#“it's practically never going to ha-” GUNSHOTS

[maya-caffrey]

psych and white collar crossover i will wait for you forever

[skzstannie]

"They found her"

SKZ -> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

This is a part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone as there's not much reference to the original fic.

genre: hurt/comfort, angst wc: ~3,800 words cw: kidnapping, guns and gunshot wounds, hospitals, some brief cursing

Summary: Since the incident, the guys have been extremely over protective of you. You heed their warnings, but still go out unaccompanied by security on your vacation, only to have to pay the price for your poor decisions.

A/N: Hiiii, ik I've disappeared off the face of the Earth again, but I've brought gifts back with me this time. This one's a bit heavier, but it's the long awaited part 2 to "Did you know?", so I hope you guys enjoy. I hit 500 followers since the last time I posted, so this is kind of a celebratory post as well. Thanks guys!

Masterlist | Happy Scrolling!

The time has come around again when JYP has given you and your members some well-earned personal vacation, and you've chosen to spend that time back at home with your family and friends.

Upon hearing about your vacation, your childhood friends started blowing up your phone, asking about when you'll be in and if you wanted to hangout. Of course, you've missed them just as much and gave them all the details of you're arrival.

The day of said plans has finally arrived, and you couldn't be more excited. You and three of your closest friends have decided to go to this cute breakfast cafe for brunch, run by all your favorite stores for some shopping, and then round your evening out with some bar hopping.

"You have got to see this!" Ha-Yoon, a friend you've known since grade school, explodes from beside you in the passenger seat, fanning herself. "Look at how hot this guy is? Think he'll give me his number if I DM him?"

"Are you being for real?" Dae cringes from the backseat, leaning forward to get a closer look at your friend's new internet crush. "He's kinda ugly."

This elicits a bickering match for the remainder of the drive, with you and your remaining friend, Soon-Bok, rolling your eyes at their silly banter.

You decided that you'd pick them all up from their homes, figuring that you'd get to spend some more time with them that way. You didn't really think about the fact that perhaps more time was synonymous with too much time. Just because you hadn't seen your friends in months, doesn't mean that they didn't see each other literally every single day.

With a clear of your throat, they stop insulting each other's fantasy love interests, both squealing when they realize you've pulled into the parking lot for the cafe.

The four of you get out of the car, you pulling your keys out of your purse to lock the doors. While walking towards the doors of the cafe, you're hit with a strange feeling- like someone's watching you.

Immediately, you whip your head around in search of anyone getting a little too nosey, but you come up with nothing. You keep your guard up though, knowing you can never be too sure.

Since the stage incident a few months back, you've been feeling a little paranoid. Understandably so, especially since the mean and threatening comments never subsided. It's gotten to the point where the staff have begun to send out a few extra security guards each time you leave the JYP building. In fact, JYP gave you all this nice little vacation in hopes it'd help some of the comments die down. To your dismay, they have not.

The guys have been incredibly protective since then, and you're actually grateful for it for once. Their constant questions about your whereabouts and wanting to tag along with you everywhere you go used to annoy you, but you'd never think to complain about it now.

Just this morning, having told them about your exciting plans for the day, they sent a barrage of texts telling you to be careful. Chan practically demanded you take a security guard with you, but for the sake of your friends' comfortability, you declined. Was it stupid? Possibly, but you're only wish for this vacation is to make things seem normal again. Having constant security around is not normal.

You placated Chan by telling him that your family knows of the places you'll be, and your family and the rest of your members all have your location at all times. He was reluctant, almost threatening to fly himself to your home just to go out on your little excursion with you, but he eventually gave way, not without first lecturing you about how important your safety is- like you didn't already know that.

~ ~ ~

"And then he pushed him down the stairs! How crazy!" Dae finishes, your eyes widening at how her story ended. She had just finished telling you all about how her boyfriend got into this big fight with a guy at the bar the other day. Apparently, the random man thought it acceptable to lay his hands on Dae, and her boyfriend did not appreciate that.

"Your boyfriend is so hot," Ha-Yoon comments, her eyes looking dreamily off into the distance.

"Excuse me?" Dae questions, raising a brow at Ha-Yoon's confession.

"I mean-"

"Ok!" you interrupt, pushing your chair back from the table you've all been sat at. The brunch was nice, catching up with your friends was much needed and the food was warm and comforting, but enough is enough, and your friends are starting to get a bit squeamish. "I need to use the restroom quickly, then we can head to the mall? Does that sound ok?"

There's a chorus of yesses, and they shoo you off into the restroom, picking up their phones to distract themselves until you get back.

You make your way to the back of the cafe, noticing how the bathrooms are secluded down a small hallway in the corner of the restaurant. Your eyes glance out the emergency exit door, and you tilt your head in confusion upon seeing a large white van sat outside it. It is not parked in a parking spot; it's just parked directly outside the door.

You quickly do your business, not wanting to keep your friends waiting for too long, and head back out to the front of the cafe. Stepping outside the restroom, a hand is immediately thrown over your mouth, a piece of foul smelling cloth pressed up against your nose. You try to scream, but this only causes you to inhale more of the chemical.

You fight, attempting to throw an elbow behind you to dislodge yourself from the person's vice like grip, but this only leads to your elbow being grabbed at a painful angle. You whimper slightly as the person pries your elbow behind you, and it almost feels as if your arm could snap if you were to move another inch. You become lightheaded, and it's hard to keep your eyes open and your mind alert. Unable to fight any longer, you give in and slump down into the arms which hold you captive.

~ ~ ~

"She's been gone awhile, I'm gonna go-" Soon-Bok is cut off by an alarm inside the cafe going off. All the customers heads perk up at the noise, their attention drifting to the employees.

The waitresses look to one another in confusion before one makes their way over to where you went for the restroom a few minutes before. The cafe is silent as the waitress disappears, looking for where the alarm would be coming from.

It's silent for another minute, before there's an audible gasp. She comes back with your purse in one hand and your cracked phone in the other.

Your three friends quickly get up from their seats, rushing over to the waitress. "Where'd you find this?" Dae asks, her eyes tearing up.

"Just outside the bathroom. I was just able to catch a glimpse of a van speeding off. Do you think someone was taken?" she asks, her eyes widening at the thought.

"I think- I think our friend was kidnapped," Ya-Hoon whispers.

~ ~ ~

"This is why I said she needed a security guard with her! This would have never happened!" Chan snaps at their management in anger, rising up from his seat in the meeting room.

Upon hearing about your kidnapping, the rest of your members were immediately brought back to the JYP building. They were all livid.

"Chan, I understand you're upset, but there's really nothing we can do now but wait-"

"Wait for what? Huh? Wait for her to just magically appear here?" Minho cuts off the head of security, his face red with anger.

"Of course the police are on the case and doing everything they can to find her. As for the eight of you, you are not to leave this building until we get all of this under control. Do you hear me? We do not need more than one missing member." JYP is stern as he speaks, leaving no room for discussion. "This meeting is dismissed. We will update you all if we hear anything."

With that, everyone else clears out of the room, leaving your eight members.

"This is awful," Felix says, his head hanging in his hands.

"No shit, Felix, why not state more of the obvious," Jisung narrows his eyes at Felix.

"We can't turn on each other," Changbin butts in, deterring them from getting into it any further. "We have to stick together and just wait this out. She's strong; she'll be ok."

"But what if she's not," Hyunjin speaks up for the first time since they got back. He's been huddled up against Jeongin since they got there, his head hung low. It's obvious he's been crying with the way his cheeks are stained with tears, his eyes red from how often he's rubbed them.

"We can't think like that," Chan says, moving over to Hyunjin. He lays a comforting arm around his shoulders, and Hyunjin immediately moves to the comfort of the leader, turning his head to hide it in Chan's chest. "They saw the van leave, it couldn't have been too long before the police were there. They'll find her, and then she'll be right back here with us."

"To never be let out of our sights again," Seungmin grumbles from the couch, wearing a similar expression to that of Felix's.

"Correct," Minho agrees, leaning back in his chair.

~ ~ ~

"Seungmin, you have to sleep. Staying up for 72 hours straight is not going to make her come back any faster," Chan lays his hand on the back of the boy's neck, slightly rocking him side to side.

"Maybe not, but I'll be the first to know when they find her," he counters, his bloodhsot eyes meeting Chan's. "You're one to talk; you haven't slept either."

Chan just sighs in response, plopping down on the couch next to him. It's quiet between the two of them, but neither are complaining about it. The peace is nice after what they've been through the past few days.

"Hyunjin hasn't stopped crying. Jeongin and Felix have had to take turns laying with him," Seungmin breaks the quiet, his soft voice travelling throughout the practice room. "Han hasn't eaten since we found out."

"I know, I've been trying to get everyone up and moving, but no one's interested."

"Chan, we're not expecting you to be the hero. We know you're in pain, too, and it's ok to act like it," it takes Chan a minute to process what Seungmin had said, but as his brain takes time, he realizes that it's been so long since he's cried, so long since he's truly let his emotions out.

With another moment passing, Chan's breath quickens and tears spring into his eyes. Without another thought, he turns his head into Seungmin's shoulder and cries. He cries for you, and how scared you must be right now, and he cries for the rest of his members, knowing how bad this is hurting them. He cries because he can't take away their pain or yours, not this time.

~ ~ ~

"Wake up." You feel a cold splash of water hit your face, and you're abruptly brought to consciousness. Your eyes open quickly in response to the cold, but you squint once you're hit with the blinding light coming from the ceiling light above you.

You try to talk, to say anything, but you quickly become aware of the duct tape placed snuggly over your mouth.

You gain some more proprioception, feeling the tightness of the rope around your wrists and how your ankles are tied to the legs of the chair you're currently sat on.

