy Gillian, Andrea Reyes, Gabriel Reyes

Rating: T

Warnings: Mass shooting incident

Notes: A million thanks as always to @bluenet13 who beta read the heck out of this and listens to all my writing woes.

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo prompt “Ambulance Ride.”

Read on Ao3

It was his day off. It was his goddamn day off. But apparently crime didn’t take days off or respect the fact that he was just trying to run errands like a normal human being. Something that should have been a safe activity for everyone. Not a terrifying, violent event.

Carlos had been in the vegetable aisle when he’d heard the distinctive popping of gunfire. He’d dropped the mango in his hands, instinctively reaching for his duty weapon, despite the fact that he didn’t carry it on his days off. It had taken him only seconds to assess the situation, to realize the shots were coming from outside the store rather than inside, and to start running toward them. “Get to the back of the store!” he yelled to panicked customers and staff as he moved past them toward the doors. “Find somewhere to lock yourselves in and call 911!”

He stopped momentarily to help up a woman who had fallen to the ground, pushing her in the direction everyone else was fleeing as another round of shots sounded and the glass windows at the front of the shop shattered, causing everyone nearby to scream in terror.

Carlos paused at the front doors, trying to assess where the shots were coming from before exiting to the sidewalk outside. He could see people running, what looked like a body on the ground, but no sign of the shooter. Or shooters. There had been an awful lot of gunfire for it to be only one person.

There was a flash and more popping and Carlos caught a glimpse of someone in a black or dark blue hoodie running toward the building before ducking behind a mailbox for cover.

Running out into an active shooter situation unarmed seemed incredibly stupid, but there were still a lot of bystanders around and Carlos needed to do what he could to stop further casualties.

He crouched low, pulling the door open just enough to let himself out and moved quickly toward the fallen person on the sidewalk. The man let out a groan as Carlos got close and he felt a brief wave of relief that the man was alive. “Help me,” he said, breathing hard, eyes wild with fright.

“I’ve got you,” Carlos said, looking up and around for either shooter, but they seemed to have disappeared for the moment. “What’s your name?”

“Danny,” the man said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Danny where are you hurt?”

“My leg,” he said, in obvious pain. “I was running and I tripped. I think I broke my ankle.”

Another wave of relief. Broken ankles were an easy fix compared to gunshot wounds. “We need to get you somewhere safe,” Carlos said. “I want you to put your arm around my shoulders, I’m going to help you get behind that table over there. It’s probably going to hurt, but I need you to stay as quiet as you can, all right?”

The man nodded and Carlos wasted no time in putting an arm under his shoulder and moving immediately toward the table a few feet away just as the assailant reappeared, apparently having reloaded a fresh round of ammunition.

Carlos dragged Danny the last few feet, hunching over as more glass shattered nearby. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Danny gasped.

“Stay down!” Carlos ordered, putting as much of his body over him as he could.

And that was when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The door to the grocery store opened and another man stepped out, looking up and down the street.

“No! Get back inside!” Carlos yelled.

He was on his feet and moving before he even thought, gunfire ringing in his ears as he tackled the man to the ground, both of them grunting in pain as they hit the concrete.

There was a squeal of tires and Carlos looked up to see the man in the dark sweatshirt jump into the back of a jeep, slamming the door shut as the driver hit the gas.

He was just able to make out the first three digits of the license plate before it turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

“Are you all right?” he asked the man underneath him, still breathing hard.

The man let out a moan. “He shot me.”

Sure enough there was blood seeping from a wound on the man’s arm. “Okay, deep breaths,” Carlos said, sitting up and reaching for his phone with one hand while the other clamped down firmly on the man’s arm, ignoring the pained swear words coming from his mouth.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“This is Officer Carlos Reyes, badge number 1-3-0-8. I am at the Machado Family Market on Ninth Street and we have a mass shooting situation. The suspect fled in a white jump, first three license plate digits 6-3-1. I have two known victims both male. Victim one is in his early thirties and appears to be suffering from a broken ankle. Victim two has been shot in the arm. Requesting immediate police and medical assistance,” Carlos barked as he grabbed a wad of napkins from a nearby table and pressed them against the man’s arm.

“Officer Reyes I am dispatching all available police units in your area and rolling medical,” the dispatcher told him calmly. “Do you need me to walk you through what to do with a bullet wound?”

“No I’ve got it,” Carlos said as he tried to stop the bleeding. He looked down at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Ian,” the man said with a grimace. “How bad is it?”

“Just stay still and keep taking deep breaths,” Carlos said. “We have ambulances on the way and they’re going to take good care of you.”

It didn’t look that bad to him, the bleeding seemed to be slowing, but he wasn’t a medical professional and he wasn’t going to make any promises. “How you doing over there, Danny?” he called over his shoulder to the first man.

“I’m all right,” he called back.

“Just try and be still okay? The less you move the less damage you’ll do,” Carlos called back.

It felt like an eternity before sirens split the air around them. People had started emerging from the store. A woman who said she was a nurse had gone to take a look at Danny’s ankle while others sort of walked slowly through the debris in a state of shock.

“Reyes?”

Carlos looked up to find a colleague, Matthew Cruz looking down at him. “You just have to be in the middle of the action at all times huh?” he asked.

“Something like that,” Carlos said, managing a half smile.

“You need help?”

“I think I’ve got him for now. If you can just send medical over as soon as possible that would be great.”

“On it,” Cruz said, keying his radio as he and the rest of the officers worked to clear the scene so medical could come in. “Any idea what happened?”

“It was one person,” Carlos said. “Dark hoodie, medium build. I got a partial plate when they fled the scene.”

“Yeah they picked up the Jeep’s tail a minute ago. Nice work.”

Carlos nodded.

Within minutes the scene was cleared and medical swarmed the area. A paramedic that Carlos didn’t know ran over and knelt beside him. “Need some help over here?” he asked.

“This is Ian,” Carlos told him. “Single gunshot wound to the arm. Bleeding was under control until a minute ago but I think the bullet might have moved and hit an artery.”

Blood had begun gushing through his fingers in the last few seconds and Carlos felt panicky at his inability to do more.

“Okay I’m going to put my hands over yours and you are going to slide out, got it?” the medic asked.

Carlos gave an affirmative and they switched places as another medic came over and joined them. “You take care Ian,” Carlos said.

“Thank you,” Ian told him, his face pale and sweaty.

Carlos got to his feet, surprised at how shaky and nauseated he felt. This type of scene wasn’t new for him, but he’d never been out of uniform during a crisis of this kind before and it was getting to him more than he would have expected.

“Carlos?” He heard T.K.’s horrified voice before he saw him and his heart sank. His boyfriend was going to be beyond upset.

“Oh my god! Are you all right?” T.K. moved toward him eyes wide, a bag slung over his shoulder with Nancy right behind him, looking equally concerned.

“I’m fine,” Carlos assured them. “A little shaken up, but fine.”

“There’s blood all over your hands,” Nancy said.

Carlos shook his head. “It’s not mine. There was a man who was shot, somebody from the 130 has him.”

“Hey! We need some help over here!” An officer beckoned the medics toward a woman who was bleeding from the head.

T.K. looked back at Carlos who waved him off. “Go help everyone else. I’m all right, I promise.”

They didn’t look convinced. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” T.K. asked.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Carlos assured him as they moved to help the woman in need.

He was vaguely aware of T.K. calling out vitals, Nancy rushing past him to grab something else off the ambulance as he wiped his arm across the back of his forehead, sweaty despite the fact that he was beginning to feel cold. The adrenaline that had fueled his heroics was wearing off fast and he knew he should probably sit down before his knees gave out, but he couldn’t quite figure out where to go.

Another team had already packed up the man with the broken ankle and Carlos gave him a nod as he rolled by. He could sense T.K.’s eyes darting back and forth from him to his patient, but he ignored his boyfriend. He was fine and T.K. needed to focus on his job.

He sucked in a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, swallowing hard as the nausea in his stomach swelled.

“Carlos, are you okay?”

He had spotted Tommy speaking to the incident commander a moment ago, but apparently she’d finished and was now standing in front of him with a worried look on her face. “Did someone examine you?”

Carlos shook his head. “No, I’m fine. What’s the situation? How many casualties?”

“Several injuries, mostly minor from broken glass or trip and falls. One gunshot victim so far.” She looked him up and down and he could see that she wasn’t going to let him go. “You look like you’ve been through it; why don’t you let me check you out?”

“I should go see if I can help—“

“Carlos, you are not on duty right now,” Tommy said, guiding him to a nearby chair, her fingers settling on his wrist to take his pulse. “Do you have any pain?”

“Not really,” Carlos said, feeling extremely tired now that he was finally sitting. “I’m kind of nauseous. Shaky.”

Tommy hummed in sympathy. “That could be the adrenaline. All this blood is another victim’s?” she asked, looking at his hands.

“I think the bullet may have found an artery,” he said, by way of explanation. “I was on him pretty fast but I don’t know if it was enough.”

Her hands ran up and down his arms as he spoke, searching for injuries. “You did everything you could,” she said.

Her hands moved across his chest, down his torso and then she stilled. “Nancy?” she called without taking her eyes off of Carlos.

Nancy looked up from where she was bandaging a cut on a woman’s forearm. “Yeah Cap?”

“Can you go get me a fresh kit and some oxygen from the rig?” Tommy’s voice was calm. Too calm. Carlos felt his heart begin to beat faster.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Carlos I want you to listen to me and stay calm,” Tommy said, her voice smooth and gentle. “You’ve been shot.”

Panic jolted through him. “What? No I—I’m fine.”

“We’re going to get you on the ground all right? Easy does it.” She put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his left side, sliding him easily off the chair and onto the sidewalk even as his confused brain tried to catch up. He couldn’t be shot. He would have felt it. He would know if he’d been shot.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said, noticing now that his voice was shaking and he felt even colder than before.

“That’s probably the adrenaline,” Tommy said. “You’re out here being a hero and saving everybody without even taking care of yourself.”

Nancy reappeared and her eyes widened in horror as Tommy cut up Carlos’ shirt and exposed his abdomen. “Nancy, go get T.K.”

“Cap…”

“Go quickly please,” Tommy said and now Carlos heard the sharp edge of urgency in her voice. “Here we go Carlos, take some deep breaths for me okay? This might hurt.”

Oh! Carlos choked back a cry as she put pressure on his right side. A lot of pressure. Pressure that sent all the agony he hadn’t been feeling burning through his body. He tried to arch his back and move away from her, but either he was weak from blood loss or she was stronger than she looked.

“Easy, easy Carlos,” she said as he gritted his teeth and tried not to let out another pained moan. “Try and relax for me. I know it’s hard, but I need you to stay as still as possible.”

Stay still when it felt like he was on fire?

T.K. appeared above him, eyes wild with fear, a hand cupping his cheek. “Cap what—?”

“Gunshot wound to the lower right quadrant,” Tommy said evenly. “No apparent exit wound. Nancy get him on oxygen. T.K. can you work?”

“I—“

“Yes or no?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, yes I can,” T.K. said, but Carlos could see tears in his eyes. He wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but his arms didn’t seem to be working anymore. He felt weirdly detached from his body. Detached from everything except the pain radiating through his side.

“Okay let’s get him on some fluids,” Tommy ordered. “How you doing Carlos?”

“Fine,” Carlos slurred from underneath the oxygen mask. He didn’t like the way the air blew against his face, but breathing did seem easier so he didn’t try and pull it off.

“Carlos stay awake,” Nancy ordered when his eyes slid shut.

He forced them open again. Why? Why did he need to stay awake? He couldn’t quite remember.

“T.K.?” his eyes searched for his boyfriend, it was hard to see with the mask covering half his face.

“I’m right here babe,” T.K. said, appearing in front of his eyes. “You’re all right. You’re going to be just fine okay?”

He put a hand on Carlos’ head and Carlos felt an odd urge to cry, tears pricking at his eyes, his throat tightening, making it even harder to breathe.

“Let’s get him on the gurney,” Tommy ordered. “Carlos let us do the work okay? We’re going to get you out of here.”

He might have blacked out when they lifted him onto the gurney. He definitely threw up. It was horrible.

T.K. got the mask off just in time and Nancy rushed to put a basin under his chin. He fell back with a moan that turned into a whine, not something he was particularly proud of. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when he’d just been shaky and weak in the knees. Nothing had hurt then. Now everything hurt and he wanted it to stop.

“T.K.,” he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes as they slid him inside.

“I know, I know it hurts babe,” T.K. said and Carlos could see he was near to tears as well. “Tommy can we up his morphine?”

“Give him a few more milligrams,” Tommy said as she slammed the doors shut behind her. “Let’s go Nancy!”

Carlos felt a tiny bit of relief from the pain as medication flooded his veins. He pulled the oxygen mask from his face. “My parents,” he rasped.

“I will call them as soon as we get to the hospital,” T.K. promised.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said, closing his eyes as tears slipped down his face.

“No, no, no,” T.K. said quickly, putting the oxygen mask back in place and stroking his hair. “You don’t need to be sorry. You are good and brave and perfect and you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t want to leave you,” Carlos said, his heart splitting into two at the thought.

“You’re not,” T.K. said firmly. “You’re not leaving. Right Tommy?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said as she adjusted the IV’s. “You are staying right here with us. A little surgery, a few days in the hospital, and you’re going to be good as new.”

“See?” T.K. said, his voice breaking just a little as his thumb moved back and forth over Carlos’ forehead. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”

He drifted in and out after that, everything coming in flashes and blurs of noise and light and pain.

“I love you,” T.K. said to him over and over again, pressing his lips against Carlos’ forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up."

And then he was gone and there was pain and strangers and the sharp smell of antiseptic burning in his nostrils. There were voices all around but he didn’t understand what they were saying, didn’t know what was happening until someone with a soft voice took his hand.

“Officer Reyes we’re taking you into surgery now. They’re going to remove the bullet and repair any damage. You’re going to go to sleep and when you wake up things will be much better.”

Then someone was putting something over his face, telling him to count, but he was so tired and his tongue felt leaden in his mouth.

He had no idea how much time passed. He woke up to voices, some familiar some not, and excruciating pain in his side. He might have cried, he thought maybe someone wiped his tears away. Someone definitely put a straw in his mouth and encouraged him to drink, which felt good on his dry throat, but then he was drifting again.

Everything was heavy and tired and painful and sleep kept dragging him under again and again like waves beating against the shore. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them, not even when T.K. was whispering things in his ear or when he felt his mother run her fingers through his hair.

It felt like a long time before he was able to swim up from the darkness and blink his eyes open in the harsh lighting of his hospital room. He swallowed hard, his mouth and throat still parched and tasting of medication. “There he is.”

Carlos turned his head and found his father sitting by his bed, a smile on his face. “Are you with us mijo?”

Carlos nodded, brain still foggy as he tried to piece together the events that had gotten him here. “Are you in pain Carlitos?”

His eyes searched until he found his mother sitting in a second chair, a pile of knitting in her lap. “I was shot?” he asks, his voice coming out raw.

“Yes, mijo,” his father said, sitting forward. “At the grocery store.”

“How,” he swallowed painfully, “how long?”

“It’s been about six hours,” his mother said. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Carlos winced. “Bad?” he asked, apparently only capable of single syllable words.

“Nothing they couldn’t fix,” his dad assured him. “They were able to remove the bullet without complications. There was minimal damage. You can ask your boy, he knows all the medical stuff they’ve been talking about.”

“Where is he?” Carlos asked, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

“He just went home to get some things for you,” his mom said. “He got here before we did and hasn’t left your side, but we knew it could be a while before you woke up and he was still in his uniform. He looked very uncomfortable.”

“He should be back soon. Do you want us to call him? Tell him what you’d like from home?” his father asked.

Carlos shook his head, already feeling himself drifting away again. “Just tell him to come back.”

His mother squeezed his leg through the sheets. “He’s coming Carlitos. He’ll be here soon. Just rest now.”

The next time he opened his eyes T.K. was there. His uniform was gone, replaced by jeans and a grey hoodie, the strings of which he was fiddling with absentmindedly as he stared a hole into the wall across the room. “Hey,” Carlos croaked.

T.K.’s eyes immediately flicked to him and he sat forward on the chair. “Hey babe,” he said softly, his face a mask of worry and exhaustion. “How are you feeling?”

In pain was the answer, but Carlos wasn’t going to let him know that. “I love you,” he managed to croak out, tears tightening his throat.

“I love you too,” T.K. said, reaching for his hand and threading their fingers together reassuringly. “I love you so much.”

Carlos shook his head and tried to get his emotions under control. “I made peace so long ago with the idea that one of us might die in the line of duty. But I never…I didn’t ever think that picking up groceries…”

“I know,” T.K. said. “Me neither.”

Carlos shook his head and had to swallow down a moan of pain as he tried to get more comfortable in the bed, a seemingly futile task. “Easy,” T.K. said, coming to help him. “Take it from someone who knows, bullet wounds hurt like hell.”

“I uh, I asked my parents but they don’t understand everything like you do. How bad is it?”

T.K. squeezed his hand. “As far as gunshot wounds go, you got very lucky. It missed everything vital. Barring any complications you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

Carlos exhaled slowly and looked up at the ceiling. “Okay. Good.”

“How’s your pain?” T.K. asked. “Do you need more medication?”

“No, I’m all right,” Carlos said even though the pain in his side was slowly growing from an ache to a knifelike stabbing.

T.K. fixed him with a look. “You don’t have to be brave,” he said bluntly. “If you need more medication, you can have more medication. There’s no reason to tough this out. It won’t speed up your healing time at all.”

It was all said in a forceful, strained tone and Carlos took a good look at his boyfriend, noting the pallor of his face, how drawn he seemed. “Are you okay?”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed,” T.K. pointed out.

“And you’re the one who had to save my life while I was bleeding out on the street,” Carlos countered.

“You should be resting, not worrying about my feelings.”

“If you don’t talk to me I’ll just worry more.”

“Carlos.”

“T.K.” Carlos gave him a pointed look.

T.K. sighed and leaned back in his chair before looking into Carlos’ eyes. “It was terrifying. The most…terrifying thing I’ve ever lived through. And I feel,” his voice caught. “I feel so guilty that I didn’t see it when I first got there. That I let you walk around, bleeding out…Carlos I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Carlos said. “T.K., this was not your fault.”

T.K. clenched his jaw and shook his head. “You, and Tommy, and Nancy, and your parents and, my parents can say that all you want. But I’m going to have to live with the guilt for a while.”

“You were doing your job. You were helping people who needed to be helped.”

T.K. leaned forward, pain in his eyes. “My first, and most important job is taking care of you.”

“You did,” Carlos said. “You always do.”

T.K. still looked like he was in pain. “Is there something else?” Carlos asked. “You can tell me.”

He shook his head. “You’re tired and you’re hurting. We can have this conversation another time. You don’t need to be worried about me right now.”

“I always worry about you,” Carlos said. “That’s part of the deal in a relationship.”

T.K. blew out a breath. “You know, when Alex and I ended, I had to figure out how to be enough for myself. To look inside myself for strength. To find it within me to continue on with life even when it got tough.

“And then I met you and it was so easy. Being with you is…it’s the best I’ve ever felt. I feel whole. Like myself. And looking at you in that street, holding your hand, trying so hard to keep you alive…I had a lot of time in the waiting room to sort through my feelings and try to…try to figure things out.”

“And?” Carlos asked gently.

T.K.’s mouth shaped into a sad, forlorn smile. “I realized that…I can do it. I can do this life without you.” His breath caught and Carlos saw tears pool in his eyes. “But I really, really don’t want to.”

“Hey.” Carlos reached out a hand and gently grasped T.K.’s wrist. “You don’t have to. I’m here.”