"Hey!" Your attention is brought to the large man standing in front of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of the gun in his hand. "Eyes here. And quit squirming so much!"

You freeze at that, stilling your movements. "Now listen here," you hear another guy say from across the room. You are just noticing him for the first time, and you realize that this guy in front of you must be the brawn of the operation. "We need some money. A lot of money. So, if you want to make it out of here alive, you need to call your family and have them bring us 350 million won. No less. Think you can handle that princess?"

Tears well in your eyes at the mention of death. You can't die like this, at the hands of these awful people. But you also know you don't want to get your family involved. So, deciding this is your best bet, you sit stoically. You look straight ahead, your focus unwavering.

"The silent treatment, huh?" You can see out of your periphery the man at the desk across the room stand from his chair. He makes his way towards you, but you pay him no mind, keeping your blank stare on the wall in front of you.

"If the threat's not enough to get you to talk, maybe this will be." He's quick to take the gun from the other man's hand, and before you can even flinch he's pointed it at your lower leg and let off a shot.

You choke on your own spit when the pain registers. You close your eyes and strain your body not to react, but there's only so much you can do. The tears you were successfully keeping at bay before now slide freely down your cheeks. Your hands are in tight fists behind your back, and you feel you may pass out from the white-hot pain radiating from your calf.

Your consciousness teeters, and all words being spoken by the men sound gibberish in your state. Just as you feel you may fall completely unconscious, you're startled by a loud bang from behind you. Your eyes lazily drift to the men, and you see their gazes widen before they quickly raise their hands in surrender. You make eye contact with the one that shot you, and that's the last thing you see before your eyes shut, your body and mind going completely numb.

~ ~ ~

The practice room door is flung open, bringing Chan out of his sleepy state. "What the hell? Be a little quieter would you," he mumbles, rolling his eyes at Jisung who stands in the doorway. For the first time since the news, Chan is attempting to get some sleep. It wasn't exactly on his own accord, though. After the constant hounding from the rest of the members, and even a threat from Felix that he'd sneak melatonin into his water, he decided it would probably be best for him to try and get some shut eye; he'll be of no use to anyone if he's delirious with sleep.

"They found her."

At this, all of Chan's previous drowsiness vanishes. He sits up from the couch faster than he ever has before, his joints cracking with such a sudden movement. "What?" he asks for clarification, fearing it might be too good to be true.

"They've found her. She's on the way to the hospital right now," Jisung's contagious smile makes more sense now, Chan wearing a similar expression.

"Where are the rest of the boys?" Chan stands from the couch in a rush, quickly slipping his shoes on.

"They're in the meeting room. They just bought our flight there, we're leaving now."

~ ~ ~

"Thank you," you tell the nurse, taking the small cup of water from her hands. It's been a few hours since you woke up from your unconscious state. Upon arriving at the hospital, they immediately took you into surgery to remove the bullet from your leg. Thankfully, it missed all the important stuff, leaving your bones completely in tact. You're left with some muscle damage, but the doctor assured you with some physical therapy you'd be back to normal again.

You're now laying in bed recovering. The wound has been stapled and is wrapped tightly. You have your leg resting on a couple pillows, hopefully to help prevent the swelling. Beside you on the couch is your family, having come in immediately upon hearing the news. Some silly K-Drama is playing on the T.V, but it's enough to keep your mind occupied for now, so you're thankful for it.

Nobody confirmed it for you, but you were sure your members were well on their way. Your family told you that you had been kidnapped for a few days. You told them you only remember being awake for a few minutes, but apparently they kept knocking you out again and again.

After talking with the police, you find that they were using you for ransom, and they kept knocking you out because they didn't have everything squared away yet; whatever that means, you're not quite sure.

As if on cue, the door to your room swings open, revealing Chan and Minho. They're out of breath and sweaty, looking as if they had just run a marathon.

You're given no time for formal greetings as they both launch themselves at you, throwing their arms haphazardly around you until you feel like you're squished beneath them. Your mom makes a protesting sound, but you wave her off with a gesture of your hand. They missed you, and you missed them. They weren't hurting you or anyone else by hugging you.

"You're never leaving our sights again," Chan says, his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

"Never ever," Minho agrees, his torso laid lightly across your lap.

"I'm okay-" you start, only to be cut off by an angry looking Chan. His face pops into view at your words, eyebrows furrowed.

"You are indeed not okay! You were kidnapped, unconscious for hours on end, and then shot! How are you possibly trying to convince us that you're ok?" Minho stands up at his outburst, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm alive, and that's okay enough for me."

With your response bludgeoned into their minds, they both collapse on top of you in another hug.

You bask in their warmth a bit longer, only being interrupted with the door creaking open. Felix and Hyunjin stand there, teary and red-eyed.

"Your time's up," Hyunjin sniffles, moving out of the way of the door so the two can exit.

"We'll be back," Chan leans down to kiss your forehead while Minho grabs your hand, giving it an assuring squeeze.

They leave, and Felix and Hyunjin scurry in after them. They crowd around your bedframe, hesitant to even lay a hand on you.

"Hey," you whisper, reaching over to grab both of their hands, "I'm okay."

Hyunjin breaks down in sobs, and it only takes Felix a minute before he's right there with him. You let go of their hands and open your arms to welcome them in for a hug. Both of them hesitate again, but eventually bend down to give you the gentlest hug you've ever received.

"Does it hurt?" Felix mumbles, his arms tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

"They've got me on some serious meds, so no. It probably will when I come off of them, though. I haven't tried to walk-"

"And you wont either. Not for a long while," your mom cuts in from the couch.

"Thanks for your input, Mom."

"No problem," her gaze shifts to the boys, "She's been moody since she came out of surgery. They say it's because of the meds." They both let out a huffy laugh at that, and while you're absolutely dying to argue, you're just thankful to see Hyunjin and Felix smile.

There's another knock at the door, and all your heads snap to Changbin and Jisung. "Our turn," Jisung says, gesturing for Felix and Hyunjin to get out.

"We'll see you soon," Felix says before making his way to the door.

"Love you," Hyunjin says, hugging you for a second longer.

"Love you, too," you tell him, and you watch as he gets up and walks toward the door.

Once they're gone, Jisung and Changbin come into the room.

"Chan is never letting you out of his sight again; you know that, right?" Changbin asks, pulling up a chair beside you.

"Uh, not just Chan, all of us," Jisung argues. "You know how when girls go out they all have to, like, go to the bathroom together? That's about to be us bestie."

"Um, ew," you grimace just thinking about all your privacy being stripped from you.

"We'll wait outside, of course," Changbin says, trying to make you feel better.

"Oh, how thoughtful," you sass back, giving them a sarcastic smile.

"But for real though, are you ok?" The atmosphere turns serious at Jisung's inquisition. "We were all worried sick about you."

"I guess I could be better, but I'm gonna be just fine. Doc said some physical therapy and I'll be good as new."

"Did you know they didn't even realize you were an idol at first?" Changbin says, piquing your interest. "They said they thought they just picked up some random person at the cafe. Apparently that's why they kept you knocked out for so long; it made things more complicated."

"I did not know that, actually. The police only gave me a quick run down, said they'd be back later for some more questioning and to give us some more information."

Another knock is heard at the door, and you look to see Seungmin and I.N standing there, the last of your boys. "Our turn now, move along," Seungmin says, tapping his foot impatiently.

"That's our cue, we'll see you later." They both lean down to give you a kiss on the cheek before walking out of the room.

Seungmin and I.N come in, seeming even more urgent than Chan and Minho did earlier.

They both come crashing down on top of you, all concern for the wires attached to you out the window.

Wanting to tease them, you say, "What if I was, like, seriously hurt? And now you two just came running in here like a pack of wild animals?"

"Give me a break, everybody said you were fine and that you were accepting hugs," Seungmin throws back, giving you a firm poke in the side.

You bark out a laugh at that, a smile gracing your features. "They also said that you hadn't smiled yet. So there," Seungmin nuzzles his head back into your shoulder, and you feel him breath a sigh against your neck.

"We missed you," I.N says from the other side where he's latched onto your arm.

"I missed you guys more."

"Not possible, I'd never seen any of the guys so worked up before. Chan didn't sleep the whole time you were gone, and as soon as we convinced him to, they found you," Seungmin says.

"Well, I'm here now," you comfort them, rubbing a hand on each of their backs.

"And we're never letting you go again."

~ ~ ~

Part 1

[thatgenericwriter]

When Time Stops || Gregory House

Paring: Gregory House x gn!reader

Summary: reader is at home when they get a surprise visit

Warnings: angst, cussing, mentions of blood, guns/gunshots, wounds

Word Count: 1K

P.s. based off of season 2 ep 24 also requested by anonymous

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The frantic pounding on the door to your apartment woke you from a blissful slumber. Groggily leaving your's and House's shared bed, you clumsily walk to the door. You let out a small swear as you slam your knee into the small table by the door before opening it.

You are met with the flushed face of one of House's ducklings, Chase. You and Chase had a pretty good relationship almost like siblings in a way. You had seen him with almost every expression on his chiseled face, but you had never seen him with this much worry, fear, or anxiety.

His face softened slightly at the sight of your messy hair and skewed pajamas before returning to his worry filled expression. "House has...he's been...he...House was shot."

It felt as if time itself had stopped. Chase was still talking, probably trying to calm you down, but all you could hear was the rapid heartbeat in your ears.

'How is this possible? Shot? Shot! How could he get shot in a hospital!? Is he okay? What if...what if it's fatal?'

Your spiraling thoughts distracted you from Chase grabbing your shoes and a bag of essentials. You only noticed you were walking when Chase opened the passenger door of his car for you.