T.K. finally managed a small smile. He reached up and smoothed a curl from Carlos’ forehead. “Yes. You are.”

He cleared his throat and Carlos watched him shove all his pain and feelings deeply back inside. They would need to pick up this conversation later. Maybe when his mind was a little less foggy and his entire body didn’t hurt like hell.

“And listen, we’re even now. I got shot, you got shot, that’s enough. It’s not a competition,” T.K. said, flashing a manufactured smile.

“I will definitely try not to get shot again,” Carlos promised. “How’s everyone else? The man with the gunshot wound and the guy with the broken ankle?”

“Both fine thanks to you. Everyone else only had minor injuries. You’re a hero,” T.K. told him. “Your face is all over the news.”

Carlos closed his eyes and groaned. “How did they get my name?”

T.K. gave him a wry smile. “Adriana and Francesca are in the waiting room with your parents. I think they’ve hit on every doctor, nurse, and orderly in the place.”

Carlos sighed. “And they talked to the news crews.”

“They really didn’t like you being referred to as an unidentified officer. They’d like you to get full credit for your heroics. And hopefully a medal. And a monetary reward. Which you will use to take them on vacation.”

“God they’re the worst.”

“They definitely are,” T.K. agreed. His face sobered. “But they’ve been here since I texted and refuse to leave even though they can’t come up. Underneath their astonishingly blatant horniness and greed, they’re really worried about you.”

“They always come through,” Carlos said.

“They also brought coffee and donuts. Don’t tell them, but I love them.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He shivered and winced as he was reminded that any movement at all was beyond painful.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asked.

“A little.”

“It’s probably the blood loss.” He reached into the duffel bag next to him and pulled out a blanket that Carlos recognized.

“You brought me a blanket from home?” Carlos asked, heart melting at his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

“Hospitals are notoriously cold and their blankets notoriously suck,” T.K. told him as he tucked it gently around his legs. He kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “You should try and get some sleep. Hospital wake up call comes early.”

“Thank you,” Carlos said. “You’ll uh, you’ll stay with me?”

T.K. smiled and leaned closer, carding his fingers through Carlos’ curls. “If you’re here, I’m here.”

#911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand #Tarlos #Gunshot wound #Hurt Carlos #Carlos whump #Ambulance ride #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Hurt/Comfort #911 LS #Tarlos Fic

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

Link

follow you to the beginning (just to relive the start) - Sam/Deena - Fake Dating AU

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Simon Kalivoda, Samantha "Sam" Fraser & Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Deena Johnson & Kate Schmidt, Deena Johnson & Simon Kalivoda, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Deena Johnson, Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Kate Schmidt (Fear Street), Simon Kalivoda, Josh Johnson (Fear Street), Peter (Fear Street Part 1: 1994), Background & Cameo Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon Lesbian Character, Slow Burn, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Best Friends, High School, Angst, Humor, Fluff, First Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Sam and Deena are next-door neighbors, and they inevitably and enthusiastically become best friends... until childhood gives way to tragedy, grudges, and regret.

By the time they make it to high school, Sam and Deena are still next-door neighbors but also sworn enemies... until high school introduces bigger threats that they will need to face together.

Faking a relationship might be a bad idea. But it might be the only way for Sam and Deena to understand their shared past and their feelings for each other.

Chapter 1:

Sam and Deena became best friends during one perfect summer day when they were seven years old. In Shadyside, however, perfect days weren’t meant to exist. The only reason little Sam Fraser finally had the time and freedom to spend time with her next-door neighbor was because her parents were caught in the first big fight of hundreds more to come. A part of Sam would associate both events as one and the same for a long, long time. The beginning of her friendship with Deena and the downfall of the Fraser family. In contrast, Deena was living some of the best days of her life. Days that she would treasure and idolize, perhaps more than she should have, for many years to come. Her mother was alive, her father was sober, her little brother was safe in their hands. She had all the time in the world to go out into the backyard, lay on the ground, and look for shapes in the clouds. She had been doing that for a while then a shadow suddenly appeared over her.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. Her voice was still trembling slightly from the way she had run out of her house crying. Her eyes were red and she had a runny nose, but she looked genuinely curious to understand what her neighbor was doing.

Deena didn’t reply at first. She couldn’t. She was too shaken by the impact of Sam’s first impression on her. It wasn’t the very first time they met, of course. But their parents were usually hovering above them. So far they had never been alone together. They were very different kids, it was easy to tell with just one look. Not just physically, with Deena’s wild mane of curly brown hair and Sam’s being straight and blond, Deena’s brown eyes being warm and guarded meanwhile Sam’s blue eyes cried out her every emotion. It was also about the way Deena was thrown on the grass, comfortable and taking as much space as possible in her slightly oversized clothes that she picked herself, as long as they were in sale, while her mother fondly chuckled and followed her around the store in spite of which gendered aisle her daughter got lost in. Sam was the complete opposite, in her bright pink clothes that were always too loose or too tight because her mother didn’t care to bring her along when buying her clothes and it was made all the more noticeable by the way in which Sam stood tense and awkwardly, uncomfortable from head to toe, her feet restless as if ready to run at any given moment.

The silence between them had stretched out for too long, but Sam was good at waiting. Deena moved to a seated position and took a better look at the girl in front of her. “Fraser,” she blurted out. She couldn’t remember her neighbor’s name, but she knew her parents were Mr. and Mrs. Fraser of the constant frowns.

“Um, Johnson?” Sam tilted her head. She didn’t understand this game of calling out each other’s last names.

“I’m Deena,” the brunette said and jumped to her feet, not bothering to brush away the grass stuck to her clothes.

“Sam,” the other girl offered her hand.

Deena laughed, but she was troubled. She wanted to laugh so much more. There was this weird girl in front of her, obviously a second away from bursting into tears again, probably from the weight of the glittery pink ribbon on her head, and she was offering Deena her hand in greeting. However, her laughter died in Deena’s throat. The instinct to tease was, for once, overpowered by something new and somewhat unfamiliar. She didn’t know it was protectiveness, she didn’t understand what it was at all. She only felt a pull on her heart that wanted to make sure her neighbor was okay.

So, Deena shook Sam’s hand. She invited her to lay down with her to watch shapes in the clouds. She didn’t laugh at Sam, she made it her mission to make Sam laugh. Unknowingly, with that innocent handshake, they were starting out together the greatest adventure of their lives, with all the glorious ups and devastating downs that it would include.

It was still early, they had the entire day ahead of them, and under the clear blue Shadyside sky, the world was all theirs.

They started lying down on the grass, side by side, looking up at the clouds. At first, it was perfect, and fun. Sam’s stomach started aching from how hard she was laughing every time Deena pointed out at the sky and said “That one looks like a butt.” And then Sam would point at a completely unidentifiable cloud and say, “That one looks like a robot.”

“What?!” Deena laughed wholeheartedly. “No, it doesn’t! You weirdo.”

Sam’s laughter dimmed. “Do you think I’m weird?”

“No!” Deena scoffed. “Isn’t that like a compliment?”

The blonde hummed in response. She hadn’t considered that the other girl was just as inexperienced at talking to other girls her age.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Enough silence for Sam to remember the deafening noise of her parents fighting, blaming each other, blaming her, blaming the town. Before she could stop it, Sam was crying again.

“Sam?” Deena called her name. She moved to a seated position and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. I really don’t think you’re that weird.”

“That weird?” Sam chuckled through her tears.

Deena laughed along with her, but she still looked out of her comfort zone dealing with her crying neighbor. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” Sam wiped her tears away, willing herself to regain her composure as her mother always told her to do. “I just… cry a lot. My dad says it’s because my mom doesn’t have feelings and I have to cry for the both of us.”

“Okay,” Deena nodded, not knowing how to put into words how wrong that sounded. Then she noticed a single blade of grass stuck to Sam’s pretty blonde hair. “Hold on Sam, you have grass on your head,” Deena said, and reached out to take it off.

However, Deena’s hand on her hair made an idea light up in Sam’s mind. She gasped and grabbed Deena’s wrist, holding her in place. “We should make flower crowns!”

“What?!”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to do it,” Sam smiled teasingly.

“Of course I do!” Deena scoffed. She was happy to see Sam smile, but she was second-guessing her previous statement about the blonde not being weird. Plus, it turned out not even Sam knew how to make flower crowns. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

The two girls ended up hiding behind flower bushes between their homes. Sam had entertained herself weaving the prettiest flowers she could find in Deena’s curls. Meanwhile, Deena was content pulling blades of grass and unceremoniously letting them fall on Sam’s head. Deena couldn’t understand how Sam could be unbothered by the game. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Sam didn’t have many friends. In fact, not too long later, Sam whispered, “You’re my first real friend.”

Deena beamed upon hearing the words. She was happy with her parents and baby brother but, secretly, she had always wished for a friend, a girl like her, and here she was, finally. “You’re my only friend too,” Deena replied, a little shyly.

“Really?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Deena chuckled.

The blonde hummed thoughtfully. “I think that makes us best friends,” Sam said.

“Oh yeah?” Deena asked. She received a confident nod in response. That made sense to her too. “Then we should celebrate.” She jumped to her feet and offered her hand to Sam, who didn’t hesitate to follow.

The day was long, and there was so much they were dying to show each other. The hours passed by in a sun-bathed blur of childish laughter. They did everything and nothing, jumping without reason, running without destination, rolling in the grass, picking flowers, climbing trees, scratching their knees, and jumping back up into made-up games and fantasy scenarios that they hadn’t ever had a chance to share with anybody.

There were a thousand little moments that years later they would wish they could have immortalized some way. When Deena showed Sam a spider and Sam ran away. When Deena hurt her finger with a thorn from Sam’s mother’s rose bushes, and Sam kissed the afflicted finger and promised she wouldn’t tell anybody Deena cried.

When Deena started climbing the tree at the back of the backyard, Sam started freaking out. “Deena! You’ll hurt yourself!” Sam repeated many times. Deena was thinking Sam sounded older than she really was when she was worried.

“I won’t,” the blonde scoffed, getting comfortable in what actually was a really low branch of the tree. “Besides, if I fall you can catch me!”

“I can try!” Sam said, throwing her arms around her. “But you’ll probably crush me and then we’ll both be dead!”

“Hey! I’m not that heavy!”

Deena’s protest, unfortunately, made her lose her balance. For a moment, she was hanging from the branch of the tree, feeling her heart on her throat. But then Sam’s slender arms were holding on to her legs, as tightly as the little girl was capable of. Deena smiled brightly. She felt surprisingly safe, even if she knew that Sam wasn’t strong enough to literally hold her up. “Sam, let go, it’s okay, I got it,” Deena let her know.

Sam stepped back to let Deena land on her feet, but a second later she was back, wrapping her arms around Deena’s torso this time, holding just as tightly if not more. “You scared me,” Sam mumbled, her voice muffled by the way she had her face pressed against Deena’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Deena said. She let her arms fall limply at her sides. She still felt out of her depth with Sam, even after one of the best days of her life. Her instinct told her to make fun of Sam, who was moved near to tears. But her heart stopped her for unknown reasons. Instead, she let her cheek rest on top of Sam’s head. At the time, Deena was taller. “It’s okay,” Deena repeated. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m your best friend, remember? I don’t think I’m allowed to leave you now.”

Sam chuckled and finally dropped her arms. Deena felt a chill at the loss. “Do you promise?” Sam asked.

Deena frowned a little, but continued to smile. “I promise,” she said, finding it increasingly difficult to say not the blonde girl that had stumbled into her personal space earlier that day with tears still in her eyes.

“Okay,” Sam exclaimed. She leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on Deena’s cheek. She was so excited it nearly threw both of them off balance, and when she pulled back, they were both blushing. But they moved on quickly, that day. Sam took Deena’s hand and started leading her to a different spot in the wide and free space behind their houses. “My mom told me about a spa. It’s a place where they put mud in your face to make you pretty. We should try it.”

“I’m already pretty!” Deena protested.

“Yeah, you are,” Sam shrugged. “But maybe it can help me.”

“You are more than pretty, Sam,” Deena frowned.

That made the blonde girl stop in her tracks. “Do you think so?” She asked Deena, and the brunette nodded enthusiastically. Sam was thoughtful for a moment, but eventually shrugged, and tried to continue with her plans, clearly not completely believing the other girl’s words. She was stopped by Deena a moment later, refusing to go further.

“Hey, you didn’t make the promise too,” Deena pointed out.

“Oh! You’re right,” Sam nodded, very seriously. “Okay then… I promise to always be your best friend, and to never leave you, and… um, is there something else?” She looked up at Deena for guidance.

Deena grinned at her. “No, that’s it. That’s cool.”

The two girls started laughing again, and continued with their games for a long time. They did end up playing with the mud, and then tried to wash it off, creating a bigger mess, with the hose they found behind Deena’s house.

Toward the end of the day, when the sun started to set, both girls were well aware that their parents would be coming out at any moment to call them back home. They chose to end their first day as best friends exactly how they started it. They lay on the grass in the backyard in between their houses, and they looked up at the infinite sky above them. There weren’t many clouds anymore, but the first stars were showing up in the sky, and they were more than happy to count them one by one.

That was how it started. One perfect day, and dozens of them just the same. Sam ran away from her house to the backyard every time her parents were having a fight. Deena made her laugh until Sam couldn’t remember crying for anything other reason than pure joy. Sam picked the prettiest flowers she could find and gave them to Deena, and hugged her especially tight every time Deena fell down from the tree she loved to climb. From the Johnsons’ window, Deena’s mom watched them fondly, happy that her daughter had a friend. From the Frasers’ window, Sam’s mom watched them with a frown on her face, upset about Sam ruining her clothes. But they never had reasons to stop them from having fun, they didn’t have any reason to put barriers between their daughters. And the two girls couldn’t imagine a world where they would be anything but the best of friends.

Much like everything in Shadyside, their perfect days would soon come to a bitter end but, even then, it wouldn’t be the end of Sam and Deena’s story.

#hello! please support and share and read and comment and i'll love u forever! <333 #it's my attempt at childhood friends to enemies to lovers via fake dating #fear street #sameena #sam x deena #deena x sam #sam fraser #deena johnson #fear street fanfic #fs #my fic

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amlovelies · 3 years

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38 or 2 for Cynthia

thank you for the prompt! I'm going to go with #38 "A person’s weight as they lie on top of you" I may have an idea for #2 with ric and vesper this is probably as close as I get to smut these days, but with a healthy dose of angst because of who I am as a person 🥰 sidestep days/preheartbreak and mild retribution spoilers. also fuck the new post editior because it keeps erasing all my indents. so I’d recommend reading this on ao3.

from this sensory prompts list

upon a razor's edge

fandom: fhr pairing: julia ortega/f!sidestep (Cynthia Basri) rating: M no smut but some heavy petting mention of dissociating words: 1.4k read on ao3

You’ve never been a hug fan of movies. The people on the screen too distant, no thoughts to touch, no impressions to get, so often you’ve misunderstood. Their motivations so hard to figure out, the hidden meaning behind their words impossible to decipher, but you still say yes when Ortega asks if you’d like to come over for dinner and a movie.

It’s something old: way before the big one, black and white, a relic of a different world. Dessert lays abandoned on the coffee table. Store bought, Ortega knew to play to their strengths, but even then, it had been too sweet, you’d only managed to eat half of it before giving up.

You’ve both migrated closer to the center of the couch, no longer safe in your corners. She’s close, so close, when did her arm go around your shoulders? You jump a little when her hand touches your leg, the touch is gentle, small absentminded movements, and you wonder if she even notices. Always so tactile, needing to touch, to connect, to hug with everyone. A slap on the back for Steel, a hug for Anathema, tossing an arm around Sunstream’s shoulders as she leave training. It means nothing to her. This closeness. You’d adjusted to it pretty well, no longer panicking and dancing away from her outstretched hands, until the kiss that was.

She keeps kissing you. You are sure you aren’t the only one she’s kissing, not with all the dates and events the tabloids are so happy to share, but it still feels special, personal. Maybe it’s because she’s the only person you’ve ever kissed. You can’t imagine ever kissing anyone else. Only Ortega would be stupid and stubborn enough to want to kiss you in the first place.

A glance, and she is looking at you, is she thinking of kissing you? You can’t tell. Anyone else and you could tell, but not her. Always a mystery.

You want her to. You shouldn’t, but you do. You’d never understood the saying about butterflies in your stomach, but you do now, the agitated swirling in your stomach like the fluttering of hundreds of wings matching the rapid beat of your heart. You keep waiting, waiting for her to bridge the gap like she always does. Her arm tightens a little on your shoulder and you draw in a quick breath, sure that any moment now she will move, but the only thing moving in her hand drawing small circles on your legs.

She’s not moving, just smiling at you with that smug look on her face like she’s the one with telepathy. Like she knows how badly you want. You want to scream, to push her away, to pull her closer, you can’t decide. You want her to take mercy on you and do something, Anything besides this waiting.

It feels like an eternity passes, but it’s probably only a moment or two, and then her lips are on yours. Soft, just a gentle pressure, which you answer with a hunger that surprises you both.

Her hand winds into your hair as she pulls you closer. The kiss deepening, leaving you grasping her arm for support. Firm muscles and the softness of her bare skin sliding under your palm.

She pushes forward, moving you backwards until your back hits the couch cushions and she is looming over you. A quiet gasp escapes you at the press of her body against yours. It’s overwhelming having her this close. It’s like standing outside during a storm. The crackling scent of ozone and the heady depths of her cologne mixing and filing your scenes. This is dangerous, but you feel so alive. She makes you feel alive.

You should push her away, but that would mean she stops touching you. You will have to stop it eventually, but not just yet. Your whole life is lived on the razor’s edge, why should this be any different?

She tastes like caramel. Just a hint of sweetness as she pulls your bottom lip into her mouth, the bite just sharp enough to make your body ache in ways you didn’t know it could.

Her mouth leaves your and you could cry from the loss, but then she is pressing hot wet kisses along your neck. A small moan escapes you as her lips press down on your pulse point and your hips twitch involuntarily. Her feel rather than hear her chuckle. She’ll be smug about this for sure, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

The static in her brain must be contagious. Pushing in and swallowing any rational thought until you feel like a storm of sensations. Her hands leaving trails over your skin. Even through your clothes all your hairs stand on end, as if every part of you wants to be closer to her. Ortega is a force of nature. How are you supposed to resist that, resist her? How are you supposed to pretend you even want to?

Have you ever felt more human than you do with her hands on you? Like you actually are your body rather than just sitting in the driver’s seat. There’s nowhere for your consciousness to escape to, the little pieces of your mind that are usually on alert, finding nothing to grip onto retreating back into yourself. Forced back into your body, into the moment, and her. Maybe that’s why you can’t stop this. Why you can’t give up the madness that is kissing Ortega.

Your nerves sings as she passes her hand down your side. Her grip digs into your hip, pulling you closer, so close, nothing but clothing between you. Her leg is slotted in-between yours and you can feel the heat of her where she is straddling your thigh. She rocks her leg against you. Just a little, just enough to make you groan.

Her fingers dip under your shirt, seeking skin. God, you wish you could feel her skin against yours, but all she finds is your suit instead. Your last line of defense, because you can’t actually go through with this. No matter how much you want to. Her movements slow down in surprise and then stopping all together in recognition.

“Expecting a fight?” she asks with a laugh.

“Always,” you respond as you take to opportunity to sit up, to put some distance between the two of you.

She doesn’t understand that this is a fight. A fight against yourself and her smile. A fight that you can’t lose, and it got too close tonight. If you let yourself give into your desires it would mean losing her. It would mean losing the illusion of humanity that you cling to. Losing the self that you’ve built from the ground up.

She frowns a little as you shift position, but she doesn’t protest. She looks a little wild, her cheeks flushed and her lips kiss swollen. She’s so beautiful that it makes your heart clench. You still don’t understand what she could see in you.

Nothing. It’s probably just boredom. It’s easier to think now that she isn’t touching you. The movie is over and the credit are rolling. You missed the ending.

“It’s late. I should get going.”

“Not too late. We could make it a double feature,” your voice is sultry, tempting, and she reaches out to run a hand down your back. You want to stay. You want to stay and lose yourself in her touch, but instead you jerk away.

“Or not,” you can hear the confusion in her voice. You don’t blame her. You shouldn’t have let it go this far in the first place. Of course, she’s going to be confused.

You should have put a stop to it after the first kiss, you tried. You really did. Even considered leaving the city, but you’d stayed, so sure it was just a passing impulse on Ortega’s part. After all she was used to playing the field. It can’t mean anything to her.

You’re halfway to the door before you hear her call your name.

“Yeah?” you ask just glancing over your shoulder. You don’t trust yourself to turn around and face her. Not when you can still feel the ghost of her hands on your body. Not when you want to break so badly.

“Text me when you get home okay.”

“I will,” you promise.

The night air is cold and bracing. Exactly what you need. You tell yourself you’ll be more careful in the future. You won’t let things go so far.

You’re a liar.

tagging (aski to be added/removed) @lord-king-saint @lilyoffandoms @roses-and-roux

#thank you for the prompt!#ask #bunny loverxiv #lovelieswrites #sensory prompts #if: fhr #fhr ortega #oc: cynthia basri #ship: you’ll be her ruin #ship: chargestep #sidestep days #retribution spoilers #nsft

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calebdumes · 3 years

Text

one part oblivious ezra, one part baby. shake well.

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: ghost family feels || minor kanera

rating: n/r

word count: 1k

When Ezra sacrificed himself to save his family and Lothal, he accepted the fact that he might spend the rest of his life lost in Wild Space with Thrawn. He didn’t let himself dwell on the what ifs or maybes that filtered in and out of his head. It was better not to think of them in case Sabine never got his message. He still had hope that she would find him one day but he didn’t allow himself the luxury of expecting rescue anytime soon.

So, needless to say, he was pleasantly surprised when she showed up with Ahsoka eleven months into his self imposed solitude. He listened with bated breath as she detailed everything that he had missed while he was gone, his heart nearly leaping from his chest when she told him Kanan was alive. Somehow, against all odds he had survived the explosion at the fuel depot.

He had felt Kanan’s presence in his mind but he had thought...he just thought it was an impression, a faded memory of his master. He never imagined it was actually him.

Ezra didn’t realize he was crying until Sabine handed him a cloth to wipe his face.

When they finally made it to Yavin IV, Ezra felt like he was going to explode with excitement. He was finally going to see his family again. In the grand scheme of things, eleven months wasn’t that long of a time span but to Ezra, it felt like a lifetime.

He bounded down the ramp the second Ahsoka landed the small freighter, taking off across the tarmac to where he saw the Ghost parked in the shadow of the crumbling temple that hid the rebel base. He paid no attention to the flight hands and pilots that milled about, his eyes trained on a familiar profile standing at the base of the Ghost.

Ezra slammed into his master’s back, causing Kanan to stumble with the force of his embrace. He clung to him, his shoulders hitching with desperate cries, Kanan was here. He was alive.

“You’re alive!” he said, pulling away as Kanan turned to face him. There was thick scarring on his old master’s face, ropy while lines that trailed down the right side, disappearing down past the collar of his shirt. His eyes were still the familiar shade of teal that Ezra remembered and his hair had grown long since his absence, tried back into a loose bun. Some of the stands had slipped free and framed his smiling face.

“I’m alive.” Kanan echoed, his happiness radiation through their bond and filling Ezra with warmth. “And so are you.”

“How? How did you survive that explosion?”

“It’s a long story.” Ezra could feel Kanan’s smile reflected on his own face, pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s good to see you kid.”

Ezra opened his mouth to respond when he paused, his mind registering the small being strapped to his master’s chest.

It was a baby, with the same warm amber skin as Kanan only there were patches of green on its cheeks and chubby little arms and legs. It had pointed ears and a shock of green hair a shade darker than Hera’s skin tone. Ezra blinked in confusion before saying, “What is that?”

“It’s a baby Ezra.” Kanan replied, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Yeah I get it’s a baby but why do you have it?”

“He’s my baby.”

Ezra frowned. “Kanan, you can’t just take other people's babies. Or did you like, find this one on a mission or something?”

Behind him, he heard Ahsoka snort with laughter as she and Sabine finally caught up.

“I didn’t take someone else's baby Ezra.” Kanan said indignantly, rolling the little baby toes between his scarred fingers. “He’s my baby. This is Jacen.”

“Your baby?”

Sabine punched him on the arm. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Hera had a baby.”

“Hera had a what?”

“Did wild space fry your brain or something?” Kanan asked with a smirk, the little baby strapped to his chest gurgling happily as Ahsoka tickled his chin with one of her long orange fingers.

“Maybe it’s hyperspace sickness?” she suggested. “Or a side effect of purgill travel?”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Ezra said, still trying to wrap his head around it all. “Are you telling me that you and Hera had a baby?”

“I’m pretty sure I just said that.” Sabine rolled her eyes.

Ezra gapped, his eyes darting from Kanan to the baby. He kind of did have Hera’s nose and his eyes were just like Kanan’s. “How?”

“Nope.” Kanan shook his head. “Not telling you that.”

Ezra shuttered. “Ew gross. No. I mean like, was this a planned thing or I don’t know - did you just wake up one day and decide to have a kid? Were you going to tell the rest of us about it? How old is he? Can he use the Force like you?”

“Ezra.” Kanan took hold of his shoulders, the space between them filled with a tiny, squirming baby that was looking at Ezra with big curious eyes. He reached out a shaking finger and touched the tip of the baby’s nose. The baby giggled, his fat little hand latching on to him. “You’ve got time. You don’t have to find out everything all at once.” Kanan asked softly.

He did have the time, didn’t he? He had all the time in the galaxy. Because he was finally back where he belonged - with the rebellion, with his family. He smiled at the little bundle, feeling his soft baby skin against his own, the Force flaring like a bright spark in his mind.

“Yeah.” he breathed as the baby began to tug his fingers towards his mouth. “Wait,” he looked up at Kanan suddenly. “Does this make me an older brother?”

Kanan smiled and ruffled Ezra’s hair. “Congratulations on not being the youngest specter anymore. C’mon inside.” he said. “Hera’s meeting should be over soon and she doesn’t think you’ll be back for another day or two. I want to surprise her.”

“Kanan.” Ahsoka said wearily as they all began climbing up the ramp into the belly of the Ghost.

“What? It’ll be funny!”

“Yeah, funny when she beats your ass.” Sabine snickered.

“She would never.”

“Oh yes she would.” Sabine sniped back. “And she’d have Zeb hold you down.”

Ezra smiled. It was good to be home.

#kanan jarrus #ezra bridger #sabine wren #star wars rebels #star wars #star wars: rebels #you could always see me #look at me write #shleby writes #this is literally the first thing that popped into my head this morning #and i kind of love it #i wanted to tag kanera but i don't feel like there was enough to put it in the tags #soooooooo #kanera

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imagines-by-rose · 3 years

Text

Turning Point

Hello again! Have some angst, on the house ;)

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Genre: Angst w/Happy Ending

Warnings: Mentions of Blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eggsy was running at full tilt through the foggy streets, the echoes of y/n’s anguished screams carried to him over the hard brick. Freezing rain pelted relentlessly against him and formed dark, icy pools at the foot of the surrounding buildings that seemed to loom, stifling, over him from all sides. He heard her shriek his name and was unable to ease his growing panic.

He stumbled on the slick cobblestone when he barreled around the corner, and when he righted himself he was met with blinding police lights, a pile of rubble where his house once stood, and y/n, fighting with all she had to run toward the ruined home against the restraint of two EMTs. An ambulance was parked nearby at the ready.

“NOO! Please! You have to let me find him, please!”

Eggsy weaved untouched through the police blockade. “Y/N!”

She stilled at his call and turned to him in disbelief. Her eyes were wild, and if it weren’t for the rain her hot tears would have left heavy tracks down her reddened cheeks. She doubled over with wracked sobs and fell hard onto her knees.

The EMTs relaxed their hold on her and y/n reached out to Eggsy, desperate. When he finally made it to her she clung to him, white knuckles stark against the dark fabric of his coat. He dropped down to her, holding her as close as he possibly could.

“I’m here, love. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Y/n’s voice strained through broken sobs, her words muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” The mantra fell like a prayer from her lips.

“You’re alive.”

Suddenly it dawned on him. She thought he’d been inside. That he’d been killed. His stomach wrenched when he realized what she must have gone through.

“Oh God, baby, I’m so sorry.” He tightened his grip when she shuddered against him, and he brought a comforting hand to her head. “Shh. Oh, y/n. It’s alright, love. I’m here. It’s okay. I’m okay. I wasn’t home, it’s okay.”

One of the EMTs gestured to him. “Oi. You this Eggsy bloke she’s been on about?”

Eggsy looked up and nodded, y/n’s head still buried in the crook of his neck.

“You mind helpin’ me with her? Been completely mental since she woke up, tryin’ to get back in that bloody house an’ all. She needs to get to a hospital. She’s in shock.”

Eggsy lightly gripped y/n’s arms and pulled away to look her over. His chest seized when he noticed dark streaks of blood dripping down her temple. “What? Baby, you’re hurt. The hell were you thinking running out like that? We’re getting you to a hospital, okay?”

Her face twisted in sorrow. “But you were inside. They said nobody could’ve made it out alive. I couldn’t let them leave without trying to find you -- I wouldn’t just abandon you like that!”

Eggsy tightened his throat, fighting his own emotions. He would deal with them later. Right now he just needed her in that ambulance.

He rubbed his hand in soothing motions down her arm. “I know, love, I know. But I’m here now, yeah? You don’t have to wait anymore. Let the medics help you, sweetheart. They know what to do. Please, baby.”

She lowered her head back onto his shoulder, her energy fading with her adrenaline.

“Will you stay with me?” She whispered, exhausted.

Eggsy looked to the EMT for an answer.

“You can ride in the cab with her, but you can’t interfere, yeah? You’ll have to let us work.”

“Of course.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eggsy sat in the waiting room, anxiously watching the clock. Two hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds later, a doctor came to see him.

She looked around the waiting room. “Mr. Unwin?”

Eggsy practically shot out of his seat. “Is y/n okay? What happened to her?”

“Y/n will recover just fine, Mr. Unwin. As for what happened, we believe she was walking home when the explosion occurred.” She looked over her clipboard. “She’s suffered a concussion, bruised ribs, laceration to her temple…” she returned her gaze to his. “We’re going to keep her overnight for evaluation in case any complications occur, but you can rest assured, Mr. Unwin; she’s going to be alright.”

Eggsy nearly regretted asking when he heard y/n’s injuries, but the news that she would recover was a welcome relief. “Can I see her?”

“Yes. She needs a calm environment, so don’t do anything to make her excited, alright?”

Eggsy gave her a hurried noise of agreement as he made his way down the hall.

The doctor smiled, offering a friendly “She’s in room 3102, by the way!” before Eggsy was out of earshot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n was awake when he entered the room, gauze bandages wrapped near her hairline. She was sitting upright, seemingly calm compared to the state she was in when Eggsy last saw her, but her puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

He was at her bedside in an instant, all but crushing his lips to hers. He brought a careful hand to her face, wary of her injuries. She laid her hand over his and gave it a small squeeze.

He rested his forehead gently against hers when they parted, his eyes closed in relief. “Hi, baby. How you feeling?”

“I’m fine, bub. Just a little cut is all.”

Eggsy pulled away, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. Y/n didn’t let go of his hand. “Your bandages say different, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I just can’t believe you’re here. You’re okay.”

His brow creased. “Of course it matters, y/n. Why didn’t you go with the EMTs when they told you to?” He tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting her to mistake his fear for anger. “What if your injuries had been worse, love?”

Y/n kept quiet, looking at their entwined hands.

Eggsy sighed. “I need to know that you’re okay, y/n. I need to know that even if I’m not, you will be.”

Her eyes tightened when she looked at him. Her voice lowered in what he thought may be anger, but he wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean, ‘even if you’re not?’” It sounded more like a command than a question.

He took a moment to choose his words, drawing a long breath through his nose. When his gaze returned to her his eyes were steeled. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but the tailor shop isn’t just a tailor shop. It's a front. I work for an organization much like MI6 called Kingsman.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “So you’re…an agent.”

“Yes. And I’m not going to lie to you about this, y/n. That missile was meant for me. I just happened to not be home, and I’m so glad you weren’t either. But this…” he shook his head, biting his lip, “this was too close. I can’t-- I won’t sacrifice your safety because of my job.”

“Eggsy, I swear to God if you even think about leaving me because of some macho bullshit like duty or honor I will--”

He cut her off with a dry laugh. “No, no, I’m not leaving. I would never leave you, love. But we’re going to have to live differently from now on. We’ll have to be more careful; set up some ground rules and safewords. But that’s selfish of me. I shouldn’t just-- I can’t presume to know what you want. That’s why I have to ask,” he lowered his head slightly, lips drawn and eyes careful, “would you rather live a normal life,” his voice quieted, “or stay with me?”

He was doing his best to remain stoic, y/n knew. But she didn’t miss the tension in his jaw, or the nearly imperceptible twitch in his brow. He was scared. Scared she’d choose normalcy over him.

As if.

“Is that even a question? Of course I’m staying with you, Eggsy.”

“And you know what you’re agreeing to? This life isn’t easy, love. This won’t be the last attack on--”

“I don’t care about that. I love you, you know. You and JB died in front of me today, as far as I knew.”

Eggsy winced. Y/n brought her free hand to his jaw, prompting him to meet her gaze. “But now you’ve come back to me. You’re here.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m spending the rest of my life with you, no matter what.”

She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled him to her, their lips crashing together once again. Eggsy’s tongue flicked across her lips which she parted eagerly. He brought his hands to her face, smoothing his thumbs over her tear-stained cheeks. Her breath hitched when he moved to kiss down her jaw to her neck, where he sucked on the tender skin. She whined when he pulled away, her lips unconsciously trailing after him.

He rested his head on her shoulder, breathless. “I know, ‘m sorry, love. But we can’t have you getting too worked up, yeah? Doctor’s orders.”

Y’n leaned back with a huff. “You’re such a fucking tease, Unwin. You know that?”

He laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to her shoulder. “You’re right, I’m the absolute worst. Just think of it as motivation to get better, yeah? We’ve got a wild ride ahead of us, love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#eggsy unwin #eggsy imagine #eggsy unwin x reader #taron egerton #Kingsman #kingsman golden circle #kingsman secret service #kingsman imagine

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Of Gorgons And Gardens

Fandom(s) : The Mandalorian and Prospect [2018]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader/Ezra

Rating: Holy shit uh. Explicit.

AN: That's right. I've done it. It's time for the sex pollen. This is a standalone that's not involved with either of my previous tales related to these fine boys, so we have a Death Watch-raised Mando that takes the Creed incredibly seriously and an Ezra that's well armed. Also I apologize for the constant viewpoint switches. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @hardcorewwetrash @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @oloreaa @theocatkov @jackierey09 @zombiexbody @crookedmoonsaultpunk @pedrosbigdorkenergy @absurdthirst @culturalrebel

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For obligatory dubious consent due to sex pollen, as well as threesome activities, breeding kink and gratuitous bodily fluids. Stay safe!]

The quarry was named Ezra. Not that their name mattered, the chain code was freshly generated. The strangest part was that there had been no image attached to the puck.

Din had tipped his helmet to the side, narrowing his eyes and tapping the bounty puck curiously. "Somethin' wrong with this?"

Karga shook his head. "No, he's just too slick for us to have any holorecords on him. Somebody from Bakhroma wants him alive."

Undocumented quarry was exceptionally rare, and not usually something that one requested a Mandalorian for. It indicated green prey, a first-time offender. "Bakhroma, huh? Pretty far out." He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a reason why Karga had offered him this one specifically.

"Guy apparently walked off with a majority of someone's aurelac pull. Typical floater squabble, but one of them ponied up the mining points for credits and asked for a certified, card-carryin' Mando." Karga had leaned back in the booth. "How's the kid?"

Din had just grunted noncommittally in reply, gloved fingers scooping the puck off the table. "I have to get back to the Crest."

…

"The target has been on Bakhroma relatively recently. Not sure if he was in the Green or not, but either way he'll probably be a walking biohazard." Mando muttered, turning his head towards you. "So you're staying put."

"Until something happens to you and I have to pull you out of the fire again." You retorted with a smirk.

"Hey, that was one time." You knew he was narrowing his eyes, though you weren't quite sure how you knew. Something about the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right clued you in.

"You were full of nexu quills."

"One. Time." The Mandalorian growled. "I even said thank you."

"You sure did," You replied, laughing. "Right before you passed out!"

He palmed over the side of your head roughly. "Brat." His grumble was fond, softening the edge of the insult. "Promise me you'll stay on the Crest, Senaar, otherwise I'll ask Omera to take you and the kid for an extended sleepover."

"Fine, I promise." You relented, huffing in annoyance.

He tinkered with his charts for a moment, then tilted his head again. "Where did you go earlier? I got done with Karga hours ago. Couldn't find you."

You stiffened, abruptly absorbed in checking the fuel levels. "Oh you know. Around." You said breezily.

"Well in the future, when you feel like going around, at least let me know so I don't think you've been abducted." Mando grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

"Aw, you're cute when you care!" You cooed, making him scoff and return to his control panel.

…

In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he was more pissed off about. The fact that this Ezra character had led him on a wild fucking chase over half of a suspiciously verdant moon, or the fact that his brain had apparently decided to shift into overdrive regarding you. He couldn't get you off…

Get you off his mind, that is. Stars, he was so confused.

He felt like he had been walking in circles for hours, the only noise the steady beep of the tracker. He was too hot. Thirsty. His armor was chafing like it never had before; it was less like an extension of his body and more like a too-tight skin he needed to shed. Din finally bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"You look like shit," drawled an unfamiliar voice while a set of knuckles rapped on the back of his helmet. Djarin jerked upright and immediately staggered, fumbling to grip a tree trunk for support. His vision swam uncertainly, and he blinked several times in an effort to clear it.

The man in front of him was clad in a utilitarian suit that bore an unfamiliar logo, maybe a mining corporation. No duraplast or durasteel visible, no unnecessary frills, old-fashioned rubber gaskets to seal where glove met sleeve. Din's gaze traveled upwards, past the man's chest to his large domed helmet. He kept his motions deliberate. He had been caught off-guard by this man, but he wouldn't--

What?!

"I'll assume you're encroaching upon my solitude to haul my undesirable personage back into civilized spaces?" The man inquired after Din had taken several long seconds to try and understand what he was seeing. "For monetary compensation, if I had to hazard a guess. There are few lures that tempt a man so far out into the uncharted."

Why does he have my face? Sure, the scars were different. Different facial hair, different hairstyle, and a wild little tuft of blond sprang from amidst the dark locks at his hairline. But it was him. Same brown eyes, same nose, same mouth curving into an infuriatingly benign smirk. Djarin was struck with the sudden urge to punch him, his belly writhing.

"I take it the dust has you firm in its grip. A real pity, that. I'd love to sympathize, but regrettably I am at an advanced state of the same condition." The quarry gestured at his right arm, where a bloodstain blooming on the fabric of his suit indicated a loss of the integrity of said suit. "I'm Ezra, though I'm certain you're already well aware. And you?"