He gently guides you into his car and clicks your seatbelt in place before jogging around to the other side. You blankly stare out of the window, your leg constantly bouncing anxiously.

Time passed so slowly. It feels like an eternity had gone by before you finally pull into the hospital parking lot. Before the car even fully stops, you are jumping out and practically sprinting through the hospital to the OR where you know House will be.

Just as your about to sprint through the doors leading to the OR, you feel a pair of strong arms hold you back. They pull you towards their chest, holding you close in their arms you hear them start to whisper in your ear.

"House is going to be okay. The bullet missed anything serious. He will live." Willson's reassuring whispers cause you to finally accept your reality.

Your knees buckle underneath you and James slowly lowers both of you to the ground. You turn in his arms and sob into his chest. He comfortingly rubs his hand up and down you back, whispering reassuring thoughts into your ear.

……

It’s been almost an hour since you arrived at the hospital. You're currently sitting in House’s chair watching as the cleaning crew cuts out the patch of carpet with House’s blood splattered on it. Bouncing his iconic ball between your hands trying desperately to stay calm as you wait to hear when and if House makes it out of surgery alive.

Although the bullet missed anything important, it still shattered inside of him causing the surgery to go longer than expected. You hear the door to the office open and you turn to look at who came through.

Cuddy stands there with a smile on her face. You feel your shoulders instantly relax and you stand up and walk into her expecting arms.

“Can I see him?” The momment Cuddy told you what floor he was on, you were sprinting out of the room. Frantically pressing the elevator button, you prayed that he was truely okay.

Standing in front of the doors that lead to his floor, you take a few deep breaths before opening the doors. There he is, looking annoyed even in a drug induced sleep. You slowly walk up to his bed, looking him over seeing the bloody bandage across his upper stomach. You were crying again.

You feel the tears streaming down your face. Tears of relief but also tears of anger. You were beyond furious. ‘How could someone do this to House? Your House? Why would they do this? Don’t they know he has a family here at work? That he has you?’ Your thoughts are interrupted by a series of ragged coughs.

You look over at the man who is lying in the bed next to House’s. He looks over at your tear stained face, then his eyes trail down and stop where your hands are attached to House’s hand.

“That bastard had someone waiting for him?” The confused look on your face made him let out a pitiiful laugh. “I shot House.” The world stoped once again. This time instead of feeling like you were drowning, all you could see was red.

Anger fueled you as you rushed over to the other bed. Before you can kill the man who shot your precious House, you're being restrained by large arms around you.

"You know, we have to stop meeting like this." Wilson slowly pulls you back over to House's bed.

The man in the other bed softly chuckles at you before going into another coughing fit. All you can do is glare at him and hold House's hand once again.

"Shouldn't he be awake by now? That bastard over there is! Why isn't House?" All Wilson could give you was a shrug, explaining that the anesthesia lasts differently for everyone.

.......

So you waited and waited and waited some more until you felt a slight twitch in his fingers. You look up at his face waiting for his eyes to finally open. And when they did, and he locked eyes with you, you started crying once more.

You feel his hand stroking your cheek wiping away the tears as they fall. You nuzzle your face into his hand, having a hard time believing that he's actually okay.

"Hey idiot, why are you crying? I'm obviously okay." All you could do was laugh at him. Even in the most serious of times he's still managed to be an ass. But he's your ass, and he's alive, and that's all that matters to you.

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Author's Note: hey so I know it's been a while and this request is from a very long time ago and that's my bad but I'm trying to get through these request and I'm trying really hard to not give in to the writer's block but I will be writing more I will be getting through these requests even if it kills me

[weskie]

Revenge and Recovery (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

reader is injured, hurt/comfort, shared shower, established relationship | Fic Directory

He isn’t there when you wake.  The doctors don’t know what to tell you other than that he brought in the best of the best to ensure your recovery went as smoothly as possible.

Three days go by until you’re discharged with just aches and pains and a couple bandages over your healing gunshot wound.  Your assailants hadn’t wanted to kill you, clearly.  If they did, they’d have aimed better.  You were simply a message.

You’d half expected to find Wesker in his office, but something in your gut told you he was nowhere near home.  Probably worlds away, if you had to guess.

The first few days are the worst.  Waking up in fits of pain, sweating, breathing labored as you struggle to sit up to take more pain medication.  Silly you, letting the aches catch back up to you.  It’s difficult to do much of anything, but you persevere.  You take it day by day.

By the end of the week, you can lift your arms above your head without the stretch feeling as if you were ripping in two.  You have more energy to do the things you enjoy, so you spend your time inside Albert’s study, reclined on his couch as you scribble away in your sketchbook.  You feel most comfortable here since everything happened.  It’s like you’re surrounded by him, by the man you know would protect you with everything he has even if he isn’t necessarily there to do it.  You can only imagine the guilt he’s felt since you were attacked.  Not that it was his fault for being absent.  He’d been called away over a client attempting to back out of a deal and was attempting to rebuild the bridge to his dreams.  You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him.

The scratch of your pencil becomes like white noise as you fall into your drawing.  The more you think of Al, the more your work begins to shape itself into him.  The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the shimmer of his cat-like eyes.  You’re not the world’s most talented artist, but you’d dare to say you captured his likeness quite well by the time you’re nearly done.

“You’ve got my nose all wrong,” comes a voice from behind you, startling you to jump halfway out of your skin.  Your mostly healed injuries protest such sharp movements, but the recognition of that voice dulls every ache.  When you turn around, you don’t care at all how badly your body complains.  You throw yourself at him entirely.

“Al!” You gasp, tears welling in your eyes.  You squeeze him tightly, as if letting go would allow for him to fade away like smoke through your fingers.  His arms around you bring you back to earth.  They make you feel safer than ever.

It’s only as you relax that you notice something is off.  He smells… smokey.  There’s a hint of something else, and your eyes go wide when you finally pull away to look at him.

Soot stains mark his face, but not nearly as much as the dried, crusted blood does.  It’s all over him, practically from head to toe.  It stains his hair, coats his hands and forearms, the thickest areas of it crackle and chip along the folds of his clothes.

“You need never worry about them again, my dear.”  He murmurs, removing a stained glove to lift your chin between his bare thumb and forefinger.  “They’ve been put down like the feral creatures they are.”

You simply stare at him in wonder.

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen him stained in the blood of his victims, but it’s the first time it’s ever been for you.  You can only imagine what must have happened.  Perhaps he flew into a blind rage after getting you to safety and tracked down your assailants.  Or, worse, maybe he was entirely calm about it.

You imagine the latter would result in significantly more pain for the men who shot you.

The hands that hold you now likely ripped each of your attackers in two, pierced their flesh, tore the hearts from their bodies, but they hold you as though you’re no more than a delicate flower whose petals would fall away with a mere gust of wind.

He says nothing, but he does bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe you in.  After some time, you manage to tug him in the direction of the bathroom.  All you wanted was to snuggle him and feel safe while you drift off to sleep, but you wouldn’t dare let him end his day stained in the remains of those who’d wronged you.

The water no longer stings as it runs over your mostly healed wound.  A few stitches that hadn’t quite dissolved yet stick out in sporadic patterns, but it isn’t too terribly unsightly. Not that you think your sweet Albert would mind, knowing all that he’s seen in his line of work.  The cascade dribbles off his body and swirls pink at your feet, slithering down the drain.

He’s reluctant to let you wash him at first, but you swat his hands away from the shampoo bottle before he can even graze it.  This, of course, earns you a smirk and a chuckle.

“Really now?” 

Ever the gentleman, he leans down just enough for you to run your fingers through his hair without straining your injury.  The occasional patch of dried blood colors the suds the same shade as the rest had run.  You decide he needs another pass.  You can’t be too thorough, after all.

In return, he does all the same for you.  While he glides a washcloth over your body, his other hand ghosts the edges of your wound.  Wesker swallows, parts his lips as if to speak, but stumbles over his words.

“They… I made sure–” He pauses, jaw flexing.  “They suffered.” 

You know it’s killing him.  You knew it all along, but seeing it… Seeing it breaks your heart.  

“So did you…” You murmur, thumb stroking the edge of his jaw.  Wesker averts his eyes, hiding whatever reaction your words stir up, be it tears or simply the glow of his eyes dimming with sorrow.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart…”  If you’d only been stronger, faster, smarter, anything, the hurt on his face wouldn't be there.

There is precious little in this world he cares for.  Before you met him, Wesker seemed the type of man to disregard anyone and anything if it meant furthering his goals.  By some odd miracle, you became the exemption.  As you found yourself growing closer to him, a fondness the likes of which you’d never seen him express to anything appeared seemingly out of thin air.  One minute you were just another subordinate that he was, admittedly, strangely kind to, and the next you were the apple of his eye.

It doesn’t make the woe in his gaze any less painful.  Knowing what you mean to him makes it worse, actually.  That your life means that much, that your very existence is worth unmaking another’s…

“M’sorry I let you down…”

No sooner than the words leave your mouth is there a finger curled under your chin to redirect your gaze to his. “Impossible,” he rasps.  He leans down to press your foreheads together, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before releasing a shuddering breath.  “And you never will…”

For now, you two will bask in each other’s presence.  You’ll curl up together and revel in the momentary calm before your next inevitable storm. Such is the price you pay for the heart you call home.

[celaenaeiln]

Where Dick's compartmentalization came from and how it affects the family

What's special about Dick, is that people far older than him see him as an equal because he's able to understand them and keep up with them, and that takes a massive toll on his mental health. He's been acting like a mother, brother, and partner to people twice his age from childhood.

The thing that really hurts is that when Dick's parents were gone, he didn't get angry. He just got really, really sad. And even though he was sad, all he wanted to do was help Batman-help Bruce. He just wanted to help this sad, older man. So at a time when he was grieving, he couldn't even properly grieve because Batman was grieving harder than him. He put his feelings on the back burner so he could fix Bruce.

Dick is not happy right now. Not because of Bruce's response but he's just feeling overwhelmingly sad because his parents have died. Yet look at the way he acts. He forces himself to pretend he's happy to alleviate Bruce's guilt, stress, anger over the case he's in. He didn't want to be another thing that makes him sad. That's horrifying behavior for a child of 8.

What really astonishes me is that Dick was a child with the maturity of an adult-meaning-he delicately handled Bruce's feelings while being careful not to overstep and yet still adjusting his behavior. He never tried to lash out Bruce. Ever. He got mad once at Batman when everything became too much but once Batman revealed himself to be Bruce, he never let his anger out on him. Or anyone.

And that makes me so sad because this is a child.

Look at his size compared to batman-tiny!

But this small boy controlled his emotions so his guardian wouldn't feel hurt when he was the one grieving makes me want to cry.

Here's another version of Batman and pre-robin Dick that showcases Dick's emotional maturity from a small age.

In Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder-Dick's parent's died from a gunshot and Batman kidnaps Dick at the circus, before his parent's bodies have barely gotten cold.

Dick's response to the new situation and his parent's passing?

"No. Don't go there. Not now."

I can practically feel him compartmentalizing through the screen.

"Yes, Sir. I'll be brave."

He doesn't get a break. No matter the retelling of Dick's orgin story, Dick puts himself together to take care of the man that is supposed to be taking care of him.

But just as much of a toll this takes on Dick, it has a signifcant effect on Bruce too. Bruce cannot function if he knows that Dick isn't okay. I don't remember where but somewhere in the comics Bruce admits to resenting Dick for having amnesia. For not being with him. By him.

His reaction to Dick not remembering them?

The panel-where Dick screams at Bruce with tears in his eyes-it seems as though Bruce has them too. He's so heartbroken. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

In Road to Dark Crisis, Dick tells Jon

This is so true but the difference between Bruce and Dick is that while Bruce does it for his kids, he has no one to take care of him. So Dick stepped at an age far too young for it to be okay. I mean even therapists struggle with taking care of their patients problems and usually they're around the same age the patient. But Dick? No experience he took the entire job on his shoulders. Not only that but Dick acts as the whole family and titan's family therapist.

Tim

Tim goes to Dick about everything-every single one of his problems because they have such a good relationship. He tells him about his dad.

Not to mention the main thing he does for Tim

He puts his feelings and priorities on the back burner so he can take care of other people.

Jason

He takes care of Jason's emotional well-being. He tell him he's proud of him and validates him instead of putting him down like Bruce does.

Donna and Roy

The biggest reason why everyone loves Dick is because he accepts their mistakes and works with them and loves them instead of punishing them for it. They don't get that from anyone else. Especially Bruce.

That's another reason why he's so good with kids. It's because he has been designated to playing the role of the parent his entire life. So he gives them everything he has, welcomes them with open arms, takes care of them and makes them feel fixed. Even if it's at the cost of his own well-being. So that's why they fight but in the end also why none of them can let go of Dick. They need him.

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Mafia! BTS - They Are the Rival Boss Who Likes You (pt. 3)

A/N: I was completely unhinged when writing Jin, I'm just saying ... Jimin and Taehyung tho ...

Warnings: mentions of violence, weapons, abuse and trauma, sexual insinuation (dare I say smut?)

MASTERLIST

It has been a fortnight since you managed to escape your abusive relationship and it has been a fortnight since you moved in with M/N. You knew needed to find a place for yourself and yet there was none. You couldn't go back to your family or friends. Kang had them under surveillance in case you appeared at their doorstep and you knew he would kill both you as well as them if you did so. The first few days with M/N were the most difficult. You didn't know whether you could trust him; you felt like you were always threading on thin ice although there was no reason to. Every day grew easier and every day you became more comfortable around M/N. Although it has been months since you last felt any affection for Kang, you weren't sure whether getting involved with M/N would be a good idea after all that you have been through. You couldn't help it, though. The longer you stayed with him, the closer you became; getting to know him and being with him was so effortless ... M/N would not tell you anything about what was happening with Kang, though. Even if he thought he was protecting you, it did not drive you anything less insane.

Jin

The kitchen smelled fantastic with the fragrance of different dishes getting ready. You made yourself in charge of most of the meals, finding it was the least you could do for everything Jin has done for you. Although you have practically been confined to his apartment, Jin did everything in his power to make you comfortable and make you feel anything but trapped - if you even tried to contact much less stay with your family or any of your friends, Kang would know immediately. You did not care so much about yourself as you did for them and you would never do anything to put them in harm's way.

You were putting together the last bits and pieces when you heard a noise from the hallway. You thought it was Jin coming back early but when you approached the front door, it was the sound of struggles and muffled gunshots that you heard.

Your mouth parted in shock as your body began to tremble. You backed away from the door quickly and ran through the apartment. It was a skyscraper - there was no window you could jump through. You grabbed your phone at least before you ran for Jin's room. There has to be something, you thought, having been a part of this life for far too long. Your hands roamed the edges beneath Jin's bed, the bottom of his nightstand and the bed frame, where behind the headboard a heavy black gun fell into your hands. You had never held a gun before in your life but you knew more than enough.

The front door was opened by force and made you jump around. You slipped into the bathroom of Jin's room and closed the door behind you. There was nowhere to go but you were thinking fast. You had seen scenarios like this a thousand times in your head and in your nightmares. You opened the large bathroom cabinet and grabbed the towels and set them on one of the empty shelves beside the shower. You slipped inside the cabinet, fitting in painfully against the sink but you managed to close the doors, curled up with the gun to your chest. You texted Jin and put the phone on silent as small drops of sweat ran down your neck. You could hear the footsteps roam the apartment quietly, checking every room individually. You removed the safety lock on your gun, your finger resting snugly on the trigger as you stopped breathing entirely. The footsteps were in Jin's bedroom. Your eyes watered with tears but you blinked them away so quickly it was like they were never there in the first place.

The bathroom door opened.

"She's not here," said a deep male voice.

"He must have her in a safe house somewhere," said another man from Jin's bedroom. Your heart was beating wildly against your chest. Despite the men's words, you did not let down your guard. They could just be playing a trick on you if they knew your hiding place.

"Fuck!" cursed one of the men. He threw something against the wall. The gun in your clammy hands was wet from sweat. The cabinet was hot and let in little fresh air.

"Kang's going to be pissed when he hears," said the other and closed the bathroom door behind him, his voice muffled now.

"He's not going to be pissed, he's going to be pissed at us!" snarled the first and kicked something over.

"Fuck it, man ... Let's go," said the other before their footsteps began to recede. You listened carefully, the saliva in your mouth as thick as honey.

A bang echoed from the apartment, nearly making you pull the trigger. Your body cramped as shouting followed and more muffled gun sounds like the ones you heard from the hallway.

Your eyes widened. Jin.

You pushed open the doors of the cabinet, the cool fresh air giving you goosebumps. Your top stuck to your back and chest as you slowly turned the knob of the bathroom door. You peeked through the smallest crack but there was no one in the bedroom. You slipped from the bathroom, holding the gun with both hands as you hurried towards the hallway which led to the kitchen and living area. As you looked from behind the door of Jin's bedroom, you came face to face with an unfamiliar set of eyes. You rose your gun instinctively as did he, engaging in a nerve-wrecking staredown. Another figure appeared in your vision, a man lying by his feet with a bullet in the middle of his chest.

The young man lowered his weapon as you watched him closely. He had dark hair, an arm full of tattoos and a piercing in his lip. Behind him appeared Jin, his crisp white shirt blood-spattered. You lowered your gun, his gun, and allowed yourself a breath.

The other man left, tucking his gun behind his trousers. You let your own weapon drop to the floor. You wrapped your hands around Jin's neck as he pulled you into his arms with such force he feared he might break you.

"Thank god you are here," you repeated over and over again like whispering a prayer.

Jin tore away as his hands went to your cheeks and he kissed you without a warning. His soft lips moved against yours with longing so strong it knocked the breath out of your lungs. You responded immediately, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Are you okay?" Jin asked against your lips, returning for another and another kiss as you nodded. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled yourself close to his chest.

Jin could feel your top soaked with cold sweat, your body shivering against his as your hands remained balled around his shirt. He saw his gun on the floor, the Glock you must have found behind the headboard. You told him what happened and where you hid so that they did not manage to find you. It did not matter though because both of Kang's men were dead now, lying on the floors of Jin's apartment.

Jin kissed your forehead before more of his men arrived to take care of the mess. If you thought the apartment was bad, you found the rest of the building a massacre. Jin told you not to look but it was impossible to take your eyes off all the dead and wounded guards. All of them died because of you.

When Jin saw the look in your eyes, he felt his chest on fire with fury. Kang had his men tell Jin he was willing to negotiate but it was all just a distraction so that he could get to you.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe," promised Jin as he made you look at him. "And then I am dealing with Kang for good."

Namjoon

You have been staying with Namjoon for two weeks now. It was strange in the beginning; although your instincts told you to trust him, you weren't sure whether you could. But every day seemed better than the last even if you were practically under some sort of house arrest. It was not that Namjoon wouldn't let you leave; you simply couldn't or you would endanger not only yourself but everyone you would interact with. Kang had his people everywhere ... But so did Namjoon.