"Irrelevant." Din grated out, clumsy fingers fumbling to get his binders off his belt.

"A man of action, excellent! I shall acquiesce, but only because being removed from this Centaurian mass is infinitely better than being confined to it." Ezra replied with a sage nod, extending his wrists. "Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

"Be quiet." The Mandalorian grunted, his mind still reeling. How does he have my face? Then, a new, far more troubling thought occurred to him.

If he turned Ezra in, people would inadvertently know what he looked like. They wouldn't know, but they would know. What would that mean for him? For his dedication to the Creed? Did things like that count against him? Had something like this ever happened before?

"Tell me you, at the bare minimum, have functional transport?" Ezra asked after Din had relieved him of his blaster, sounding hopeful. It was so strange hearing his own voice with such an odd, imprecise cadence to it. The Mandalorian had worked for years to improve his Basic so that anyone and everyone would be able to understand him through the coarse modulator, though he still ended up sounding hitchy or curt most of the time.

"How else would I have gotten here?" Din snapped, gesturing the other man forward with the encouragement of his own weapon.

At least now he knew how to get back to the Crest, thank the Maker for his helmet and the tracking protocols he had. Now, observing his previous path of forward motion, he realized with a jolt how much it wound back and forth. He had been walking in circles.

Since when did he lose his sense of direction? Even in unknown territory, he usually had a damn good idea of which end was up. That concerned him.

And on top of everything else, Ezra wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Be quiet." Din muttered for what seemed like the thousandth time. How long had they been walking? Probably his own fault. With how much his head was spinning, he didn't dare deviate from the winding trail he had left. Even if a straight path would have been miles quicker.

Ezra continued to drone, "a toilsome marathon of carnage, I assure-"

"I said, be fucking quiet."

The target huffed out a breath, but obliged Djarin's terse demand for the moment. Din's head was pounding, his already short fuse shrinking with every word out of the talkative man's mouth. Was this the Maker's hysterically ironic way of compensating for how little a solitary Mandalorian would speak? Making a doppelganger that was ceaselessly chatty?

Din talked a lot more these days, between you and the kid. Maker, you. His head swam again and a low, guilty heat throbbed in his belly. You talking to him, the way your mouth moved around your words-

No. No, stop, he told himself sternly, two fingers sliding idly between the gasket and gorget at his throat just so he could breathe a little easier. This planet's air felt thick, like breathing through tar.

"I would not indulge that craving, were I you." Ezra spoke up, the man obviously watching him claw at his neck. "The less exposure you have, the better."

Din wanted to snap at him because honestly how many times do I have to say shut the fuck up-

But then he stopped. Since when did he even do things like breach the seal of his own fucking helmet on an unfamiliar planet?! He flinched, tearing his hand away and hating the low, wry chuckle that issued from the quarry. The other man mused, "It's already too late for me, you know. I imagine I'll have an hour, perhaps two."

"What the hell are you talking about now."

"The dust, my armored associate. It permeates. Sludges the mental processes." Ezra shrugged with only one shoulder. "Among other things."

"How do you know so much about it?" Din gritted his teeth against the buzzing pain in his stomach. "Seems pretty stupid of you to hide out here." Especially if you know the flora is deadly.

"There is naught to do on a freighter slingback aside from read." Ezra's eyes narrowed. "And I could hardly pick and choose which moon my pod decided to give out on, you monosyllabic knuckle-dragger."

"Watch your mouth before I break it." Din snarled.

"Lo and behold, he comprehends! I assumed all you knew how to say was a stagnant variation on the theme of be fucking quiet." Ezra retorted with enraging cheer.

Din's gloves creaked with the tension of his fists and he barely kept from slamming them into his temples. They were almost to the Crest. Almost. Once they got there, he would throw this mouthy nerf herder into the carbonite and…

And what? And turn him over? And inadvertently compromise his whole identity, possibly destroy decades of loyally obeying the Creed?

All the deprivation, the loneliness, the weakness of his own heart...

"Be fucking quiet." The Mandalorian muttered, knowing full well that the other man hadn't said anything. Be fucking quiet. Be fucking quiet quiet quiet just fucking be quiet--

Din ground the heels of his palms against the curve of his helmet at his forehead, praying for some kind of relief.

Carbonite, he reminded himself.

…

Ezra grudgingly held his tongue, which even he had to admit was a rarity. Unlike the other floaters that had approached him before and met their swift demise, this particular bounty hunter was heavily kitted. The gleaming plate he sported didn't seem to hinder his motion in the slightest.

Interesting.

Ezra knew when he had been outplayed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't banking on the other man having a functional ship even before he decided to go peacefully.

The hunter (mentally dubbed Steerforth, he rudely had not introduced himself) obviously had no idea about the pollen, for all his outward preparedness. Clearly Serpentia was not as well known as Ezra had wished.

Regrettable.

He could hope that the bounty hunter hadn't been exposed, he mused. After all, the man was wearing that positively arresting helmet, and his suit seemed of a sturdy (if unfamiliar) weave. Here was an individual that Ezra would have to tread carefully around, if he wished to escape with his life.

His faith waned a bit as he recalled watching the man 'track' him, winding back and forth through the trees like a drunken mule until Ezra had taken pity on him and turned himself in.

The hunter was terse in his speech, likely weary from the chase. Ezra could sympathize, he was weary from running. It had almost been a relief when that last hunter had attacked him and forced him to crash the pod on this moon. Though his relief had quickly turned to dismay when Ezra had done a full turn outside his pod and realized just what was making all the pollen in the air.

Serpentia, Serpent's Tongue. He had never encountered the plant in the proverbial flesh, but once upon a time he had been accidentally doused with the extract when a holding tank had burst while he was on a job site.

His skin crawled as he remembered the torment that followed during his solitary confinement. He had been nigh-certain he would not recover, clawing free of the haze that had gripped him with the barest vestiges of his mental faculties.

This moon's Serpentia population seemed infinitely kinder than the concentrate he had encountered, if only for its soft, creeping approach. It lapped at the base of his brain, dulled the edge of his panic until he was nearly comfortable with the ache that licked hot in his groin.

But thank Kevva for this bounty hunter lumbering through the brush! With a little luck, Ezra would be able to persuade him to accept a few pearls of aurelac in lieu of dragging him back to face that greatly-exaggerated justice.

...

According to the limited information from the Crest's scans, the air on this moon was perfectly safe to breathe.

And if what Mando had said was right, he probably would need the ship to himself for a little while to decontaminate. So you had posted up beside the ramp once he had departed, occasionally wiping the sweat off your brow. The atmosphere was humid and you watched as breezes too delicate for you to even feel nudged the thick pollen in the air this way and that.

The moon was liberally coated with lush vegetation; just finding a place to safely land the Razor Crest had been a Herculean effort. You wondered vaguely if there was a lake or spring nearby that you would be able to cool off in. The ship's fresher was functional, of course, but its water had been sitting in the holding tank for a few cycles now and it smelled rusty.

The pollen covered everything, orange-red substance sticking to your already-damp skin. You grimaced, wondering if maybe you should have put on your suit. But no, the atmosphere was safe. The scans had said so, and you already spent so much of your time in your thick suit…

The sunshine felt wonderful after all the hyperspace travel, like a warm embrace from a friend. You caught yourself wondering what Mando's hug might feel like. Probably uncomfortable, what with all the beskar. You scoffed at your thoughts. You really needed to stop thinking about him like that, he was technically your boss even if he called you his partner. So what if he had passed out on top of you? That had been an infection thing.

It wasn't as if he had stroked your cheek before he dropped, his voice breaking when he called you Senaar...

So what if you had solicited not one, but two Mandalorians during your last stop on Nevarro?

It wasn't as if he noticed anything that you did, aside from when it had inconvenienced him. It wasn't as if you couldn't handle your little infatuation with him, even if it did result in you seeking out Mandos that would give you attention.

You propped your chin up on your hand, your eyes half-focusing on the dust floating in the air. It was nice to just relax for once, though there was a little guilty sensation in your stomach. Because Mando was out there working, while you...were lounging around, soaking up the sunlight.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, but you finally got up with a groan and a stretch that felt heavenly. You would investigate the surrounding area, you decided, maybe you could rustle up something fresh. If you couldn't be active on the hunt for the quarry, you could at least restock the larders.

After what only felt like a few steps, you quickly stumbled across thick vines that bore an unfamiliar, violet-hued fruit. The fruit was the size of your fist, and the skin had slight give to it. Light-colored flowers dotted the vine here and there, their tiny stamens crested with heavy crowns of thick pollen. Clearly you had located one of the many sources of the dust that choked the air.

You picked one of the fruits and propped it up on a flat rock, using your trusty field knife to slice it open. It had orange pulp inside it, and a small hollow in the middle filled with pinkish fluid. The whole fruit reminded you of a sunset. Dimly, you thought that you probably shouldn't be touching this fruit with your bare skin, on the off chance that it might be caustic or toxic. But it looked delicious.

Surely just a little taste wouldn't hurt?

The pinkish fluid was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and sticky. It dribbled down your chin when you tipped the fruit to slurp it up. You laughed at yourself, tugging your tunic to scrub at your face.

Mando will love these.

You weren't sure where the thought came from, but obviously it was true. The idea of Mando being alone, slipping off his helmet to eat...the juice from the fruit glistening on his mouth…

Your breathing had quickened. You carefully harvested more of the round fruit, tucking the ripe produce into the makeshift cradle of your tunic. Once you decided you had enough, you turned on your heel and went to make your way back to the Crest.

...

No.

No no no no no-

Din stared at the partially-ajar ramp on the Crest and he wanted to yell.

"Oh dear." Ezra murmured faintly. "What a predicament." He had been getting quieter and quieter the closer they drew to the ship, so hearing him talk again sent a jolt down Din's spine. "You left your egress open? How careless of you."

"I didn't." Din snarled, wrapping his fingers around the binders on Ezra's wrists. You. The throbbing in his stomach lurched.

Ezra's eyes widened and he abruptly planted his feet. Din hadn't realized just how off-kilter he was, normally something like a shift in weight wouldn't be enough to make him stagger. But he almost toppled, barely getting his balance back in time. "Is there someone else on that ship?" Ezra asked sharply.

"Of course." Din didn't even think to lie. "Partner."

"Would they have wandered? Exposed themselves?" The prospector-thief-quarry continued to quiz him and Din resented it just a little.

"Be quiet," He grunted, tapping at his gauntlet to open the ramp, "and get in the fucking hold."

Ezra abruptly drew himself up to his full height. "I do not believe you actually want me to do that." He intoned with difficulty, his teeth gritted. "Putting myself, yourself and the potential of one more infected person into an enclosed space is a very…" His words faltered. "Oh."

Din whirled, visor traveling up the ramp into the dim hold. And just barely visible at the edge of the ramp, a small pile of what looked like fruit--was that your leg?! He lunged forward, his blaster ready.

"I would not advise you to approach them!" Ezra barked.

"Fuck you!" Din snapped, striding up the ramp to kneel alongside your body. He crushed one of the fruits beneath his knee, lurid pink juice erupting to soak into his suit. The color was high in your cheeks, your body blotchy with flush. Pollen encrusted your neck and shoulders, drifted through your hair; something pink and shiny coated your lips like a strange gloss.

Din caught himself leaning in and jerked back at the urgency in Ezra's voice when the prospector called, "Do they breathe, man?"

"Be quiet!" Djarin roared. Why hadn't he checked that first? What was wrong with him? He shoved his vambrace against your mouth, his chest clenching in relief when your breath fogged the metal. Stars.

"I'm afraid this complicates things quite significantly." Ezra said loudly, fidgeting at the base of the ramp. "I was unaware you had a partner of the...other biological persuasion. Had it just been you and I, two masculine-presenting bipeds, things would have been miles simpler."

"What the hell are you saying now?" Din was getting tired of this shit, tired of listening to the other man talk.

"This plant is...shall we say, heteronormative." Ezra drawled, waving his bound hands in the air to illustrate the cloying pollen. Din cocked his head in confusion. "You know, masculine and feminine? Male and female? Different. Hetero."

Djarin scoffed derisively. "My people don't care about that shit."

"A noble practice to be certain, very forward-thinking."

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian replied.

Ezra soldiered on, "Unfortunately, the plant that infests this planet does indeed differentiate. Fruit for the female, pollen for the male." He added hurriedly, "in the biological sense, of course! I will not make any assumptions about your partner. The fruit is a...a catalyst. Are you familiar with the old-Earth religious writings, the ones that mention the Garden? Or perhaps the Greek pantheon may have been more your style?" When Djarin shook his head, Ezra sighed. "The genus name in Basic is slippin' my mind. But this particular iteration is known as Serpent's Tongue, Serpentia. It is Medusine in nature and it inspires feelings of…" Ezra paused, licking his lips nervously. "Heat."

"Heat." Din repeated blankly, knowing that he must be missing something.

Ezra ducked his head, breaking eye contact. "As in, being in heat." The man clarified after a moment.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm-"

"Excuse me?" Din snarled, running his fingers through the juices that coated his knee. It was thick, sticky like syrup, why was it warm--He bolted to his feet and stalked back down the ramp. Ezra took a step back, and then another, the quarry obviously wary of him. Good. The satisfied feeling took some of the edge off his frustrated panic. "So what the hell is wrong with my partner?" Din grated out.

"Er, to couch it in layman's terms…" Ezra hesitated, clearing his throat. "They are aroused."

Aroused. Aroused. Aroused. "Sexually?" Din hated the way the word came out, all breathy like he was a youngling that had just learned about the wonders of copulation.

Ezra nodded, grimacing. "From the sound of your tone, I would hazard a guess that the two of you have not been intimate."

"Why would we have been?" Din retorted bluntly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, seeming as if he was avoiding looking at you. Good. Mine. Din had no idea where the hell that thought came from. "Oh of course, I was foolish to assume so blatantly." The prospector muttered. "That does complicate your own matters further, however. Were you previously sexually intertwined, this would have been much more simple." He suddenly doubled over at the waist, a loud grunt forced from his mouth and a low exclamation of, "fuck, fuck-"

The curse sent a hot flicker down Din's spine and it took him a second to realize that you had made a noise in reply. You sounded dazed, scared. He whirled on the ramp and knelt again, taking your hand. "Senaar, you coming around?" Your eyes looked...wrong, blinking open slowly; your pupils were blown like you'd been spiced.

You stared up at him for several long seconds before your mouth opened. "Wanted to make lunch." You managed to say. "I don't feel good."

"Well, you don't look so great either." Din said gruffly.

"Bastard." You groaned at him, trying to sit up. "Maker, I feel so hot, I...oh! Oh no, you smushed one." You appeared to have noticed the remains of the sticky fruit currently seeping into his knee. "I wanted you to try it. Tastes...tastes...it's so sweet Mando, s'like candy." You saying his name (even if it wasn't his actual name, shit) was like a lightning bolt to his groin. You dragged your hand over his knee, gathering up the remnants of the fruit and then sliding your fingers into your mouth.

You brought him food. His lungs felt too full and not full enough. Stars, the idea of you feeding him that, smearing it all over his mouth with those pretty little fingers-

No, the helmet. The helmet. He couldn't take off the helmet. The Creed.

He jerked his head up, looking to Ezra. The other man was still doubled over, holding his midsection as best as he could with his hands bound.

A dark, uncharacteristically evil thought wound its way into Din's mind, sweet and smokey like a good ne'tra gal. "Get in the ship." He grunted. Ezra glanced up and Din was a little startled by the level of emotion he displayed. He wasn't used to seeing expressions play out on his own face. The other man seemed wildly uncomfortable and Din found that grounding, for whatever reason.

"I do not dare to." Ezra panted finally. "Just being this close is...immensely troubling. I am not the master of my own body at this moment, Steerforth."

"Is this the target?" You asked softly. Din nodded and he could almost feel your eyes raking over the other man. "What happened? He's hurt."

Shit, he had nearly forgotten. Ezra was still bleeding from his arm. The quarry had obviously forgotten as well, clearly dealing with a much more pressing matter.

You beckoned to the other man and Din had to rein in the knee-jerk reaction to grab his blaster as Ezra reluctantly approached. He had never been territorial about you before, what the hell was the matter with him?

Ezra halted a good five feet away from you, keeping his head down. "I am Ezra. I apologize in advance for my untoward behavior." He muttered, his voice gone so low and gravelly he actually did sound like Din. The Mandalorian's stomach pitched uncertainly. "I am not myself at this point in time."

"What happened to your arm?" Your tone was warm, concerned. Din's fists clenched. "Did Mando do that?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Your compatriot has been nothing if not a complete gentleman." Ezra replied wryly. "I sustained this injury during a previous floater's quarrel."

…

You hummed and you saw Mando stiffen up out of the corner of your eye. What was wrong with him? One second he had been leaning over you, all worry and hand holding. The next, he was barking at the quarry.

And the quarry was hurt. Ezra, Ezra, his slow drawl making your head swim and your chest tingle. Never mind Mando, what was wrong with you? You felt so strange, like you were hyper-fixated.

Maker, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that fruit. "I'm sorry." You apologized to Mando, your lower lip beginning to quiver. "I just wanted to give-"

"Be quiet." He ordered, his voice startlingly gentle. A gloved thumb pressed to your lower lip and you stared up at him, opening your mouth automatically even though you knew he was just wiping the juice away. You were startled when he slid his thumb into your mouth, but you obligingly cleaned the juice from the leather with your tongue. Shouldn't this be strange? But Mando just did it, like it was normal. Maybe it was normal.

Your mind flew back to your sultry encounter on Nevarro, how you had occupied yourself while Mando wrapped up his business with the Guild, and warmth lanced through your stomach as you recalled greedy gloved hands grasping and caressing your bare skin-

"Steerforth, if you are to carry on in that heated demonstration I must plead for the carbonite treatment that you were so hellbent on throwing myself into earlier." Ezra sounded like he was in pain. "I have only endured this once before and it was a torment that threatened my already-tenuous sanity. Have fucking mercy man, I implore-"

"Be quiet." Mando snapped, "we have to treat your arm, right?"

"Fuck." Ezra swore again, the sound writhing through your belly. "Hurry then."

"Get in the ship. I'll turn on the filters."

"Do not leave me alone with them, I implore you!" Ezra cried, that domed helmet finally tilting enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. "I am not the master of my own body, Steerforth."

His eyes were dark, impossibly dark, and frantic as he argued with Mando. His skin seemed tanned or olive through the sun-struck dome of his suit's helmet. Short brown hair was plastered flat to his forehead with sweat, and the lower half of his face was coated in a somewhat unkempt mess of facial scruff. Too long to be five o'clock shadow, but too bedraggled to be dubbed anything else.

Roguish, you decided, wanting to laugh at yourself. He looks roguish. What a ridiculous thought to have! Not obviously dangerous like Mando, but still dangerous. Was that your heartbeat throbbing in your ears? You sighed softly, taking a step towards the other man without meaning to.

Mando's hand was suddenly on your arm. "Hold it. Treatment. We have to treat his wound." He said gruffly.

You nodded. Of course. Who knew what he had been exposed to through the breach in his suit? "I was going to help him walk?"

Mando shook his head. "You get the kit. You've got no gear on. He's contaminated." He reasoned. "Get me the kit and then seal yourself into the cockpit so we can filter the hold." You nodded again and his hand found your cheek, gloved fingers grazing your neck before he jerked back. "S...Sorry." he apologized.

"It's okay." You whispered.

…

Ezra, helmet discarded and suit stripped to the waist, flinched away from Din's touch yet again. "Stop. This is a bad wound. It'll get infected if I do this wrong." Din snapped. He rarely encountered blaster wounds that didn't self-cauterize, even though that tended to come with its own set of problems.

"I do not mean to tear free." Ezra protested. "Blood flow has increased. I am…" He paused, biting his lower lip. "Sensitive. Surely you have a handheld? One of the burners? Just burn it shut man, Kevva, I cannot even endure the graze of your fingers."

"If I give you a burner patch, it'll seal in the infection." Din reasoned, flushing the wound again. "Focus on something else."

"I cannot." Ezra said sharply. "There is only one matter my brain currently wishes to focus on, and it is not the dire straits of my wounded arm."

"Them?" Din asked, keeping his voice low.

Ezra shot him a guilty look from beneath his sweat-matted fringe of brown hair, finally nodding. "It is ludicrous, but I feel as though I can taste them." He confessed. "Gods, I wish I had never landed on this accursed moon. I wish I had never encountered the Serpentia."

"What will happen?" Din did his best to maintain his vocal level as he bandaged the other man's wound.

"Arousal. Sheer, unadulterated arousal. You ache, like the worst fever you've ever had. I've heard it is even more excruciatin' for those of the other human biological persuasion, due to their genitals being internal. Though it is Medusine in nature, so it has a...failsafe, of sorts. You are seized with the primal instinct to mate, conquer, claim. It does not stop until you have buried your...until you have sheathed yourself in an orifice." Ezra was gasping for air. Obviously just talking about it was enough to cause him distress, either that or Djarin was being rougher than he thought. "Steerforth please, I-"

"This will cause them pain?" Din asked slowly.

Ezra nodded jerkily. "I have been told it's like a sickly, stabbing heat. Fingers are not enough to…er, extinguish the flames." His cheeks flushed. "The tongue soothes, but not overlong. Internals require certain length, and...rigidity." Din didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the beskar that covered his upper thighs. "When last I encountered this damned flora, I suffered the effects alone and I felt as if I would go mad."

Tongue. Fingers. Rigidity. Din's mind reeled. "Specifics." He gritted out, his body awash with heat in his armor when Ezra made a pitiful noise.

"Kevva, have mercy on me Steerforth."

"I said. Specifics." Din fisted a glove in the other man's hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up. Ezra moved, albeit reluctantly, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing when he swallowed. "Specifics." Din repeated himself, a little softer this time.

Ezra shuddered all over. "They will seek you out. To be fucked." He said, cringing a bit as if he disliked using the word. "You must open them up with your tongue first, dissolve the Medusine barrier with saliva. That's the failsafe, you see, an individual of that biological persuasion who is suffering cannot be penetrated without tender effort. Ease into it and perhaps they will not loathe you when this madness has run its course-"

"I can't." Din interrupted.

"What?" Ezra gawked at him.

"I can't. T-Tongue. Not allowed. Forbidden." Din felt like he was drunk. "Helmet."

The other man's brow furrowed. "You can, I presume, take off other portions of your plate?"

Din shook his head, wishing that he could explain it better. "Technically yes, but it's frowned upon. Exceptions happen. And under no circumstances can I take the helmet off."

"How in the Fringe have you ever-"

"I...inspire feelings in people." That was probably the most delicate way he could have said I cater exclusively to bipeds with a predator/prey fetish. Din grimaced. "I'm large and imposing. Usually that's...enough. No need for warm up." He said awkwardly. "Armor stays on."

"What a bewildering existence!" Ezra tilted his head in disbelief. "So you have never removed…?"

Din shook his head. "Not in the presence of others. The Creed forbids it."

"Your dedication is admirable, but unfortunately it leaves your partner twisting in the wind." The quarry pointed out. "I would offer my services, but I am an unknown and-"

"Yes." Din gritted out, that dark thought slithering back through his mind.

"Yes?"

"Your services." Din took a deep breath. He didn't bargain with quarry, but this man had his face. He couldn't turn him in without jeopardizing everything he had sworn his life to. "In exchange, when this is...when they no longer require your services, I'll let you go."

Ezra's eyebrows bunched together. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Steerforth."

"I don't want them to be in pain." Din's voice grated in his throat and he watched Ezra's eyes widen in comprehension. "I don't want them to hurt."

"You...this is not just the Serpentia. You have a prior attachment to them."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't have." Djarin muttered dismissively. "Because of the Creed, I...I can't. But you can."

"You can't give them your mouth, certainly, but there are-"

"If it's what makes it possible, you have to do it!" Din interjected sharply. "I don't want them to hurt."

"I need you to comprehend what you're askin' of me!" Ezra shot back, his bound fists clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "They don't know me from Job, and you're all but demanding I violate their trust-"

"I don't want them to hurt!" Din roared, startling himself with his own furious reaction. Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by your staggering descent on the ladder. You looked unwell. Ezra skittered back a few steps, falling on his ass with a muffled swear.

"Mando?" Your voice wavered and you swayed at the ladder. Din lurched forward, tucking you into his arms as you sniffled, "I don't feel so good. I think I'm sick." You were radiating heat that he could feel even through his suit. Your tunic was soaked with sweat.

"Osi'kyr." Din cursed under his breath after he swapped to his infrared and saw just how brilliant your signature was. "Listen to me, alright Senaar?" He murmured, simultaneously loving and hating the way you nodded in a docile manner. "We know what can fix this. But it's not…" he paused, searching for the right term.

"Appropriate." Ezra supplied loudly.

"I feel awful." Your whimper made Din's stomach ache. His cock rubbed against the confines of his compression leggings.

Ignore it.

"I know you do." Din pressed his palm to your forehead. "Listen to me. We can fix this. You trust me, right?" Your nod was immediate and Din barely stifled his groan. "Ezra knows what's wrong. Ezra can help."

"He can help?" You echoed blearily, looking past Din. "Okay. He said something about the fruit before, right? I shouldn't have eaten it. M'sorry. Was it poison?"

"Poison may have been simpler to endure." Ezra muttered. "It is an aphrodisiac. Do not blame yourself. The fruit is visually appealing for a reason, otherwise the plant would not be able to propagate."

…

Aphrodisiac. Your mouth was flooded with that sweet taste at the sound of Ezra's drawling voice, the groan that followed burrowing into your blood.

You had never felt this way before. Your body ached and twisted, arousal pooling uncomfortably in your pelvis. Everything felt like it was trapped, your tunic sticking to your skin with sweat. Aphrodisiac.

"Please pay attention." Ezra sighed. "I understand this is incredibly distracting, but I have a limited window of coherence." He was trembling slightly, still avoiding your eyes. "Your partner has requested I aid you where he cannot. I will not harm you." He said with gravity. "This is a situation which bodes exceptionally poorly and I am...I am truly sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Oh, it's okay. Mando gets me into messes all the time." You brushed off his apology and Ezra choked out a bitter laugh.

"I fear you may change your tune once the pain truly starts." He remarked.

"He says it'll hurt." Mando murmured. "Like stabbing."

You knew your eyes widened with fear because Mando was quick to envelope you in his arms again. He had never been this touchy before. It was...strangely nice. The coolness of his armor felt wonderful on your skin and you moaned in relief. Mando went stiff at your noise, his gloved fingers clutching the nape of your neck. Up until this point, you had just felt some minor throbbing. Distracting, but negligible.

This was different.

...

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fists curled into his suit, knees buckling as a low, wavering cry left your lips. Din jerked at the sound. He had never heard you make that kind of noise before, not even when you had been shot--

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. Was he excited or terrified? "Easy, you're okay, you're okay," he soothed, clumsily brushing the hair back from your face. Who was he even trying to convince?!

"Make your choice expediently, Steerforth. Am I to be thrown in carbonite or put to work?" Ezra queried through gritted teeth.

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you." Din said to you, ignoring the other man for the moment. "I won't let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me for right now, alright? We can fix this."

Your grip on him tightened even further. "I don't like how this feels." You whispered.

Din closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off his own self-loathing, pressing your cheek against his breastplate. "I know, Senaar. I'll be right here with you. I just...can't give you what you'll need." He stuttered, offering on a desperate whim, "I-I can hold you, if you want." You nodded frantically into his armor.

"If you have a...a blanket. A sheet. Something for the floor, we are going to make a mess and I am uncertain if we will be able to protect your partner's modesty." Ezra muttered, his bound hands resting surreptitiously over his groin. "They may be more enthusiastic than one would anticipate."

Din patted your elbow, trying to gentle his voice. "Go get your pillow."

"O-Okay." You gulped.

Din tore into one of his many lockers once you released him, the armored man frantically digging around for his extra bedding. Ezra staggered to his feet, moving in close to Din. So that you wouldn't hear him speak, no doubt.

"There is still time for you to freeze me, Steerforth. I am not a man without morality, tattered though it may be." He murmured, and Din noticed that his weary brown eyes were surrounded by the same deep lines and cracks that Djarin's own face sported. The Mandalorian hadn't ever paid much mind to just how many expressions he still made beneath the helmet, probably because he knew no one would see them.

Din grabbed the other man's shoulder, searching those eyes. Ezra stared at his impenetrable visor, probably confused by his silence. "I need your help." Din rasped seriously. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, but he could live with the uneasy truce if it would…if it meant that he could…

Stars, this was all so damn wrong.

Ezra finally nodded. "I will do my best to assist with the...emotional aftermath. This is not your fault, or theirs. This is merely an unfortunate side effect of a hazardous occupation."

"Thank you."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, but other than that he gave no indication of his surprise. Din elbowed him to the side, unfolding the thick blanket and spreading it out carefully on the floor of the hold.

…

This was certainly an odd predicament.

Ezra could not say he had ever been in such a charged scenario, despite his checkered history. His jaw worked thoughtfully as he watched the armored man devote an obscene amount of care to smoothing the wrinkles out of his blanket.

Arousal swirled around him like the thick pollen outside, but it was tempered by the terrible memory of that singular past experience where he had rubbed himself bloody on the inside of his suit. He knew he was worse off than Steerforth. No, what had you called him? Mando.

Curious.

A Creed that prevented the devout from showing the world their face.

Curious. And familiar, somehow. Ezra spooled his mind back, trying to recall why it was familiar. He couldn't focus however, his own breathing becoming too distracting.

Mando hadn't gotten nearly as much of the pollen as him. The other man seemed unbearably, impossibly calm in the light of what was about to occur. Maybe it was an illusion afforded by that unreadable helm, or brought about by his lack of prior experience.

Ezra was wildly jealous all the same. "What is their name?" He asked softly.

Mando fixed him with a look and Kevva, that helmet was indeed imposing. "I call them Senaar. It...it means bird." He sounded reluctant, like he didn't even want to give up that much. "Names are sacred in the Creed. I couldn't give them mine so they didn't give me theirs, but I had to call them something."

"No names in the Creed, either?" Ezra asked incredulously.

The armored man shook his head. "To outsiders we are all Mando. To us, we are Mando'ade. This is the Way."

"A veritable legion of nameless, featureless warriors." Ezra muttered, mainly to himself. He rattled his restraints after a moment. "Am I to remain bound during this frotfest, Steerforth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to give you free range. Be grateful I didn't secure them behind your back instead." Mando snarked.

"I will not harm your little bird." Ezra protested.

"I know." Mando leaned in slightly, broad shoulders made even more intimidating by the blue-steel pauldrons that graced them. "I would kill you before you got the chance."

Oh, such confidence! Ezra wished he was in his right mind, he would obliterate this smug cretin--

His breath caught in his throat as you returned from your excursion. Gods, he had nearly forgotten what he was being called to do. He warred with the obscene urge that dragged his gaze to the crux of your thighs. "A divine sight." He murmured, not lying for once. This entire day had been remarkably truthful.

You actually gave him a ribald wink, and that eased his conscience slightly. Perhaps you were not the unsullied, blushing virgin he had feared you might be. Obviously you had used the time you took to grab your pillow wisely, maybe even given yourself a bit of a pep talk.

"Have you done this before?" Ezra asked, half-joking. He heard Mando audibly gulp in that damn bucket when you nodded, a pained smile curving your lips. "Not under the effects of such altering substances, I pray?"

"Nah, nothing like that." You replied, shaking your head. "It was back on Nevarro, I-"

"Nevarro?" Mando hissed. "You disappeared on me for hours. That's what you were up to?!"

You shrugged weakly. "It doesn't really matter but...there were two Mandalorians, and I wanted, um, something that seemed familiar, I guess." You admitted, your tone remarkably cool for the subject matter.

Ezra hid his grin. He was hardly immune to the allure of saucy gossip, and there was nothing quite like gossip that had no particular bearing on him. "Two?!" The armored man's voice squeaked even through the thick modulation and Ezra burst out laughing, the binders knocking his jaw when he tried to stifle his mirth.

"I meant more whether you had engaged in copulation in general, but I suppose that would have been a pertinent question as well." He mused once he got himself under control, the low buzz in his stomach blossoming into an excited thrum. "How fortunate that you would be so generous when it comes to your partners, little bird."

"What do you mean, familiar?" Mando carried on over him, obviously agitated by the fresh knowledge that his partner may or may not have some...tendencies. Ezra almost wanted to laugh again; you were nothing if not painfully transparent. Seeking out others like the armored man to have their way with you? Clearly you harbored some sort of affection, kept secret and safe by the walls that humans build around themselves.

But Serpentia had a funny way of sliding that dastardly pink slick through all defenses, leaving the body raw and exposed.

"I mean familiar." You replied, your pillow like a shield between yourself and Mando. Ezra settled back to watch the show, well aware that his smirk was probably insufferable. "I have needs, you know." You continued primly.

Mando's fists clenched on his thighs before he pointedly flattened them back out, fingers dragging over the plates. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I'm sorry." He mumbled, patting his leg.

You wavered again and nearly fell. The armored man caught you, settling you down with a cautious tenderness that fired a thrower shot of arousal directly into Ezra's gut. He had always been a weak fool for chivalry, though he was able to display precious little of it in his own life. Oh, this was the best kind of story.

...

Your face burned with embarrassment; why had you told him about your rendezvous with two other members of his Creed? It was like the words just fell out of your mouth, like your brain itself was against you.

You could still remember the way the larger one had pressed his forehead to your own and then encouraged you down his chest to his groin, the way his helmet had tipped back--

A new flood of warmth swept into your cunt and you bit down on your hand to stifle your noise at the pain that followed. Mando paused, then laid your pillow between his open legs. "Lay down on your back." He muttered, patting his leg again. "This way you can see me. I'll be right here."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize, please." Mando cut you off. "Once this is over, once everything is...over, I...listen, we'll operate as a sealed unit. This maneuver is scrubbed from the start. I never found the quarry. Nothing that we say or do here will ever be mentioned again. Understood?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He was giving you an out. Or himself, you were uncertain. You nodded slowly and his shoulders drooped a little, but whether he was relieved or disappointed…

Well, some secrets were meant to stay that way.

Ezra nodded his own agreement. "It is best to have certain protocol already in place when engaging in uncharted waters." He muttered. "Decidedly militant, but I must surmise your Creed taught you that."

"This is the Way." Mando said firmly.

"If we are operating under burner infantry orders, then I must voice my trepidation about this engagement," Ezra confessed to you. "I have endured this crisis once before and it was not a pleasant experience. I do not envy the pain I am certain you feel at this moment, but I also know that you are in a...compromised and sensitive position. I...if any advance is unwanted, I trust you will inform me. And if I do not respond, if I am too far gone, please have your associate rescind my invitation." He gestured at Mando with his bound hands.

"Wh-What are you going to do to me?" You asked, your voice high in your ears even as you let Mando maneuver you down to the blanket.

"I am going to do for you what your companion cannot, little bird." Ezra's tongue dampened his lips nervously. "And only that, if I understand the situation correctly."

"What he…" you trailed off as a thought occurred to you. Ezra hummed quietly as if to confirm and the sound reverberated through your core, making you whine and squirm restlessly. "Oh, what, stars, you mean-"

"My mouth, little bird." He had a tiny section of blond hair on the right side of his head, the tuft residing rakishly just at his hairline. You hadn't noticed until now, but the whimsical little patch seemed to soften his stern features. "You will need the saliva, regrettably. I am certain that the idea of the mouth of a lowly aurelac harvester on you is a repulsive one, but it is the only way to get the proverbial ball rolling."

"Wait, you have to eat me out?" You asked in confusion, trying to get back up. "Hang on, I should shower, I'll-" Agony raked down your spine and you spasmed, a breathy sound of pain forcing itself past your lips.

Ezra's incredulous chuckle soothed the sensation back down to a manageable level. "What an unexpected offer, little bird! I cannot recall the last time someone bathed specifically for me. You will wholly ensnare me if you continue such considerate behavior."

…

Din's body felt like it was on fire in his armor.

You had gone looking for people like him.

You had gone looking for Mandos because you wanted familiarity. The idea of you sussing out more of his brothers or sisters because you had needs-

Din wasn't sure if he would survive this particular encounter. He was gripping his cuisses so tightly that the leather of his gloves burned against his fingertips. Mandalorians weren't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the Creed could make things...more difficult than they needed to be for a variety of species.

Ezra, despite his hands being bound, was remarkably capable. The man had coached you through the pain when you had tried to move, his voice obviously helping you somehow. Djarin wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful. Maybe both.

The fact that this was causing you to suffer had him loathing how stiff his cock was in his compression leggings, even though from what he had gathered he couldn't actually help that particular reaction.

"I must beg your assistance in disrobing." Ezra was saying softly, tugging at the overly-knotted waistband of your loose pants. "Please, little bird."

"Right, yeah, of course." You mumbled and Djarin could hear the pain in your voice, could feel the twitchy little flinches as you tried to follow Ezra's directions.

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian moved his hands up until they rested on your shoulders. You exhaled a breathy little moan, nuzzling your cheek against his glove in what he had to assume was thanks.

"Better." You gasped, seeming more sure as you struggled to undo the sash at your waist.

"Well done, Steerforth." Ezra praised, causing something warm and wet to pour into Din's abdomen. The armored man's breathing stuttered, was this what Ezra had been feeling the entire time they had been walking? Stars, how had he even managed-

His cock lurched against the tight hold of his leggings, precome dampening his stomach. Without meaning to, Din's fingers tightened on your shoulders and he grunted quietly.

Your eyes shot up, locking with his visor. He knew you couldn't actually see him, but at that moment he felt exposed. "You alright?" You asked quietly, your breath hiccuping when Ezra brushed the stubble of his jaw against your naked thigh. Din ached to do that himself, Maker he wished-

"I'm fine." He choked, like he wasn't roasting alive from the double-edged heat of artificial arousal and jealousy. His left hand slid down, resting at the hollow of your throat. It soothed his ego a little to see that your eyes were still on him, despite what the quarry was about to do.

Ezra, he reminded himself. This man wasn't prey anymore, for all that he was keeping the binders on. Din at least needed that level of control. He needed the stability.

That recurrent devious thought surged forward again, dark and heady. Utilizing Ezra, he could indulge vicariously in the hazy desires he had fought for cycles. The wish to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you cried, like in the raunchy imagecasts he picked up on rare occasion. Putting his bare hands on you, stars-

Din Djarin was a man of extreme self-control. So far, he hadn't overstepped or shamed the Creed, unless you counted the time he was loaded out of his mind with bacteria-laden quills. He hadn't realized just how many of them were embedded in his back until his vision started getting blurry as he was standing over the nexu's dead body. Served him right for letting the feline get the drop on him before he put his backplate on.

You had been so worried when he returned. You were patched into his coms so you obviously heard the struggle he had dispatching the creature. Heard how ragged his breath got and how hard he had to actually fight.

Din vaguely remembered flopping down on his belly with you hovering over him, pliers in one hand and bacta shot already buried in the meat of his shoulder. Stars, it was great to have a partner sometimes. If he had come back to just the kid like that, he'd probably be dead from an infection. You didn't even make him take off his suit, you just worked around it.