He did not want to talk to you about Kang, much less about his business and how this - how you - affected everything. You nearly got into a fight about it a couple of times but you backed off the last moment. You were already staying with Namjoon, eating his food, using his things ... It was only fair for him to set some rules about how he wanted to handle everything.

"Do you want to find a different place?" asked Namjoon out of the sudden, raising his gaze from his tablet as the two of you were reading together in the living area. Your eyes reached his as you found yourself frozen for a moment.

"Sure," you agreed although you could not help but feel even worse than you did just feeling indebted with him for staying at his place. After Namjoon said he liked you you could not stop thinking about it and even began harboring some feelings of your own. But he must have changed his mind as he got to know you over the past two weeks. You were always together if he was not at work or somewhere else; it was impossible not to get to know one another.

You could not sleep that night. You tried to find a solution, someone you could stay with. You had some money you had saved on your account but getting an apartment of your own was not an option, not until you found a job first. Besides, Kang would see your name registered beneath it and would find you in the blink of an eye. Then an idea occurred to you - your mom had a godmother that lived in the country.

You found Namjoon drinking coffee in the kitchen as he scrolled through the news and fought off sleep. Your heart weighed heavy in your chest when you considered your presence might be bothering him. You went straight to the point.

"I think I found a place to stay," you said as you joined Namjoon at the kitchen counter. "My mom's godmother lives up in the country. I haven't seen his in years but we were close when I was a child ... Kang can't possibly know that she even exists," you told Namjoon. His eyes admitted a strange shadow that showed everything else but relief or happiness.

"I only need to get in contact with her, but then ... " you began again but Namjoon still wasn't saying anything.

"I got you an apartment," said Namjoon finally. "It's under an alias. Kang won't know you're there."

"Why?" you blurted. If Namjoon lent you an apartment, that would mean you would still remained in contact.

"What do you mean why?" asked Namjoon calmly and took a sip of his coffee. He was anything but calm, though; you knew him enough by now to see that. You just didn't know what was happening.

"I thought you wanted me gone," you said without thinking. Namjoon looked at you astounded.

"I never said that," Namjoon stood up now, his whole body tensed.

"Why did you ask me to leave then?" you breathed, your eyes locked on one another.

"I thought you wanted to leave," said Namjoon honestly. His voice fell as he looked around the room, his gaze eventually returning to your eyes.

"Why would you even think that?" you asked gently although your stomach twisted into knots.

"I'm more than aware that I'm not the easiest man to be around," said Namjoon. He knew he was demanding, he knew he did not relax easily and let his guard down even when he was no longer dealing with work. He did not want you involved in the situation with Kang any more than you needed to be but it often led into arguments.

"You are to me," you assured and took Namjoon's hand. "I will never be able to pay you back for everything that you did for me even if I lived a hundred lifetimes, but ..." I love staying with you, you thought but did not have the guts to say it; you felt guilty enough as it was.

Namjoon's dark eyes flickered between yours, his lips parted as he watched you thunderstruck. His heart threatened to leap from his chest when you took his hand.

"Fuck," muttered Namjoon before he kissed you with such force you nearly stumbled but his arms went around your waist already, steadying you against his strong frame. Your hands rested against his chest as you recovered from the initial shock and responded with your instincts. Namjoon's lips felt so good against yours that they made your arms cover in goosebumps. Namjoon began pulling away but you followed him, not ready to break the kiss. Namjoon took your waist and sat you up on the counter, your arms wrapped around his neck.

Yoongi

Yoongi seemed more distant the past few days than you were used to. He was quiet by nature but staying with him was as effortless as if you were in your own home. That did not mean that you did not feel guilty about burdening him with your presence, especially these past few days. You kept thinking about solutions and ways that you could move out but you could not return home to your parents or any of your good friends - Kang knew all of them. That is until you remembered another person that might be willing to help you, someone your ex-boyfriend never met or even heard of.

When you finally gathered the courage to go talk to Yoongi, you found him asleep on the sofa, the TV playing a series he liked to watch. You turned it off before you took a blanket and placed it gently over Yoongi's sleeping frame. He looked exhausted. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his skin was more papery than it was pearly.

Yoongi did not want you to thank him in the beginning, for anything. But seeing him like this and silent and gloomy when he returned to his apartment, you knew you had overstayed your welcome.

You made dinner came evening; it was the least you could do for Yoongi to allow you to stay here for so long. You gathered all of the dishes on the dining table and went to grab some water and two glasses. When you returned, you found Yoongi leaning against the door frame, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His dark eyes moved across the table to you.

"I made dinner," you said with a small smile although you were as anxious as if you were carrying a nest of sleeping hornets in your chest. "If you're hungry."

"Thank you," said Yoongi and you sat at the table. You ate in silence for a while then broke it at the same time.

"This is delicious—"

"Are you okay?" you asked carefully. Yoongi's pitch black eyes locked on you as he chewed, a strange and absent look on his face. He did not think it showed as much.

He nodded and took another bite from one of the side dishes. You watched him, a pang of guilt ripping through your chest.

"I've ... I've been meaning to talk to you," you began as you set down your chopsticks. Yoongi raised his gaze to you, suddenly fully present.

"My mom's stepdad ... He lives in the country; he's moved there with my grandmother when she was still alive. We haven't spoken in a while but he's alone now and elderly. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I came to stay for a while - he might even welcome it," you told Yoongi, leaning your forearms against the table.

"You're leaving?" asked Yoongi, his brows furrowing into a frown. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"It's not ideal but I never mentioned him to Kang," you spoke your ex's name with difficulty. "I'm sure it will be better than staying here."

Yoongi stared at you, his frown only deepening as he struggled to understand what was happening.

"Did something happen?" asked Yoongi quietly, his voice deep and raspy in his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"Did I do something?" asked Yoongi again in all seriousness. His voice remained calm as he wanted you to speak freely.

"No, of course not," you said quickly, surprised he would say something like that. "I thought you'd be happy ..."

"Why would I be happy that you're leaving?" asked Yoongi genuinely.

You found yourself staring at him, staring at the dark circles beneath his eyes and how tired and absent he seemed these last few days.

"I just thought ... You seem so tired and I'm always here when you get home and you cannot rest in peace because I'm always bothering you—"

"You're not bothering me," Yoongi cut you off. "I'm glad that you're here whenever I come home."

"You are?"

Yoongi stared at you a while before he got up from the table and you did the same. He came around to your side and placed his hands on your cheeks before he pulled you into a kiss. Your eyes widened at first before they closed and you responded to the touch of Yoongi's lips. You could taste the traces of whiskey on him as your hands went to his sides, balling around the fabric of his black t-shirt.

You did not want him to pull away but he did, leaving you reaching for air. You slowly opened your eyes as you bit your lip to keep yourself from leaning in again.

"Don't leave," said Yoongi, his chest rumbling with the deepness of his quiet voice. He could not believe his eyes when he saw your gaze searching for his lips.

"I won't," you shook your head and stepped on the tips of your toes. You wrapped your arms around Yoongi's neck and kissed him ardently. He deepened the kiss as he took your waist and sat you on the edge of the table.

Hoseok

You were standing outside Hoseok's study, raising and lowering your hand like a robot as you tried to muster your courage and knock. You had to talk to him and the sooner you did the better you would feel.

You knocked and slowly opened the door.

"Do you have a moment?" you asked as you waited beneath the door frame. Hoseok was sitting in his chair behind the massive wooden desk that held nothing but his laptop, a computer, a stack of pens in a box and a decorative bonsai tree.

You have never been in his study before although he was always in and out of it when he was not actually at work. The room was bright and sunlit though, not at all dark and gloomy as you expected given the nature of his work.

"Come in," said Hoseok with a smile.

As you closed the door behind you, Hoseok was already on his way to the sofa next to the packed but organized bookshelf. He was very meticulous and it showed in most any aspect of his life.

You sat down beside Hoseok, not really knowing where to begin.

"You didn't have to knock, you know," said Hoseok smiling. You offered a small smile in turn but your gaze fell to your hands.

"I've been thinking ..." you began as you licked your dry lips. "I think it's time for me to go, Hoseok ... "I've been thinking and I ... I have an aunt that lives in the country - Kang doesn't know about her. My dad had a falling out with her years ago and I honestly haven't seen her since ... But given the circumstances, if I contacted her, I think she might let me stay for a while," you concluded, slowly looking up at Hoseok. He was listening patiently to what you had to say, his brown eyes never leaving you for a moment. The smile had drained from them, however, replaced by a frown and his lips forming a thin line.

Hoseok did not say anything for a while. He looked down at your hands before his eyes returned back to your face.

"You want to leave?" asked Hoseok quietly.

You stared at him as your heart jumped to your throat and beat harshly against it. You did not want to leave, not really. After the first couple of days, living with Hoseok was like living with an old friend. Sure, you couldn't go out or see anyone but that would have been so wherever you decided to wait out Kang's rage. Hoseok did everything, though, to make you feel as comfortable and free as he could. His building had a rooftop garden where you spent most of your time when it wasn't raining. When the weather was bad, however, you found books to read, meals to cook, movies to watch and even play board games. You could not believe it when Hoseok asked if you wanted to play Scrabble one rainy evening. One game turned into a tournament, which lasted until 2 am, and you had not laughed that much in as long as you could remember.

You managed a nod, "I think so ..."

"Did I do something?" asked Hoseok as his eyes studied your features.

"No, of course not," you said quickly and instinctively took Hoseok's hand. "I just ... I feel like I'm taking advantage of you and I will never be able to pay you back for everything that you did for me."

"Oh, sweetheart ..." said Hoseok as he scooted closer and caressed your cheek to make you look him in the eye. "You're not taking advantage of me ... I'm afraid I may be the one taking advantage of you ..." Hoseok's eyes followed his thumb that glided across your cheek.