You ended up removing thirty-seven quills of various lengths, most of them bearing nasty hooked barbs. The pain had hit different because of the infection, leaving Djarin trembling boneless and silent on the floor of the hold while you wriggled quills out of his back. He had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable, beskar be damned.

"It's alright. I'm glad you made it back." You had said calmly. "I'm not letting you go alone next time, though."

"Thank you, Senaar…"

Din's face flushed when he recalled how badly his voice had cracked when saying the name he called you by, less speech and more a plaintive cry. The way his glove had slipped over the skin of your cheek, and how he had longed to remove that glove...

Maker, he sullied the Creed with his inability to reconcile over lack of touch. The hunger for skin-to-skin contact that reared its ugly head every time you were out of your heavy exosuit and durasteel served as a painful reminder, one much more poignant than the simple weight of his helm, that he was a Mandalorian.

But this doppelganger loophole was a gift to be thoroughly exploited and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity.

Ezra buried his face between your legs and Din felt the way your entire body coiled up in anticipation, another trembling cry leaving your lips and your hands twisting frantically into the blanket beneath you. "Mando-!"

His name, his name, you were saying his name even with another man's mouth giving you pleasure. Djarin couldn't help the satisfied little growl that left his lips and made its way through his modulator. He heard Ezra chuckle, the other man pausing to shoot him a sly wink over the length of your body. Din nearly laughed.

"Ezra," He said instead, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Make them cry."

He stopped caring about how wrong it was.

…

You gasped at Mando's words, already inches from bursting into tears. Ezra's mouth was slowly coaxing you open, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw rubbing your thighs. Every pass of his tongue, every gentle press and suckle sought to untangle the knotted ball of heat in your belly, but you were certain you would lose your mind before you managed to disperse the agonizing feeling.

You were too full, almost too aroused to handle Ezra's mouth on your cunt but you were positive if he stopped licking at you, you would die. Heat felt like it was sloshing in your belly, there was so much of it...

Ezra placed a series of delicate kisses on your clit, each one lighter than the last. His hands, still secure in their binders, clutched your right thigh for purchase when he pulled back to gulp air. His expression was dazed, eyes managing to focus on the armored man that loomed over you after several long seconds. "Will you not indulge, Steerforth?" He sounded like he was almost begging Mando, voicing what you couldn't bring yourself to say. "They ask for you, how can you sit there so damned impassive?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you heard Mando exhale raggedly, the bounty hunter muttering, "M' not impassive. There's nothing I-"

"Touch them, for fuck's sake!" Ezra cried, pointedly rattling his cuffs. "I cannot do both. We must work together!"

The Mandalorian lurched suddenly up onto his knees, then sprawled over your body, slamming one hand down to support his weight before wrapping his fingers in the neck of Ezra's tattered thermal shirt. "You don't call the shots here, quarry." He snarled in That Voice, the one that he reserved for his bounties.

Your hands crept up to his hips, hyper aware of the sweet taste in your mouth and how good this would feel.

…

Ezra stared at the pitch-black visor inches from his nose. Felt the strength in the gloved hand that threatened to do much more than stretch his shirt.

The prospector took a mental inventory of his body at this juncture, a bit surprised and entertained to find that he was thoroughly invested in this new direction the encounter had taken. Mando was no doubt glaring at him from the safety of that impregnable helm, the other man's hackles obviously raised by the jab from the prospector.

It mattered very little at this point in time, however, as Ezra heard a zipper fly open. Mando flinched so hard Ezra felt it in his back, and the sound you made was enough to get the devil to start sweating. "Seems that you may be outnumbered, Steerforth."

"Target rich--environment-" The armored man snarled. "Senaar, y-your--mouth, fuck-"

He stuttered. He stuttered. Ezra latched onto that weakness with a filthy grin, easily twisting out of the other man's grip to duck his head back down and taste you. Mando's other hand hit the blanket as you undulated your hips up to meet Ezra's mouth. Ezra could only imagine the noises you were making around the other man's cock. He knew you were making them by the way Mando's arms quivered. And wasn't that a sight, a man in full armor rendered helpless by the power of a warm, eager mouth on his cock.

"Watch me now, Steerforth." Ezra crooned, tilting his face up to make presumed eye contact. "This is how you make them weep with pleasure." He was sure that his chin was dripping pink at this point and he knew, even without seeing the other man's face, that Mando was barely hanging on. He had to salute the armored man's dedication. A less devout individual would have given out before they made it to the floor.

The Medusine barrier that the Serpentia formed was slowly weakening under the gentle assault of his mouth, Ezra was pleased to notice. Of course, he wasn't exactly rushing, simply going at a steady pace to keep your pain to a bare minimum. You had begun to leak around the barrier, your arousal even warmer than he had expected. Ezra couldn't tell whether it was because he was under the effects of the pollen or whether it was reality that you tasted immaculate, but he reasoned that it didn't particularly matter.

He was hungry enough to cope with either happenstance.

"Little bird, fuck my face, won't you?" He requested sweetly, chuckling at your enthusiastic response. "Grind yourself to completion on my tongue, break the barrier so that your associate can sheathe himself balls deep in this delectable pussy and give you respite."

...

"Fuck." Din rasped, his eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet. The way that Ezra spoke was like fucking music, the man wrapping filthy words in flowery, incomprehensible syntax.

The Mandalorian's fingers tangled resolutely in the blanket, the armored man panting as you urged his aching dick even further down your throat. Your hands grappled with his thighs, shoving them wider and then taking two hungry handfuls of his rear to encourage him.

"Senaar-" he started to warn you off, but stopped dead when you moaned around him. Stars, he wondered how you could even breathe--

You pulled back, coughing and gasping. "You're doing so well, little bird." Ezra murmured from between your legs. Your only reply was to take Din's cock back into your mouth and oh fuck you weren't stopping-

Your hand found Djarin's in the blankets and you tugged on it, forcing him to try and figure out how to redistribute his weight so you could have the appendage. He managed it of course, he was a fucking Mandalorian after all, but there was a moment where he nearly lost his balance.

You guided his hand to your neck and Din couldn't fight back the groan he let out when he felt his cock bulging through your throat. Fuck, no one had ever been able to take this much of him into their mouth before, halfway was usually the stopping point.

Djarin grunted and tilted his head down to watch you struggle, finally wrapping a hand around his cock and easing it back out of your mouth. Strands of saliva connected the engorged head of his dick to your lips. Din sighed stupidly at the sight, fisting his dick and coating his glove with your spit. "You're good at this, Senaar." He said gruffly, knowing that it wasn't really praise, not like how Ezra said it. But words had never been his forte.

"Keep speaking to them Steerforth, they leak at every word out of your mouth." Ezra encouraged from between your legs. "That's right little bird, just a bit more…"

Din was startled, to say the least. You liked when he talked? "I…" he hesitated, then his brow furrowed. "Can't wait to fuck you, Senaar." You whimpered, your hips shuddering. "Fuck you until you don't remember your own fucking name." Din growled. "Breed you like a good Mando should, pump you full of my come just like my Creed-siblings did, right?"

You nodded against his thigh, your sweat seeping through his flight suit to meet his own liberal perspiration. He was so hot, his armor had never been this hot--

"Kevva, that's a kink I didn't anticipate." Ezra panted, pink slick smeared all over his nose and chin. "They certainly like it though, if I understand correctly."

Din could smell you, smell the sweet scent of that fruit mixed with your own arousal. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ezra's neck and he nearly headbutted him on reflex, barely reining the power back in time. Ezra seemed confused at first, the other man obviously dazed with heat and just sort of allowing Djarin to shove his face against his helmet.

…

The helm was so cool, Ezra couldn't restrain a relieved sigh when he made contact. Mando appeared to be rubbing your essence all over his helmet, utilizing Ezra's face as a paintbrush. Unorthodox, but effective.

"Oh," Ezra realized, "you've got some sort of olfactory sensors in there, don't you. You lewd creature you!" He teased breathlessly. "If you think they smell sumptuous, I regret to inform you that their taste utterly puts that to shame." Words were heavy in his mouth, the prospector having to work harder and harder to put sentences together. It wouldn't be long before his senses wholly abandoned him, he was certain. "Release me, Steerforth, I must…I must carry out my end of the bargain." He groaned, struggling free. "We are almost at their climax."

Mando was nearly vibrating with anticipation, gloved fingers clawing at Ezra's hair. "Careful," was all the armored man said hoarsely.

Ezra nodded, once again touched by the bounty hunter's surprising display of consideration for his partner. "When the barrier breaks, they will need your cock immediately, Steerforth. I will...not be coherent for much longer." He mumbled against your cunt, giving up on speech after Mando nodded.

With one last sweep of his tongue, the barrier dissolved. You sobbed out, your voice breaking as you writhed beneath your large companion and bucked your hips up against Ezra's eager mouth. Slick fairly poured out of you, leaking down your thighs and soaking the blanket beneath you.

Ezra didn't remember wriggling his bound hands beneath your rear, simply returning to his senses with your legs over his shoulders and his lungs burning for air but you tasted so good, he felt raw with hunger.

Mando's gloved hand covered nearly the entirety of his face, easing him back from his feast. Ezra watched the other man's chest heave in a daze until he suddenly remembered what he was doing. "I apologize, I...I am too far gone." He murmured in contrition, lowering your hips back to the floor.

"Ask nicely to fuck their mouth." Mando ordered, his blunt words digging into Ezra's groin. "You said it hurt you last time because you were alone. You helped them not to hurt. If they don't want to let you to fuck their mouth though, I'll…" he hesitated, "I'll figure something else out. Nobody has to hurt."

"'Something else'?" Ezra repeated, stunned. What on earth could this armored man possibly be offering? Those gloves were remarkably soft, the leather worn smooth from a lifetime of use, no doubt- "Oh."

…

The pain had eased, only to be replaced by a searing emptiness. You squirmed beneath Mando, tangentially aware that he was engaged in a discussion with Ezra. Your hand flew to your pussy, the drenched area making an embarrassingly loud noise when you thrust two fingers into yourself in an effort to quell the ache.

"Maker, please, please, Mando!" you begged, barely aware of what you were saying. The heat concentrated in your pelvis was burning you alive, desperate tears pouring down your face.

Mando stood to his full height, towering over you, just watching you quiver while you pleaded deliriously. He fairly ambled around your body, moving until he stood between your spread legs. His boot shoved your ankle, opening you even further, exposing every inch of you and the mess that covered the blanket under you. "Senaar." The low burr of modulation made you rock your hips up, whimpering and nodding when he stroked his cock like he was showing off.

Somewhere, deep in your soul, you prayed that he liked what he saw even without the strange pollen instigating.

He knelt, gloved fingers curling beneath your chin to pull your eyes up from his thick, perfect cock and the puddle of precome it was currently weeping onto your pubic mound. His touch sent flickering trails of electricity through your body, and you could barely focus on what he was asking.

"Ezra...mouth?"

You nodded rapidly, making Mando bark out what could have been a laugh. He cupped your jaw again, and then his hand stroked your hair in a way that was almost tender.

"I'll make you feel better." He promised. Ezra was a mess, he looked like you felt. The quarry simply let Mando shove him down onto his knees, his eyes half-lidded. "Undo your suit." Mando ordered and Ezra shakily attempted to obey. He was having a difficult time with his hands still in the binders so you reached out, batting his hands away impatiently to unzip the lower portion of his exosuit.

His thermal leggings were threadbare like his shirt, the waffle-weave fabric soaked through. His cock visibly twitched when you exhaled sharply. "Do not tease me, little bird, I feel as if I am on death's doorstep." The man pleaded through his teeth, "I am raw and agony gnaws at my skin; please take me in your mouth."

"I have to get your pants off." You tried to explain, fumbling with the article of clothing. The noise of despair he made had you frantically clawing at the pants, finally dragging them down low enough that his cock was freed. It slapped against his belly and he moaned, bound hands digging helplessly into your hair.

"May I please have your mouth?" He requested raggedly. "I will not take it if you do not give it freely but please, little bird."

After he had worked so hard to get you to come? You were nodding hurriedly before he finished speaking, and his deep, drawn-out groan of relief was like music to your ears when you swallowed him down.

…

You were radiating warmth, your hips twitching and shifting restlessly even as you tried to get Ezra's dick out of his suit. Din had to hand it to the other man, he did ask nicely.

But there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Mainly, your neglected cunt that was currently leaking all over the underside of his cock. Djarin took a steadying breath, and then slowly sank himself into your waiting heat.

Your cry of relief was fucking primal, a hungry, feral snarl that slithered hot and seething in his stomach under the beskar plate. Din was wholly, entirely lost, finding himself mentally shattered at the first stroke into your body. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips and then your legs fell open, like you didn't have the strength to hold them up.

Shit, he knew he should say something, he knew he should be reluctant about this, but it was like every cell of his body needed you to fucking survive.

Maybe he always had.

Din bared his teeth and growled back at you, his attention divided between watching you eagerly suck Ezra's cock and watching the way his own dick split you open. His passage was eased by the strange pink fluid that continued to ooze out of you, stars it was so hot-

Ezra's fingers tangled in your hair after a moment, the prospector cradling your head to his groin in a manner that could have almost been described as gentle.

"Is this how my Creed-siblings f-ucked you, Senaar?" Din's voice grated in his chest, the armored man barely aware of the heated words tumbling out of his mouth. "Filling you, claiming you, fucking your throat and pussy?"

"Kevva." Ezra breathed. "Your peculiar voice working in tandem with your cock appears to be the thing that turns them into a voracious harlot. I do not know if I have ever-" His sentence broke momentarily, "oh, fuck, very well little bird, take the whole of it then." He grunted, raking his fingers through your hair as you deepthroated him. "You are absolutely magnificent at that, you know." The other man praised shakily.

Your cunt fluttered around Djarin's cock and he felt your arousal soak through his suit, hot fluid sliding down to coat his balls. "Stars, did you just come?" He groaned, unable to stop the filthy noise he made when you whined around Ezra's dick and nodded as best as you could. His fingers gripped your thigh, digging into the skin as he began to rut against you. The Mandalorian threw his head back, panting, "Feel so fucking--good around me, fuck, Senaar, so good-"

…

You felt like you were falling apart again and again. The taste, the sensations, the curling knot of heat in your belly that released inch by inch. Mando's hand on your thigh and Ezra's grip on your head were the things that allowed you to hold on to your sanity, but only just.

Mando was conquering you utterly, his dick driving into you with enough force that you knew you would be aching later, but in the moment you never wanted him to stop. You had craved him, wished for him for so long, to finally have him was total bliss.

And Ezra, Ezra, his silky voice caressing your body as his bound hands carded through your hair. His cock choked you again and again and every time you had to pull back off of him for breath he praised you, talked about how good you were, how no one had ever taken him as deep as you…

You were in heaven.

Ezra abruptly retreated, his cock smearing more precome across your lips. "If you continue on in this manner I will be undone, little bird." He muttered. "Your one-sided assault, while inescapably delicious, is rendering me wholly base. You wish for me to spill my seed on your face?" His hips twitched. "Or shall I fuck my come down your throat, request that you swallow every drop?"

"Fuck it into them." Mando rasped before you could say anything in reply, a gloved hand grabbing your chin. "Fuck your load i-into that sweet little mouth of theirs. Give them what they fucking need, quarry." He demanded, and you nearly came again from how unhinged he sounded.

"Well, little bird?" Ezra asked softly, his eyes dark with want. "Shall I take my pleasure from your lewd little mouth and let your beautiful throat milk me dry?"

"Please!" You begged, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to encourage him.

Ezra sighed blissfully at the sight, lacing his fingers through your hair and encouraging you to take his cock until your nose rested against his groin. "Fuc-king gods, you are positively celestial." He groaned, "Relegating yourself to a singular partner would be doing you a disservice, little bird. I highly encourage you to weaponize your talents in whatever field you wish."

Come flooded your mouth, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, your lungs burning for air and you dimly heard Mando snarl, dropping his helm to rest on your sternum. The metal was blessedly cool even through your tunic, helping to anchor you to reality.

"Fucking touch me, please." Mando's voice shook even with the modulator, his words buzzing through your body. "Senaar please, fuck, pl-please, touch me, fucking--"

Your palms crashed into his shoulders, hips bucking upwards to meet his next thrust and you came again. Mando made a noise that you could only liken to a roar, the armored man grappling at your hips and grinding himself against your dripping cunt.

"Senaar, Senaar, Senaar--" The name he had given you punctuated every thrust, his rasping tone making your belly drop out. You weren't sure if you would ever stop coming, grasping blindly at Mando and Ezra while your cunt gripped down on Mando's cock.

…

If Ezra still had any doubts about being a blatant proxy for the armored man, that was obliterated in his post-orgasm daze.

A gloved hand slid to the back of his neck and tugged him down to your mouth. Ezra went clumsily but willingly, the prospector humming when he tasted himself and the cloying sweetness of the Serpentia on your tongue. You sobbed against his lips and Ezra soothed you with his mouth, accepting all of your hungry whimpers and whines as he stroked your hair back off your forehead.

"Little bird, little bird, you will want for nothing with this individual pummeling you so mercilessly." He breathed, relishing the soft cry that quivered against the skin of his neck. "I imagine you can feel every inch of that prodigious girth, burning like unquenchable quicksilver, threatening to breach your very womb." He moved his bound hands down, resting them on your stomach. "Steerforth, I trust you are punishin' their cervix with every thrust?" He queried, chuckling darkly when Mando just snarled in reply.

You threw your head back, hands fisted in the fabric between Mando's pauldrons and gorget. "Mando-!" You pleaded, "fuck!"

Mando's hands dug beneath the small of your back and he canted your hips upwards, sheathing his cock in the cradle of your body over and over. Ezra envied the armored man's stamina, grunting when he felt his member trying to rise again. Whether he could blame the pollen for that, he was unsure, but the lovely company certainly did nothing to dissuade his arousal. Watching this large, almost knightly figure rail into you, your face still a mess of tears from when Ezra had fucked your mouth…

Kevva, he could not recall a time where he had been so content to simply play voyeur, pressing the occasional kiss to your lips at Mando's behest. "Such tenderness, what a dichotomous sensation for you," the prospector mused, "the contrast between armor and flesh." His mouth brushed against your ear when he continued, "However, I believe you're beginning to realize that there is an untapped wellspring of man beneath all that metal, am I correct little bird?"

...

You squeezed your eyes shut and Din's hand reached up, the bounty hunter unable to keep from cradling your cheek. "I always knew." You said, your voice barely audible. "I-I always...I always-"

"Be quiet." Din grunted. "Y-You...don't have to say it." His heart slamming in his chest had nothing to do with his current exertion. You knew. Shame reached him dimly through the haze of arousal. All the times he ached to touch you, all the times he battled with himself over his desire for contact…

Your hand gripped the back of his helmet and he flinched sharply. He hadn't noticed you move and you could pull his helmet off, shit, he was so stupid for doing this! His eyes flew to yours, even though he knew you couldn't see through his visor.

After a moment of him fighting back his panic, you just shook your head. "S-Sealed unit, ri-ght?" You asked, your words hitching with his thrusts. Djarin nodded warily. Your eyes half-lidded and you knocked your forehead into his helmet, the gesture unmistakable to a Mandalorian.

A kiss.

Was his heart breaking, or just fucking giving out under the assault of this insane pollen? Was he overloaded? Was this all just some wild hallucination?

Din frantically shoved his helmet against your face, pinning your head back to the pillow. Shit, he needed to be careful, you didn't have armor. "Senaar, I--" Basic had always been so damn heavy on his tongue. Mando'a flowed, but it was secret. Sacred. Djarin hesitated and you reached up again, cradling the indents on his helmet.

"Always. Even with this." You whispered.

His brain had short-circuited. The roaring in his ears was deafening and he knew he was making some kind of ugly, wounded noise, but he couldn't actually do anything about it.

Always. Always.

His heart must have blown, he reasoned desperately. That was the only explanation for what he was feeling right now.

…

The sound that Mando made after you assured him was heartwrenching, a guttural sob that seemed like a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He clawed at the blanket beneath you, gasping for breath as he all but broke you in half, his dick ripping yet another orgasm from your hungry cunt.

You were lightheaded from his prolonged fucking, your pussy in spasm around his thick cock, but you refused to give out yet. "Did you feel me come, Mando?" You whimpered against the side of his helmet, wringing more feral noises out of him. "Is it good?"

"Fuck, incredible, s-so--" Mando gripped your thigh, hitching it up over his hip and then dragging his fingers hungrily through the pink slick that had pooled in the crease of your hip. "Never want to leave, fuck, m'sorry, I know I'm t-taking--forever-"

"Only a fool apologizes for his length in the bedroom." Ezra remarked dryly, dipping down to kiss you when you laughed. "How do you fare, little bird?"

"So good." You sighed, feeling half-drunk on your orgasm high. The knot in your belly had finally gone slack, leaving you weak and trembling beneath Mando as he chased his own completion. You hummed and Ezra rumbled back, his touch remarkably careful when he cupped your chin.

"You have done so well." Ezra murmured. "Serpentia is no simple storm to weather, yet you have endured." Mando wordlessly bumped his helmet against Ezra's temple, the metal rubbing over the blond tuft of hair the quarry sported. "You are most welcome, Steerforth." Ezra chuckled. "One is glad to be of service, but please. You threatened to fill them, didn't you?"

Mando's hips faltered in their rhythm and the armored man finally came with a shattered moan of relief. Stars, you weren't sure if you had the Serpentia to blame for the sheer volume that he came; you could feel it frothing out of you around his cock as he continued to shudder and writhe through his orgasm.

"Holy shit, Mando." You said incredulously, unable to fight back the urge to slip a hand down between your bodies. "You told me Mandalorians were rare."

"We--are." Mando panted raggedly, his cock still twitching inside you.

"If you come like this, how?" You asked, your combined fluids soaking your questing fingers. Mando just stared at you for a moment, shoulders heaving while he struggled to catch his breath.

And then he started laughing, which was...not nearly as terrifying as you had expected, honestly. "Stars, you--" He wheezed, his helm thudding gently against your forehead. "Fuck you, Senaar." You could hear him grinning, his voice still warm with laughter.

"Odd method of displaying affection. I take it your Creed is of a fraternitous bent?" Ezra commented, a quiet noise of surprise escaping him when you tugged him down for a kiss.

"Thank you." You mumbled drowsily into his mouth.

"Hardly. I ought to thank you. When last I endured the Serpent's grasp, I was incarcerated and driven to gratify myself to ribbons on the inside of my gear." Ezra informed you, his tone nonchalant. "This experience was a rare moment of hedonistic bliss in my life. Believe me when I say I shall cherish it."

He straightened up before you could say anything in reply, extending his bound wrists to Mando.

"Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

Mando ignored him for another moment, stroking your forehead tenderly. He appeared to have noticed your weariness, because he sounded softer when he spoke. "Sleep, Senaar. It's over."

…

"I'll cut you loose on Sorgan."

Ezra swiveled in the co-pilot chair, knowing that his expression must border on the befuddled. When the armored man had left you to sleep, hauled Ezra into the cockpit and secured his binders to the chair, the prospector had assumed that whatever agreement they struck previously was rendered null and void. "I would be...wholeheartedly grateful to you, Steerforth." He breathed.

"I never found you. Your pod malfunctioned and you burned alive in the atmosphere." Mando instructed him in that level, modulated voice. "Stop stealing shit and I won't have to hunt you down again."

"Those men stole from me!" Ezra retorted hotly, knocking his elbow down into the white case that hung off his hip. "I worked alone for stands and they came along right at the most opportune juncture, put a thrower to my head and robbed me! I simply reclaimed-"

Mando waved a hand, interrupting his self-righteous tirade. "You and I both know that it doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting the credits this time, but next time…" he trailed off pointedly. "Don't get caught again. If someone else from my Guild chapter picks up your bounty, Mandalorian or otherwise, they will catch you."

Mando leaned in close, his elbows resting on his knees and helmet propped up on his folded hands. Ezra felt for all the world like a specimen underneath a microscope, barely suppressing the urge to squirm nervously.

"The bounty specified that you be captured warm." The armored man said after a beat. "No promise of half-payment upon cold delivery or even proof of demise. So whoever you got into a pissing match with wants to be the one to put that last slug into your brain. You already heard my advice. For your own good, I suggest you lay low and be fucking quiet." He gestured out the cockpit viewport at the green sphere that hovered in the distance. "There's good people on that planet. Good people that I care about. If you bring hunters to their doorstep, I will find out. And then I will find you."

Kevva have mercy, this man was no joke. Ezra was having a difficult time just mustering up the breath to give him an affirmation! Was this truly the same Lancelot he had watched engage in lotus-eating debauchery with his Guinevere not two hours hence? Ezra's belly roiled uncertainly, arousal and fear a potent combination. This must be how the bounty hunter indulged himself without divesting his plate, the prospector reasoned dimly. Fear was a remarkably stimulating thing. "Of course." He finally answered, his voice a little reedy. "Your mercy is...unexpectedly generous, but no less appreciated for its spontaneity."

Mando grunted, seeming satisfied with his response. The armored man returned to the control panel after a moment, flipping a few switches. The entire ship appeared to be miles above what Ezra was used to. Even the Testin had a dog-eared manual that hung from a chain by the central dash, and the craft was such a rattling nightmare that she needed three bodies just to keep her straight. But this man, this...Mandalorian, he operated the whole blasted vessel with a fluid ease.

His next words were so quiet Ezra nearly missed them. "Thank you."

"Pardon?" Ezra queried blankly.

Mando heaved a sigh that made his pauldrons visibly dip. "I said, thank you." He growled awkwardly. "I don't know what...I don't know if I would have hurt them because of--because of how I am."

"It will do no good to ruminate on such dour subjects." Ezra hesitated, then continued, "but your Creed...would you have broken it for them, had you known about the requirements of the Medusine barrier?"

"I…" Mando tightened his hold on the directionals, those gloves creaking with his tension. "I'm not sure." He admitted, lapsing into silence afterwards.

"Your ship is marvelously responsive." Ezra murmured by way of changing the subject. "It reminds me of a diminutive Screamer-class that I endured a few stands on, oh, nearly fifteen cycles ago-"

"Be quiet."

…

Din watched Ezra until he vanished between the large trunks of Sorgan's conifers, the Mandalorian then dropping back into the pilot's seat with a groan. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped he hadn't just unleashed some mass-murdering psychopath on the unsuspecting populace.

Djarin tilted his helmet back against the headrest of the seat, aimlessly staring up at the fuselage.

What the hell was he going to say when you woke up?

Din's heart sank. He knew that he couldn't believe anything that had come out of your mouth while you had been under the effects of that fruit. Serpent's Tongue. He chewed his lower lip meditatively.

He could lie.

He fucking cringed at the thought, then shook his head at himself. You would be embarrassed at best, but at worst…

Shit, he didn't want to lose you, even if you didn't feel the same way about him. And then there was the kid to worry about. No, a lie would be better.

You had sought out other Mandos. His stomach lurched as he recalled that little fact. Fuck, fuck, was it hope that beat so insistently in his throat?

A sealed unit, he had said.

He just wouldn't bring it up. He was the one who had insisted that this whole maneuver was struck from the proverbial records in the first place, right? He just wouldn't mention it. Easy enough. If you said something, that was fine, but otherwise…

Din nodded firmly. This is the Way.

Part Two

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entity-of-the-opera · 4 years

Text

Hamilton Musical Essay

First off, I want to say that if you like the musical, that’s fine. I’m not trying to tell you not to like it. I’m simply expressing my thoughts about it.

Secondly, this is mostly about things the musical got wrong, but there is definitely going to be some bias and opinions in here. So don’t take anything I say (unless I have provided a source) as fact.

Now, let's go through this show one song at a time.

(quick warning, this post is long. very long. and will take a while to read. i apologize in advance)

ACT I

Alexander Hamilton

I don't have much of a problem with this song, and it is pretty good. However, I do wish that they hadn’t glossed over his early years. I get that they were not that interesting, but they played such a big part in his life, especially in his later years when he was in politics.

“Me? I loved him” haha no. that line should have been said by Eliza and Laurens. Not Eliza, Angelica and Maria/Peggy.

Aaron Burr, Sir

Oh boy, oh boy, I have quite a bit to say about this one.

I strongly dislike the portrayal of Burr throughout the whole show. I get what LMM was going for with the whole “it’s how history sees him” but, you could’ve given him a bit more character.

Burr singing “Fools that run their mouths off wind up dead” and then Laurens walking out immediately after is clever, because Laurens really was a fool who ran his mouth off quite a lot. Like the time he yelled at the king of France, King Louis XVI.

There's the obvious mistake that Hamilton met John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan and the Marquis de Lafayette at completely different times. He didn’t even meet burr in 1776 as we see here. He met burr in 1772-1773 when Hamilton briefly went to Princeton.

Laurens, Mulligan and Lafayette have very little character (which is something a lot of the people in this show struggle with.) for people who were pretty close to Hamilton, (especially Laurens) they don't seem like they were written to be very important characters. Their personality in this show can be summed up in a sentence.

And there's the other obvious mistake that Lafayette (and probably Laurens as well) never met Mulligan.

My Shot

The foreshadowing is good, I'll give it that.

For some reason, the chemistry between Lafayette and Mulligan-- who, again, never actually met-- is better than the chemistry between Hamilton and Laurens. What's up with that, huh?

“Wait ‘til I sally in on a stallion with the first black battalion” Laurens never got his black battalion. Congress approved the plan, but the South Carolina Legislative Assembly did not.

“Laurens, I like you a lot” get outta here with that crap. Either make their relationship a bigger part in the musical or keep it out completely. I hate how subtle and glossed over their relationship is in this show.

I do like Laurens’ little part in this song, it’s a rare part of the show where we see his actual personality instead of just “grr slavery bad alcohol good.” Anthony Ramos is a very good singer.

This song is pretty good story-wise. It is very well written. Hamilton’s monologue is surprisingly accurate to the real Alexander Hamilton and his beliefs.

The Story of Tonight

It has a good vibe, and I think it’s the closest we see Laurens and Hamilton throughout the entire show, which is kinda nice.

Again with the Lafayette-Mulligan thing LMM why???

The Schuyler Sisters

LMM unintentionally created a monster when he wrote that “and Peggy” line. That joke is one of the most overused and unfunny jokes in this show and its fandom.

Having Angelica be the “strong woman” in the show was a good idea on paper, but it’s not all that accurate to the real Angelica Schuyler, and it’s like her only personality trait (aside from the whole Hamilton and Angelica thing but I’ll talk more on that later)

I'm gonna say this a lot but oh my god these people have no character to them. Not even Eliza Schuyler-- Hamilton’s frickin wife.

Listen ok I am strictly attracted to men but Phillipa Soo is an absolutely beautiful and amazing and talented person. She has full permission to step on me.

Farmer Refuted

The farmer refuted was a pamphlet published by Hamilton in 1775 in response to something Samuel Seabury wrote about how the congress in Philadelphia was bad. Not an actual public debate like you see in the show. But I’ll let this one slide because having the actors read pamphlets onstage would be a lot less entertaining.

That’s pretty much it the song isn’t that interesting.

You’ll Be Back

This is probably just me but I don’t like how King George III steaks the show and is the main source of comedy. When I asked family members after their first viewing of the show who their favourite character was, almost all of them said the King.

Mr. Groff, please keep your spit to yourself.

As far as my knowledge of King George III goes-- and I do not know a lot about him so don’t take this too seriously-- this song is a pretty accurate depiction of ‘The Mad King.’

Redcoat Interlude

Just gonna put this here to say The Bullet is a really cool character.

Right Hand Man

Chris Jackson has the voice of an angel.

I don’t like the way Washington is characterized. At some points, he’s over-glorified, but at other parts of the show, he’s downplayed a lot, and it doesn’t at all seem like the real George Washington.

Washington and Hamilton’s relationship in this show is so off from what it would’ve been historically. You don’t see it much in this song so I won’t say much here for the sake of keeping things organized, but I’ll discuss it later when it’s more obvious

Mulligan is shown in a continental uniform, yet he was not in the army. He was a spy. He wouldn’t have worn a uniform.

As with a lot of songs in this show, the music and choreography are amazing. The ensemble is so so talented.

This scene where Burr is meeting with Washington isn’t entirely wrong, but it’s not exactly how it happened. According to Wikipedia, “In the spring of 1776, Burr's stepbrother Matthias Ogden helped him to secure a position with George Washington's staff in Manhattan, but he quit on June 26 to be on the battlefield.”

Hamilton did not meet Washington at the same time as Burr. He joined Washington’s staff in the spring of 1777.

I’m not exactly sure what he’s referring to when he says “I have some friends, Laurens, Mulligan, Marquis de Lafayette” but I do know that Laurens and Lafayette were not his friends at this point. They weren’t even in America at the time. Mulligan was, and he was good friends with Hamilton.

A Winter’s Ball

The formatting here is wild. This happened in 1780, I don’t know why LMM skipped ahead to this.

“We’re reliable with the ladies” ok that is true I’ll admit.

What is Laurens doing here? He was a prisoner of war in Phillidelphia when Hamilton met Eliza.

Helpless

Eliza was not “helpless.” If anything, Hamilton was the one head-over-heels for her.

Hamilton. Was. Not. Into. Angelica. Angelica. Was. Not. Into. Hamilton.

Hamilton’s little speech to Eliza after he gains her father’s blessing is kinda cute and pretty accurate.

A lot of the people shown in this scene were not at Hamilton’s wedding.

Laurens is shown as Hamilton’s best man, but at the time of Hamilton’s wedding, he was travelling north to meet with Washington after finding out he is to be sent on a diplomatic mission to France. James McHenry, a fellow Aide-De-Camp to Washington, was Hamilton’s best man.

Satisfied

I hate how this is such a good song because what it’s about is probably my least favourite part of this show.

There is no evidence of Angelica being romantically attracted to Hamilton. They likely had a brother-sister kind of bond.

Now, having Angelica as the side love interest wouldn’t have been that bad if it was a real thing, but it wasn’t. LMM intentionally re-wrote a part of history to have her in it, when he could’ve kept the same storyline, and have Laurens be the side love interest. If he had given Laurens that role, he could’ve made the show more historically accurate, and it would bring to light a part of history many people try to erase. But in giving Angelica that role, he has not only completely changed a part in history but has also erased the fact that Alexander Hamilton-- nor John Laurens, for that matter-- was straight. LMM had so much power. He was writing a musical about a founding father. He could have brought so many things we didn’t know to light. And yet, we’re stuck with this.

Angelica was not the person who introduced Hamilton to Angelica. It was most likely Cathrine “Kitty” Livingston, a friend and possible love interest to Hamilton that he met before he joined the army.

Angelica had brothers.

The Story of Tonight (Reprise)

“I’ve seen wonders great and small” *gestures down* I’m sorry sir what?

They were all married before Hamilton.

Wait For It

This is a beautiful song and it doesn’t have much wrong with it.

Stay Alive

Sweet lord the timeline is terrible. The battle of Monmouth happened in 1778 before Hamilton got married.

Here is a better example of the strange portrayal of Washington and Hamilton. The real Washington wouldn’t have called Hamilton “son.” He wouldn’t be as friendly with him. Their relationship was professional.

Mulligan was already in new york, so he wouldn’t have to “go back to new york and [his] apprenticeship.”

“Instead of me, he promotes Charles Lee” Hamilton did not ask for a command at Monmouth. What happened was Lee was given a command, declined, and then it was given instead to Lafayette. Later, Lee requested the command be given back to him because Lafayette was very young and didn’t have much experience. Washinton blindly trusted Lee and agreed to give it back to him.

After Lee was court-martialed, he kept running his mouth and slandering Washington. Hamilton originally wanted to duel lee, but Laurens told him not to, and to just let him say what he wants. Later, after Lee kept running his mouth and the insults got worse, Laurens decided to duel him.

Washington didn’t know of the duel. He didn’t even know it happened until the day after.

Ten Duel Commandments

Hamilton was not the one who was super giddy and impatient for the duel to start, he was kinda the opposite. Laurens was the one who challenged Lee and was the trigger happy one.

Burr was not Lee’s second, Evan Edwards was.

Again, Hamilton was not as enthusiastic as shown here. He was the one who tried to call off the duel and actually prevented Laurens and Lee from firing a second time.

Meet Me Inside

Laurens was not satisfied after he shot Lee, and demanded them to shoot again.

Washington saying “these young men don’t speak for me” isn’t that far off from how he reacted, but we can’t be 100% sure because there’s not a lot that was documented about his reaction to the duel.

Washinton was more upset with Laurens for holding a duel in his honour. So he wouldn’t have lectured Hamilton as he does in this scene.

As I said before, Washington would not be calling Hamilton “son”.

I really wish LMM wrote this scene differently because it’s entirely wrong. Hamilton didn’t leave the army until March of 1781, after being so fed up with Washington continuously denying him a command.

“Charles Lee, Thomas Conway, these men take your name and they rake it through the mud” that is true, and he’s referring to the Conway Cabal. More info on the Conway Cabal can be found here if you’re interested.

The timeline is so confusing here. “Your wife needs you alive” technically, at the time of the duel he didn’t have a wife, but by the time he left Washington’s staff he did. But in the show, I'm assuming this scene takes place in 1778, so, historically, no wife yet. But in the show, he also gets married before this scene. So I don’t know what’s going on here.

That Would Be Enough

For the sake of simplicity and not driving myself to insanity, I’m just gonna assume this takes place in 1781. Because I don’t want to try and figure out the timeline.

Eliza was not a month pregnant yet, in fact, she wasn’t pregnant at all at the time. Hamilton went home in march 1781, and their first son Philip was born in January of the next year. Doing the math, Eliza wasn’t pregnant until May 1781.

This song is actually really sweet aww.

Guns and Ships

Ah, the timeline finally smooths out.

Lafayette wasn’t really a “secret weapon,” he was just a General

Nevermind the timeline is messed up again. “I go to France for more funds” he did that in 1779, and he went back to France on leave, apparently missing home. He ended up working with Benjamin Franklin to send more troops and ships to America.

I wish Laurens was mentioned here. He went on a diplomatic mission to France in February and convinced the french congress to gift America 6 million livres.

Lafayette was not the one to tell Washington he needed Hamilton to come back. What happened was in July after he left, Hamilton sent a letter to Washington threatening to resign his commission. Washinton panicked and sent Tench Tilghman-- a fellow Aide-de-Camp beside Hamilton-- to go to the house Hamilton rented with Eliza to tell him to come back to the army and that Washington will give him a command.

You can see in this scene Lafayette running with a letter, but he was not the person who did that. It was Tilghman.

History Has Its Eyes On You

I can’t think of anything wrong with this song, it’s pretty spot-on and sounds beautiful.

Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down)

“We’ll be with you when you do,” ehehe no they were not. The Americans did almost nothing to help France during the French Revolution.

“Take the bullets out your gun” was actually something Hamilton did with his battalion when they were sneaking through the trenches on their way to attack Redoubt 10.

Laurens was not in South Carolina, he was at Yorktown-- fighting under Hamilton’s command-- after just returning from his diplomatic mission to France.