You watched him not knowing what he meant.

"You don't have to go to your aunt," said Hoseok as he took back his hand, the softness of his voice hardening with resolution. "I will find you a place where you can stay while I deal with Kang."

You watched Hoseok. He thought you wanted to get away from him, that he was taking advantage of your company because he wanted you to stay. It could not be further from the truth, though.

Hoseok wanted to stand up to make some phone calls, but you were still holding his hand and did not let him leave. His dark eyes turned to your palm as he sat back down.

"I want to stay ... " you said softly as you looked into his eyes. "If you want me to stay."

Hoseok stared at you. Your heart beat wildly against your chest beneath his gaze. You threw all reason out the window in that moment and decided to trust your instincts. You scooted even closer to Hoseok, his wonderful fragrance giving you goosebumps. You leaned in slowly, observing Hoseok's body language in case your instincts were wrong. Hoseok's eyes lingered on your lips though as he reached for your cheek again, his thumb tracing your soft skin until it settled beneath your jaw and held it up to him. You closed the space between you as you found his soft lips and forgot to breathe altogether. Hoseok pulled you closer as you wrapped your hands around his neck, drawn to the warmth of his body. You have been thinking about this for days but never dared to act on it - you already felt bad enough as it was ... but now, in that moment, everything felt different.

"I will never ask you to leave," said Hoseok against your lips as his hands gently rested on your neck. "Everything that is mine is yours."

Jimin

Since the first night that you spent at Jimin's place, you have been staying in his room. You offered to take the sofa and there was even a guest room that you could take, but Jimin didn't mind in the least. You were sharing the same bed yet sleeping each on your own end. That is until one morning you woke curled up against Jimin's chest, his arms wrapped around you securely. You didn't realize it at first and only snuggled closer to your source of warmth and comfort, your hands slipping around Jimin's side as you inhaled the smell of his clothes. Yet when you realized where you were and what you were doing, a gasp escaped your lungs as you shot up in bed. Jimin woke immediately, one his hands grasping the gun attached to the bottom of his bed and the other instinctively reaching over you protectively.

"What is it?" asked Jimin when he saw the two of you were alone. "Did you have a nightmare?" his heaving chest was beginning to calm. Jimin stored the gun away.

Blush crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. "No, sorry, I just ..." you didn't know what to say really.

"What?" asked Jimin gently.

"When I woke up ..." you licked your dry lips and blushed even deeper. "We were sleeping together ... together together. I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable ..."

"You're not making me uncomfortable," said Jimin immediately. His hand was still resting across your waist. The closeness of his face made your heart pause.

"I've already stayed at your place for far too long and now I've even started invading your space when you're sleeping," you hid your face behind your hands before you ran your fingers through your hair. The small but sharp pang of guilt you had been feeling the first few days slowly but surely turned into a slash with a machete. You tried to at least give Jimin money for the groceries and clothes and other things that he brought you if you couldn't exactly move out but he wouldn't hear of it. It made it even more difficult for you as the two of you grew closer and you began to develop feelings for him.

"Maybe I was the one who pulled you closer," said Jimin quietly, his big brown eyes flickering to your lips for a split second but you noticed. Your already pink cheeks turned crimson as your gaze flinched to Jimin's lips as well no matter how hard you tried to control yourself. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest when Jimin inched closer. He looked you in the eyes just to make sure before his hand moved from your waist to your cheek. Jimin kissed you, his plush lips moving softly against yours. Your fingers went to his neck instinctively as you scooted closer but Jimin pulled away hesitantly as if he tried to pace himself. His forehead rested against yours whilst both of your eyes remained closed. You tried to kiss him again but Jimin pulled away.

"Y/N ..."

Another sharp pang of guilt slashed through your chest even though Jimin was the one who leaned in first. For a moment, you thought you misunderstood.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly although your voice held an urgency laced with genuine regret. The thought of making Jimin uncomfortable was killing you.

"What? No—," said Jimin quickly. "I'm sorry ..."

"You don't have to be," you reassured him but it was his turn to blush - a sight you couldn't have imagined in a million years. Jimin was always so self-assured that it made you believe he could never feel shy or embarrassed or any of the lot.

"No, you don't understand ... " said Jimin. When you saw the look in his eyes you suddenly realized what he was talking about. Your heart was beating loud; the thought both exited and scared you a little at the same time.

"I'll make some coffee, do you want some coffee?" you suddenly panicked as your face throbbed with heat. "I'll go and make some coffee," you decided and jumped from the bed. A part of you wanted to stay but another knew better than to rush into it.

You had to lean against the wall once you reached the kitchen, your chest heaving. You could feel your own heartbeat pulsating against your throat. You couldn't help but grin when you thought about the kiss, though, and the feeling of Jimin's lips against yours. The coffee almost spilled from your cup when you heard Jimin come into the kitchen. You were leaning against the isle, facing the coffee machine when he came around and poured himself a cup. You were looking down at your bare feet as you bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling.

"Would it be ..." you cleared your throat as the blush you only just got rid off returned to your cheeks. "Would it be okay if I kiss you again?" You glanced up at Jimin. You put your coffee cup on the counter and hugged your arms. He looked at you puzzled for a moment, then put away his cup as well. Jimin's hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed you passionately, nearly knocking the breath from your chest. A muffled yelp escaped your mouth but your arms locked behind Jimin's neck. You only deepened the kiss, unable to get enough and threw reason out the window. You had never felt this way before, this calm and comfortable and yet filled with excitement and butterflies.

Jimin lifted you up on the counter and kissed you with so much hunger it made your back arch against his grip. He pulled away then, his chest rising heavily.

"I can't ..." Jimin shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. You could almost hear the rest of his sentence - control myself. Despite your better judgement, you couldn't either.

"You don't have to," you breathed before you stole a soft but passionate kiss from his lips. Jimin's fingers dug into the softness of your waist as he pulled you even closer and your legs wrapped around his hips.

Taehyung

Every day since the evening Taehyung brought you to his apartment you could not stop thinking about what he said to you. Even if the two of you hadn't spoken about it since, it still lingered in the air like a fragrant perfume that you wanted nothing more but to wear. Still, you contemplated your relationship with Kang and how it all went wrong at some point. Some of the memories still made you wince in your sleep and sometimes, when you looked at Taehyung, especially when he was working, there was a formidable frown on his face that made your insides feel as if they had been dipped in acid. There were other times too, like in that moment when you were sitting at the breakfast table with him. Taehyung was drinking coffee and looking at his phone but you were looking at him: how his unstyled hair fell onto his forehead, the way he licked his mouth when a drop of coffee lingered on his lips. One of his arms was leaning against the table, flexed as it rested in a rectangular position. It was then when you noticed that Taehyung's sharp eyes moved from his phone and now watched you.

Your face flushed pink as you looked away quickly. You took your plate and your empty cup to the sink to wash them, shutting your eyes tight when you let the water run. Even before the benefit, you found Taehyung attractive although you would never act on it; you were still with Kang then and he made you feel less than comfortable even just with the thought of kissing him.

Taehyung placed his coffee cup in the sink, standing dangerously close to you. You thought he would go away but he kept waiting, his eyes never leaving you as you washed the dishes as quickly as you could.

"Do you need something?" asked Taehyung when you dried your hands. His closeness made your whole body feel as if you were on fire but you didn't want to move away. Taehyung's voice was quiet and smooth, truly asking if there was something you needed but did not want to ask him. You brought up the subject of staying with him one too many times, feeling terrible about not contributing anything financially, much less being able to find a place of your own - one that Kang wouldn't know about.

You shook your head and blushed even more the longer you stayed beneath Taehyung's gaze. You were about to walk away when he caught your hand and pulled you back.

"Y/N," he spoke with a cat-like laziness in his voice. "If you need something, you only need to ask." Taehyung held your wrist gently with one hand and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear with the other. Goosebumps rose on the back of your neck.

"Do you want something?" Taehyung rephrased, making your eyes snap up to his. Your cheeks pulsated with heat at the thought that Taehyung could see into your mind and know what you were thinking.

"What do you want?" said Taehyung. His voice grew darker and purring, his long arms trapping you against the counter. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat. For as much as you tried, you couldn't help but glance at Taehyung's lips. The strangest frown formed on his brows that sent shivers down your spine. You were caught.

"N-Nothing," you whispered and slipped beneath his arm. Taehyung caught your hand and spun you around as his lips crashed against yours. Your eyes widened before they shut tight, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Your fingers balled around Taehyung's t-shirt when he deepened the kiss and his arms wrapped around your waist. You couldn't remember the last time you felt like this - if you ever even felt like this; you couldn't have or you would have remembered.

A small whimper escaped your mouth when Taehyung sat you on the counter, his lips tracing down your jaw and to your neck. Your nails dug into Taehyung's sides when he left a mark on your skin with his soft lips. He kissed it again, this time delicately, when he was done. You were breathless when Taehyung's lips found yours again, kissing you softly now. Your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling as if you were in a dream. The tension slowly eased to comfort, settling the fireworks in your tummy to butterflies.

"The next time you want something, you just have to say it," purred Taehyung close to yours lips as his fingers tangled into your hair.

"Need," you mumbled quietly, your cheeks flushed with fever as you found his lips again.

Jungkook

All the while that you stayed at Jungkook's place, you couldn't help but feel closer to him every day. Seeing each other at benefits and other events was one thing, but spending time with one another every day and living together was a whole other. Sometimes you watched a movie together in the evening or cooked together, that is, Jungkook cooked and you assisted or simply watched from the counter. Still, the thought that you were taking advantage of him persisted in the back of your head at all times. On the other hand, you could hardly imagine living on your own again once all this would be over, no more sharing sleepy glances with Jungkook over breakfast and falling asleep knowing you'll see him almost the second you'll wake up.

It was strange at first. You weren't sure whether you could trust him but after breaking the ice, it was as if the two of you had known each other all your lives.

One day, Jungkook told you he needed to work late and you didn't pay it no mind. He often had to leave even on his days off to take care of one thing or the other. But that night, you couldn't fall asleep for the life of you. You tried to watch a movie to distract yourself but you couldn't stay focused either. When you began drifting off to sleep on the sofa, the sound of the door opening quietly was enough to wake you up. Only a small lamp was on in the living area but once Jungkook made it from the hall, you could see small dark stains on his shirt.

"Oh my god, what happened?" you gasped and sat up. Jungkook hadn't noticed you were in the living room as he was too busy trying to be quiet because he thought you were sleeping in your room.

"Y/N, it's fine," said Jungkook calmly when you hurried up to him. It was blood, you knew, but it wasn't his blood unless he had a nosebleed. You felt a sharp pain around your heart.

"What happened?" you asked again, this time more quietly.

"Nothing," said Jungkook just like you knew he would.

"Did you ..." you swallowed hard. "Was it Kang?" You looked up into Jungkook's dark eyes. He wasn't disclosing anything. But when your eyes fell to his hands, you saw Jungkook had bruised and skinned knuckles.

"Come," you asked and took his hand gently as you led him to the bathroom.

"Y/N, it fine you don't need to ..." began Jungkook when you took the first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. You weren't looking at him or he would see the tears in your eyes. You could never know if you were the reason he was in danger.

There were little cuts in Jungkook's knuckles where the blood disappeared when you washed his hands under cool water. You could feel the callouses on his palm and the pillows of his fingers. Jungkook was standing right behind you as you dried his hand with a soft clean towel, his warm breath tickling your ear. The scent of his perfume filled your nostrils along with a faint smell of cigarette smoke that lingered on his clothes.

You looked at the spattered dots of blood on Jungkook's shirt again. "Maybe you should change first," you suggested quietly. You couldn't stand seeing the blood on his clothes even if it wasn't his. It just filled your mind with endless scenarios and made you feel even guiltier than you already did.

You thought Jungkook would go to his room to change but he only pulled off his stained shirt and threw it over the toilet seat. You cheeks pulsated with heat as a sharp breath caught in the back of your throat. You looked away quickly before Jungkook offered you his other hand as well. You washed the cuts and the bruises and patted his rough hand dry. He let you use some antiseptic as well and some ointment before you gently wrapped his knuckles with a bandage.

"You didn't have to do this," said Jungkook once you were finished. You were leaning against the bathroom sink, watching the tattoos on Jungkook's arm as he stood in front of you.

Your eyes filled with tears again. You looked up at Jungkook but it was a mistake. A single tear slipped from your eye and you brushed it away as soon as it came but he saw it nevertheless.

"Why are you crying?" asked Jungkook, his voice almost breathless as he caressed your cheek with one of his bandaged hands.

"Did you get hurt because of me?" Jungkook's dark eyes shifted between yours as his lips parted. He had no idea how terrible you felt, how guilt was eating you inside out.

"Why would you think that?"

"If Kang—"

"It wasn't Kang," said Jungkook firmly as his brows furrowed into a thick frown. "Even if he was and he will be at some point, it's got nothing to do with you."

"But—" you tried to protest, allowing another small tear to escape your eyes.

"Y/N, shut up," ordered Jungkook although his voice was nothing if not caring. "I won't listen to his anymore." He leaned down and gave you a kiss. Your eyes widened as both of his hands cupped your cheeks. Jungkook pulled away, realizing what he had done only when he saw the look on your face. The sound of your loud heartbeat was almost deafening in the silence that settled between the two of you. Your tummy swirled with butterflies.

"Y/N—"

You cut Jungkook off with a soft and tender kiss. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you had to stand on the tips of your toes to reach him. Jungkook leaned down, allowing you to stand on your feet but his arms locked around your waist so firmly that he nearly lifted you off your feet. You deepened the kiss simultaneously before Jungkook lifted you up on the counter and stepped between your legs. You have been thinking about this since the first morning that you stayed with him; it all felt like a dream that you didn't want to wake from. The intensity of Jungkook's touch, however, let you know it was anything but a dream.

[raekensluver]

unraveling love

description: spencer reid breaks up with you, focused on the fact that he couldn't be the man you "needed" after his experience away in prison despite your reassurance.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

contains: angst, breakup, mentions of spencer in prison.

song rec: atlantis by seafret- "she said in my heart and in my head, tell me why this has to end."

w.c: 1.2k

an: only spencer reid could make it impossible to not hate him after a breakup....

spencer reid's eyes, once a warm shade of brown, had grown cold and calculating. his face, which used to light up at the sight of you, was now a mask of indifference. you watched him from the corner of the room, an old, tattered book clutched in his hand as he paced. the fireplace crackled, but it couldn't fill the silence that had stretched between you like a thick, impenetrable veil.

you swallowed hard, the words echoing in your mind like a gunshot. "what did you say?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling.

spencer stopped his pacing and turned to face you, his gaze unwavering. "i said, i don't love you anymore." his voice was calm, almost rehearsed, as if he had practiced the phrase countless times in his head.

you felt your heart plummet to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. the room grew blurry as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. "why?" you whispered, barely audible.

spencer sighed heavily, the weight of his decision etched into every line of his face. "it's not you," he began, the age-old cliche feeling like a dagger to your heart. "it's just that, after everything i've been through, i've realized that i can't be the person you need me to be."

you stared at him, the words not fully sinking in. "what do you mean?" you choked out, desperation clinging to your voice like a lifeline.

spencer's jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to you. "you know what i mean," he said softly, but with a firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. "i've changed. the man you fell in love with isn't here anymore."

you could feel the warmth draining from your body as his words sank in. "but, spencer, we can work through this," you pleaded, the tremble in your voice growing stronger. "we've been through so much together."

spencer's expression softened, a flicker of the man you once knew shining through. "i know," he said, his voice a little less steady now. "but some things are just…irreparable."

you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of the love that once burned so brightly within them. all you found was a sadness that seemed to consume him from the inside out.

his hand reached out to touch your cheek, but you flinched away, the gesture feeling foreign and painful. "you don't have to do this," you said, your voice cracking. "we can get help."

spencer's hand fell to his side, and he took a step back, the distance between you growing palpable. "it's not about help," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "it's about who i am now. who we both are."

you stared at the floor, unable to look at him. the room felt like it was closing in on you, the walls pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. "who are we then?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

spencer paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "we're two people who love each other, but can't be together," he said, his voice filled with a sadness that mirrored the pain in your heart. "i can't go back to being the person i was, and you deserve someone who can love you without all this…baggage."

you felt the room spin as his words hit you like a ton of bricks. "so, what now?" you managed to ask, your voice shaking with the effort of holding back the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you.

Spencer took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "now, we move on," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "we find a way to live our lives apart."

you looked up at him, the reality of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. "but, spencer," you protested, your voice thick with unshed tears. "i don't want that."

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know," he said, his eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to go on forever. "but it's for the best. you deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and i can't do that anymore."

you opened your mouth to protest, but the words got caught in your throat. you knew he was right. the spencer reid you had fallen in love with was gone, replaced by a man who was haunted by his past and the demons that lurked within him.

you felt a tear slip down your cheek, tracing a cold path down your skin. "i don't know how to do this," you admitted, your voice cracking. "i don't know how to let you go."

spencer's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, placing his hand on your shoulder. "i know it's hard," he said, his voice a gentle whisper. "but it's what we have to do."

you nodded, unable to speak as the first sob tore through you. spencer pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as you cried. the warmth of his embrace was a stark contrast to the coldness in his eyes, and you clung to it desperately, trying to remember the last time he had held you like this.

his hand rubbed circles on your back, his touch soothing despite the pain of his words. "i'm sorry," he murmured into your hair. "i never wanted to hurt you."

you nodded against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. it was a comforting rhythm that you had come to rely on, but now it felt like a taunt - a reminder of what you were about to lose. "i know," you whispered, your voice muffled by his shirt.

spencer held you for a long moment, his grip tightening slightly before he pulled away, a silent acknowledgment that this was the end. you took a step back, wiping the tears from your face with trembling hands.

his eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, for forgiveness. "i need you to be strong," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "you're the strongest person i know."

you nodded, trying to be brave, trying to be the person he needed you to be. but inside, you felt like you were breaking apart at the seams. "i'll try," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

spencer's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you were okay, but all he found was pain. "i'm sorry," he said again, the words feeling as empty as the space between you.

you watched as he grabbed his coat from the chair, his movements mechanical, as if he had done this a hundred times before. each step he took towards the door felt like a nail in the coffin of your relationship.

spencer paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob, looking back at you one last time. his eyes searched yours for any hint of anger or resentment, but all he found was a sadness that mirrored his own.

you forced a smile, the effort visible in the tremble of your lips. "goodbye, spencer," you said, your voice strong despite the turmoil inside.

spencer's eyes searched yours, a silent plea for understanding. then, with one final nod, he opened the door and stepped out into the cold, dark night. the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet emptiness of the room.

edited 8.20.24

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[gor3-hound]

LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE - JOEL MILLER

ft. joel miller x puppy hybrid!reader

a/n: i'm actually very proud of this fic ngl to you guys. been wanting to write for tlou for the LONGEST time and... you know i had to make my debut w joel :3 first time trying to dive into writing more than just smut, so lemme know what you think !! rbs and feedback always appreciated !! thank you @ama-szn for betaing x

cw: 18+ content, brief mention of sarah and guilt, grinding, p in v, creampie, grinding, slight cockwarming, praise, puppy gets used a lot... joel being snappy and a mild asshole at times, tail play???

word count: 4.1k words

Now, Joel isn't always the smartest guy around. He has a tendency to get a little blunt, to put it nicely, and he isn't the type to do charity work. Being nice has never done him any favours, so he sees no point in acting all buddy-buddy just for the hell of it.