Lafayette was not “there waiting in Chesapeake bay,” he was with the other french troops attacking Redoubt 9.

Again, Mulligan would not have been in uniform.

Mulligan might have “taken their measurements, information” but he sure didn’t “smuggle it.” That was done by his slave, Cato. He and Mulligan were working with the Sons of Liberty and with Hamilton’s spy ring-- of which we do not know the name of-- and smuggled intelligence to General Washington.

The instrumentals and the choreography make me very happy. I really enjoy the short little instrumental break.

The siege of Yorktown lasted three weeks, not just one.

They act like this was the end of the war. It most certainly was not. The war didn’t officially end until 1783 with the signing of the Treaty of Paris. Yorktown was the last major battle of the war, but not just the last.

What comes Next

I’m very picky about this but I don’t like the king purely because I feel like he steals the show and is the automatic favourite.

Dear Theodosia

Philip Hamilton was born a year before Theodosia Burr.

I don’t know much about Burr, but I can say that Hamilton really did love his kids and his family, and I'm upset that we don’t see that in the show. At least we see a bit of it in this song.

Laurens Interlude (Tomorrow There’ll Be More of Us)

“It’s from John Laurens. I’ll read it later.” This makes me sad because the last letter sent between these two was sent from Hamilton on August 15th (and most likely never reached Laurens before his death,) so Hamilton was probably expecting the letter Eliza brings him to be a reply.

We don’t know exactly how Hamilton learned of Laurens’ death, but we do know it was not from a letter from Henry Laurens (John Laurens’ Father.) He most likely learned of Laurens’ death from either Washington or General Greene.

I find it a bit odd that Laurens sings the line “and when our children tell our story” because he never met his daughter, he left his pregnant wife in England (she moved to France a few years later) to sail to America to join the revolution, and never visited them (not even when he was in France for his diplomatic mission.) But I get it, it’s a reprise of “The Story of Tonight.”

The war was not over, but it was close.

“His dream of freedom for these men dies with him.” Yep. Unfortunately, he never got the black battalion he worked so hard for.

I hate how fast it moves from this emotional scene, where Hamilton learns of the death of his closest friend-- the man he loved-- to “after the war I went back to new york” like geez, LMM. give the man some time to grieve.

Non-Stop

The trial of Levi Weeks didn’t happen until 1800.

There is no record of this midnight meeting of Burr and Hamilton.

Burr didn’t actually support the constitution.

Angelica was married long before this, so I don’t know why it’s just being brought up now-- oh wait. LMM is back on his hamgelica bullcrap.

John Jay got sick after writing four, came back to write the fifth, then got sick again and ditched Hamilton and James Madison.

Hamilton did not write all 51 essays on his own, he collaborated on a few with Madison.

Hamilton was not immediately offered the position of Treasury Secretary. It was first offered to Madison, who declined, and then it was offered to Hamilton.

Most of the time, Hamilton was upset that he had to leave his family for work and wrote them often when he was away. From this point onward in the show, Hamilton’s character and personality are getting more and more inaccurate. He was not the selfish, self-centred man we see in the show. In reality, he was a kind man who loved his family but oftentimes made bad decisions due to his bad habit of acting without thought or planning.

ACT II

What’d I Miss

Daveed Diggs is cool, but I don’t understand why so many straight girls are so obsessed with him.

“Pissed him off until we had a two-party system” that’s pretty much true and it’s stupid.

He was in Paris for 5 years. It's not that long.

The “Sally be a lamb” line makes me so upset because it is so disrespectful to Sally Hemmings. I wish LMM left her out completely.

“I am to be the secretary of state, great!” Jefferson was not very happy about being appointed to the secretary of state because he wanted to stay at Monticello and do his own thing.

“I can’t believe that we are free” it’s ironic that Jefferson of all people says that line.

Mr. Madison, that’s not very COVID friendly of you.

Jefferson knew Hamilton for a bit before he went to France, and they did get along outside of politics.

Cabinet Battle #1

I hate how cocky and self-centred Jefferson is here because 1) it’s annoying as hell, and 2) the real Thomas Jefferson was not. He was quiet and shy.

“Imagine what gon’ happen when you try to tax our whiskey.” funny you should say that, Mr. Jefferson. Neither Jefferson nor Madison were not involved with the whiskey rebellion. They were silent on the issue because they made a deal with Hamilton (which I will talk more about in a few songs.) However, Hamilton-- the guy Jefferson is talking to in this scene-- was involved in the whiskey rebellion. He doesn’t have to “Imagine what gon’ happen,” he was there. More info on the whiskey tax and rebellion can be found here.

“We almost died in a trench, while you were off getting high with the french” Jefferson wasn’t in France during the war.

I’m glad the topic of slavery is being brought up, but it could’ve done in a different way instead of just a clap back in a rap battle.

“Madison, you mad as a hatter, son take your medicine” Hamilton is such a hypocrite here. Did he forget the time he almost died of a fever when he was 10? Or when he almost died of a fever in Albany in 1778? Or the fact that on multiple occasions he overworked himself so hard that he got sick? Or his kidney problems? Or--

“You’re gonna need congressional approval and you don’t have the votes!” Jefferson and Madison literally helped him get the votes. (again, I’ll explain later.)

“Well, James Madison won’t talk to me.” He used to. A lot. Hamilton and Madison used to be really good friends until Jefferson returned from France and Madison drifted to his side.

Take a Break

I don’t know how long her trip lasted, but I doubt that Angelica was with Eliza and the kids on their trip upstate. She came to visit in 1789, and the Reynolds affair started in 1791. However, I have no concrete evidence that she left before the affair started, so maybe she was there. I don’t know.

Ah yes, Alexander “I Don’t Care About My Family” Hamilton.

“I have a sister but I want a little brother” by 1791 (when this scene takes place using Philip’s age as a reference) Phillip had 2 brothers already.

While the Schuyler Mansion is near a park, there’s no lake. Today, at least. There’s a swimming pool though.

“I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase,” shut up shut up shut up.

“With a comma after “dearest,” you’ve written: “My dearest, Angelica”” I hate how obsessed LMM is with this stupid comma, yet doesn’t say anything about the multiple suggestive and romantic letter between Laurens and Hamilton.

Speaking of the comma situation, it was meant as a joke. What had happened was Angelica sent a letter to Hamilton with “my dearest, Alexander '' and put the comma by mistake. She just slipped up with her grammar. And in response, Hamilton wrote “my dearest, Angelica” as a joke to tease her about it. It’s not romantic. It was meant. As. A. Joke.

John Adams was vice president. I'd say that’s a real job.

Angelica, stop being all “I came all this way :((“ he doesn’t want to miss out on the trip, but he has to. If he had a choice he would definitely go with his family.

Say No To This

I hate how this song demonizes Mary Lewis (more commonly known as Maria Reynolds) like she was trying to get out of an abusive marriage??? And Hamilton was like “oof that sux wanna bang?”

The heterosexual energy in this scene overwhelms me (/j)

The first letter (that I have found) from James Reynolds to Hamilton was sent on December 15, 1791, so not “a month into this endeavour.”

I will note here that in the letter mentioned above, it sounds nothing like what we hear in the song. Which makes me question if the above letter is even the one Hamilton the musical is talking about.

Because of limited information, I cannot say whether this scene is accurate or not.

“I don’t know about any letter!” she most certainly did. Mary and Reynolds both sent letters to Hamilton concerning the affair.

The Room Where It Happens

This is the song I was talking about when I said I’d talk more about the deal between Jefferson and Madison and Hamilton.

Washington was the one who proposed that this dinner happen.

Clermont street was renamed Mercer street in 1799, the dinner table bargain (what this song is about) was in 1790. Before the Hamilton-Reynolds affair. Yet another wrinkle in the timeline.

“Now how you gonna get your debt plan through?” “I guess I’m gonna finally have to listen to you” well, Hamilton didn’t really “talk less, smile more” his way through the issue. He did-- as he usually does-- quite a lot of talking

“Well, hate the sin, love the sinner” doesn’t sit right with me because it is sometimes used as a homophobic remark.

Jefferson’s account of the bargain on the assumption and residence bills is what this scene is about.

Madison did not hate Hamilton until Jefferson returned from France.

Leslie Odom Jr. is so, so talented.

There is nothing to suggest that Burr wanted to be there. I don’t even think he knew it happened.

Schuyler Defeated

Not much to say here, it's a short and forgettable song.

Cabinet Battle #2

I don’t like how much Jefferson says “we.” He wasn’t there. He wasn’t a soldier.

“Smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty” Hamilton was known for his colourful clothes, while Jefferson was known for dressing sloppily.

“Lafayette’s a smart man, he’ll be fine.” yeah, uh, he was imprisoned in Austria at the time…

“You’re nothing without Washington behind you.” Hamilton was a very powerful man. One of the most powerful, next to Washington. Even with Washington gone, he still held a lot of power and was pretty well-known.

Washington On Your Side

“Thanks to Hamilton, our cabinet’s fractured into factions.” Hamilton is probably one of the biggest reasons the two-party system exists, but Jefferson did play a role as well. To put it simply, Hamilton and the federalists disagreed so much with Jefferson and the democratic-republicans that everything just got split in two.

“And dresses like the pits of fashion” look at the point from the above song.

“Somebody gives me some dirt on this vacuous mass” it really wasn’t that hard to find dirt on Hamilton. He had a controversial past, and could sometimes be a really shady guy. However, it was all for-- at least in his own head-- good reason.

Because of how close Hamilton and Washington were, Hamilton had a lot of power, and Washington backed him up quite a lot.

James Madison gets so little lines in this show, and it makes me kind of upset. Hamilton and Madison were pretty close friends for a few years, so I don’t know why LMM didn’t talk at all about that.

“This immigrant isn’t somebody we chose” yes, but Washington chose him. Don’t like him? take it up with Washington.

One Last Time

Jefferson did not step “down so he can run for president,�� he stepped down to go home. To relax at his mansion, to get away from politics. He stepped down in 1793 and didn’t run for president until 1796.

This song is actually really good, and pretty accurate. And good lord Chris Jackson can sing. Gives me chills every time.

I Know Him

Adams did know King George III. and from what I have read, he was very nervous to meet him.

“That’s that little guy who spoke to me” of course he’s little to the king, the king was like 6’6”.

The Adams Administration

The Adams Pamphlet was published in 1800.

The new york post wasn’t founded until 1801, so I find it odd that they’re bringing it up in this song, in 1797.

Adams did not fire Hamilton, he stepped down on his own in 1795.

Hamilton’s response to Adams’ taunts hurt Hamilton’s reputation a lot more than it hurt Adams’.

We Know

This takes place in 1792 before Adams was president.

Jefferson, Madison and Burr were not the people to confront Hamilton. It was James Monroe, Frederick Muhlenberg, and Abraham Venable.

The whole situation with the speculation of embezzled funds is pretty off from what we see here. What happened was James Reynolds embezzled $500 and tried to get his way out of imprisonment by saying he had dirt on Hamilton. Monroe, Muhlenberg, and Venable went to Hamilton and Hamilton explained “no, I didn’t embezzle government money, I just got my dick sucked.”

“Yes, I have reasons for shame,” yeah you think?

Hurricane

The workshop version is better, and it has Laurens in it.

The Reynolds Pamphlet

Gotta give Hamilton credit for not publishing this until after William S. Hamilton was born and then waiting for the stress of a new baby to be gone. Y’know at least he’s considerate.

Eliza was only gone for the summer of ‘91, so I don’t know why everyone’s acting like she was gone the whole time.

Hamilton didn’t even want to be a president, and never showed any interest in the position.

Angelica was already in America at the time, she didn’t just travel because of the affair.

The king has no reason to be here. I get that he’s the comedic relief, but this isn’t a scene where comedic relief is needed. It’s a serious situation.

“His poor wife” yeah, but have you ever stopped to think about what Mary Lewis is going through?

Burn

“You have ruined our lives.” The ‘our’ is referring to Eliza and Mary Lewis.

Blow Us All Away

George Eaker said many bad things about Hamilton in a fourth of July public speech, but Philip Hamilton didn’t meet him and challenge him to the duel until late November of 1801.

Speaking of 1801, this happens way after the Reynolds affair and the election of 1800.

Hamilton didn’t know that the duel happened. Philip lied and told his father that it had been resolved. Hamilton later found out that it happened when John B. Church and a few others told him after it happened that Philip was shot and dying.

“Everything is legal in New Jersey.” duelling was illegal in some form or another in every state, but the punishment was less severe in New Jersey.

The guns Philip (and his father 3 years later) used in the duel belonged to John B. Church. They were not Hamilton’s guns.

Eaker didn’t shoot on 7. They both counted to 10 and stood still for an awkward minute before Philip raised his gun to fire into the air, and Eacker got scared that Philip would shoot him and shot Philip.

Stay Alive (Reprise)

When Hamilton arrived at the home of dr. David Hosack (the doctor treating Philip) he reportedly fainted from anxiety.

Eliza’s scream should have been Angelica Hamilton, as she had a mental breakdown after the death of her brother, and was arguably (out of the rest of her siblings) the most hurt by his death.

It’s Quiet Uptown

Hamilton was really hurt by the death of his son. It was probably what broke him the most out of every death he’s seen in his life-- and he’s seen a lot.

“I take the children to church on Sunday,” after Philip’s death, Hamilton and his family became a lot more religious.

“His hair has gone grey,” there is a portrait of Hamilton shortly after his son’s death, and he looks like he’s aged 10 years. He looks old and sad and in grief. It barely looks like him.

Eliza would have forgiven Hamilton at this point. She forgave him not too long after the Reynolds pamphlet was published.

The Election of 1800

This happened before Philip’s duel, but you already knew that.

“I’m going door-to-door.” “You’re openly campaigning?” “Sure!” Burr was the first presidential candidate to openly campaign and set the standard for modern American politics.

They were tied for a stupidly long time. And when they finally got untied (by Hamilton and the federalists’ promotions and persuasion) it was by just a few votes. Not “in a landslide.”

Burr did end up being Jefferson’s vice-president. Jefferson didn’t change that.

Your Obedient Servant

This is a situation, much like the Reynolds affair, where no one is in the “right” or the “wrong.” Was it wrong for Burr to shoot Hamilton? Yes, absolutely. Was it wrong for Hamilton to say bad things about Burr and constantly keep him away from what he wanted? Yes, absolutely. But on the other side, was it wrong for Burr to be mad about what Hamilton did? No, he had every right to be angry. Was it wrong for Hamilton to speak his mind? No, freedom of speech and all that. It’s a very fuzzy situation and that’s partly why it’s unclear what exactly happened on the duelling ground.

While Burr’s loss of the elections was a reason for his duel with Hamilton, it was not the main reason. There were a bunch of little things that led up to this. A question I’ve been asked before (quite a few times, honestly) is “if Burr won the election/if Hamilton promoted Burr, would the duel still have happened?” and in my opinion, I think it still would have happened, it would have probably just happened later. Because the duel wasn’t the “breaking point” for Burr, it was just one of those little things that led to it.

Also while I’m on the topic of the election, it happened a few years before the duel. The election of 1800 was on March 4, 1801 (yes, 1801. It was tied for a very long time.) The duel was on July 11, 1804. So not directly afterward.

“Just to keep me from winning.” it is true that Hamilton did not trust Burr to be in power, and did everything he could to stop him.

The workshop version is cooler and more accurate. (if LMM had just kept the workshop version and what was in it I probably wouldn’t be writing TBH)

“I am not the reason no one trusts you,” in a way, yes, Hamilton is the reason no one trusts Burr. Hamilton had a lot of power and a lot of people listened to him. A good example of this would be his role during John Adams’ presidency. Hamilton constantly whispered into Adams’ cabinet members’ ears and basically told them what to do. And they believed him, and did what he said.

“Even if I said what you think I said, you would need to cite a more specific grievance. Here’s an itemized list of 30 years of disagreements.” Hamilton and Burr argued so much and Hamilton said so many bad things about him that when Burr asked him to admit to saying these things Hamilton essentially said “yeah well I’ve said a lot about you so you’re gonna have to be a lot more specific because I don’t know which time you’re referring to.”

Best of Wives, Best of Women

The title (and the line in the song) are a reference to this letter.

Hamilton was not with his wife the night before the duel. He was at a house he had rented in new york city that he stayed in sometimes while away for work. A few of his older sons were with him, though, including John C. Hamilton, who was interviewed many years later and gave a retelling of what happened the night before. You can read it here.

The World Was Wide Enough

“A doctor that he knew” was David Hosak, the same doctor who treated Philip after his duel just 3 years earlier.

“Now, I didn’t know this at the time but we were near the same spot your son died,” I’m fairly sure he knew, Philip’s duel was a pretty big thing and a lot of people knew.

“My fellow soldiers tell you I’m a terrible shot.” Burr was actually a very good shot. There’s even an account of him doing target practice a few days before the duel.

“But look it up, Hamilton was wearing his glasses,” Hamilton put on his glasses because he was old, and had bad vision from his years of service in the revolution, and from how hard he worked. Fun fact, he was facing the rising sun, which meant the sun glared off his glasses, rendering him unable to see clearly. He wouldn’t have been able to shoot Burr if he tried.

“This man will not make an orphan of my daughter.” Burr’s daughter, Theodosia, was 22 and married. I’m sure she would be fine. On the other hand, Hamilton’s kids were very young. The oldest, Angelica, was only 19, and the youngest, Philip II, was only 2. These kids all needed a father figure in their life, but apparently, Burr didn’t consider that.

In the lines "Laurens leads a soldiers’ chorus on the other side / My son is on the other side, he's with my mother on the other side / Washington is watching from the other side," it seems like they’re being listed in a very particular order but I’m not sure what it means or why they’re in that order.

Hamilton quotes Laurens’ lines right before he dies and it makes me think of a conversation I had with a friend. She was telling me about how for some time after Laurens’ death, Hamilton didn’t really speak that much in congress and such. At first, I thought “oh it’s because he’s dealing with the death of his closest friend and possible romantic partner,” but then my friend explained that that’s not why he was quiet. It’s because when Laurens was in South Carolina, trying to convince the house of representatives to give him his black battalion, he didn’t talk that much. He waited for everyone else to talk, and then he jumped in and talked. That’s why Hamilton was silent for a lot of the time. He was doing what Laurens did. He was quoting Laurens.

“They row him back across the Hudson, I get a drink.” After shooting Hamilton, Burr went to his cousin’s house as if nothing had happened.

Burr showed seemingly no regret for shooting Hamilton, and even bragged and joked about it for years after.

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

“Every other founding father’s story gets told,” it really is kinda sad how little people know about Hamilton. He’s not taught about in school. He wasn’t a president.

I do wish that the musical talked a bit more about Hamilton’s kids and their contribution to keeping Hamilton's story alive. Especially John C. who went through all of his father’s papers and wrote the first biography on him.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I really wish the Laurens-Hamilton relationship was a bigger part of the show.

The actors are amazing, but the people they play have little to no character/personality, and it kinda brings the actors down.

I love Phillipa soo.

There are so many inaccuracies that could have been easily avoided, and I genuinely don’t understand why LMM did some of the things he did. Like there was no reason to make Angelica the love interest. Absolutely no reason. And yet, here we are.

Hamilton, the musical was a great way to make more people interested in history, but unfortunately because of how wrong the show is, a lot of people who gain an interest in history from it think that it’s 100% right and treat it like a documentary. I would know, I became interested in American history because of the musical and I didn’t know how many things were wrong or left out until recently.

The workshop version was better and more accurate.

And that’s it! I’d like to give a big thanks to my friends who helped me, especially my friend Mary.

#gil writes #gil's hamilton musical essay #im actually so proud of this #please dont let this flop

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