In saying that, he's starting to think he has a problem collecting strays. It started with Ellie, and now he's starting to see a habit forming when he comes across you. By all accounts, he should have left you in the corner of that beat up store. You'd been a good enough distraction to the Clickers with your incessant whining that Joel could have snuck by undetected.

Well, like he said, he's got a stray problem — and it's hardly good manners to leave a girl in trouble when he can help out. He aims his pistol, frowns as you flinch at the sounds of the shots as he takes them down. Lucky for the both of you, there's only two of them, but he still uses way more ammo than he'd like.

Joel has to double take when he gets a good look at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he crouches in front of you. He has half a mind to put a bullet through your skull, but something about the way you look has him hesitating. You're a cute enough girl, a little scruffy looking, maybe, but cute nonetheless. That isn't what has him staring at you like you're some kind of exhibit, though.

"You got... are those fuckin' ears, kid?" He tries to keep his voice low, not only 'cause you're shaking so hard you're practically vibrating, but he doesn't want to find out if those Clickers had any buddies nearby. He tenses up slightly when he notices movement behind you, his brows furrowing as he squints to get a closer look. "Don't tell me that's a tail you're hidin' back there."

Your ears perk up slightly at the sound of his voice, your eyes flicking over his face as your whines die down. You lift the tail, showing off the dirt-ridden, matted fur before letting it flop to the floor once again, tilting your head to the side.

"I'll be damned... Now I'm seein' things." Joel is almost sure that you're a hallucination, or maybe he's finally snapped. He reaches out, pokes the tip of your right ear. It's hard for him to stop himself from frowning when the fur is soft and warm underneath his fingertips, the thing twitching under his touch. They sure don't seem fake. He isn't seeing things, you're real and you're sitting right in front of him. "Can you talk, girl? I'm startin' to feel like a crazy old man, here.”

You blink at him slowly for a moment, like you have to think hard about his words. You nod your head softly, your eyes not straying from him. Your voice is quiet when you reply, breathless and shaky. “Y-yeah… I can talk.”

"Well. That's somethin’.” Joel lets out a breath he didn’t realize he'd been holding in. There's a moment of relief that washes over him in a wave. At least he isn't going completely insane, unless he's hallucinating your voice, too. "We gotta get movin', girl. The gunshots would've gotten every infected for miles gatherin' round, we don't have much time before they come sniffin' around here to see what's goin’ on.”

You nod once again, pushing yourself to your feet. He can see your features a little better now, and he tries not to let his eyes linger on that tail of yours for too long.

You don't seem like much of a talker, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. At least you won't go yapping at him when he's gotta concentrate. It wouldn't do either of you any good if he went and got killed because you couldn't keep your trap shut. You're probably the quietest stray he's managed to pick up. Ellie can talk for hours when she gets going, which...is most of the time, if he's being honest. You're more cautious than she ever was, though, watching him carefully as he stands and takes a look around the room to gather supplies.

Joel checks back on you, not missing the way you're shivering. He frowns, taking off his jacket before holding it out to you. "Here, put this on.”

You don't take the jacket, or so much as answer him. His frown deepens, and he lets out a frustrated sigh, pulling the jacker over your shoulders. “It's just a damn jacket. It won't kill ya.”

The way you stare at him is starting to get unnerving, so he turns away from you to continue throwing anything of use into his backpack. Store's already been raided, though, so he seems to be left with the scraps. Just his luck — scraps and strays. All he ever seems to get.

“Thanks.” You end up saying softly after a moment, and when Joel looks back at you again, that little tail is wagging and you're wearing his jacket properly. He catches himself smiling, so he's quick to turn away, grabbing the map from his backpack before zipping it up. He's always had a thing for pretty girls in his clothes, but he's not gonna admit that.

“Don't mention it, kid.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

It's been about a week since Joel first saw you, and he's doing his best to keep his distance. You seem to settle in fairly nicely in Jackson — or, at the very lease, you fit in well enough with Ellie. Joel's having more than enough conflicting feelings around you to last a lifetime, and you're just a pup. You're already having to adjust to a new environment, you don't need someone like him confusing things.

That doesn't mean he can't watch you from afar, though. He's not sure he'd be able to stop himself if he tried. He can't help but watch as you and Ellie play together, noting how much brighter and happier you look since that day he saved you. Your tail wags so fast it's a blur behind you, your fur soft and fluffy now that it's been washed and brushed out.

Joel likes you more than he'd care to admit. He's already got enough people to worry about, between Tommy and Ellie, and everyone else in the damn community. He doesn't need to add you to that list.

Problem is, Ellie's gotten to know Joel, and she still hasn't grown out of being a little shit. As soon as she catches him sitting a little ways away from where she's playing with you, she decides it'd be real funny to throw the stick right at him. Joel barely has the time to catch the thing before you're on him, practically tackling in an attempt to get it from him.

“Alright… alright.” His tone comes out a little harsher than intended, and he can't help but feel bad as you shrink back, those fluffy ears pressing down against your head. Your tail stopped wagging, too, and you're giving him that kicked dog look. Makes him feel like a monster.

“Shit, I didn't mean-” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose after he sets the stick down, patting his lap for you to come closer again. He reaches out, scratching the base of one of your ears with a small smile. “You're alright, girl. Just… easy, yeah? No need to jump all over me.”

That seems to placate you enough, and all seems to be forgiven. You nod and lean into his touch, that cute tail of yours picking up tenfold. There's something oddly soothing about petting you, so he decides to indulge you a little, leaning back against the porch railings as he sits on the steps.

It isn't until he notices your droopy eyes and the way you're slowly inching closer to him, practically curled up on his lap, that he realizes the sun is setting, and he wasted most of the day with you. He can't bring himself to mind.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

What is it they say about stray dogs? You feed them once, and they're yours? Joel can't recall, but he's sure he's somehow managed to adopt a little pup with how you cling to him. He tried locking you out of his room one night, and he couldn't sleep with the way you clawed at the door, whining and whimpering to be let in.

You sleep with him now, and he can't say he dislikes the warmth your body brings when he curls up with you every night.

He's got his arm curled around your waist, that fluffy tail of yours resting between his legs and still somehow wagging as he spoons you. He can't help but rub little circles into your stomach with his thumb, his nose pressed against the nape of your neck. For a moment, he finds himself wondering how receptive you'd be if he started kissing the skin there, letting his breath ghost the spot where your baby hairs rest.

That's a dangerous line of thinking, one that he quickly snaps out of. He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes to try and get some rest. You must sense that he's tense, cause you start wriggling around in his arms until you're facing him.

“Joel?” You breathe out, nuzzling his neck with your nose. He can feel your breath on him, and he grits his teeth not to make an audible sound as you lick at him. It's supposed to be a comforting gesture, but it has him squirming for a whole number of reasons.

“I can feel you worryin’, pup. You ain't gotta stress about me.” He murmurs, gripping your hair gently to pull your face away from his neck. He can't focus with your tongue on him like that.

“You look sad.” You whine, pulling against the grip of his hair to keep licking at him. He knows you're just trying to cheer him up, but it's really not helping the way his dick is starting to swell. It's not your fault, you don't know what you're doing to him, but he feels sick letting himself get turned on by your innocent actions.

“Just - go to fuckin’ bed, alright?” He snaps, tugging you away hard enough he knows it probably stung a little. His mouth grows dry, an apology on the tip of his tongue as he watches you retreat, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“C'mon, girl. I didn't mean that, I just…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, his features etching into a frown. “Look, just… c’mere, alright? I'm sorry.”

He shifts so he's lying on his back, doing his best to make sure you don't press up against him when he's in this state. He holds an arm out, and you come rushing forward, tucking yourself against his side. You really are like a dog, always running back to him. He doesn't like how it makes him feel.

His jaw tenses as he shuts his eyes, trying to block out the guilt festering in him as he feels wet tears against the front of his shirt. He can hear your quiet sniffles, but he has no idea how to comfort you, so he doesn't.

Joel does what he does best — pretends the issue isn't there. He scratches behind your ears until you drift off, but sleep doesn't come for him that night. He spends the rest of his time staring at the ceiling, waiting for the morning sun to come through the widows before he carefully removes himself from your slumbering form.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, tucking the covers around your body before he leaves the room. What he needs right now is a cold shower and a little hunting trip with Tommy to keep his mind off of things.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

The first thing he's greeted with after returning from his supply run is a sobbing pup. He didn't expect to see you so worked up — barely giving him enough time to dismount his horse before you were clinging to him, ears pulled back on your head and tail limp as you cried into his chest.

“Hey… hey, now. What's the matter, girl?” He whispers, dropping his bag to the floor so he can hug you back, one hand sliding down your back to scratch the base of your fluffy tail. “C'mon, now. I wasn't gone for that long, was I?”

“You didn't say bye.” Your words are muffled against his chest, that whiny tone still in your voice, but he can see the way your tail starts moving at his touch. Makes him feel a bit better about leaving you so suddenly. “You always say bye…”

“I didn't do it on purpose, sweetheart. You were sleepin’.” He says with a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement as you pressed against him. Felt like you were trying to become a part of him with how desperately you attempted to get closer.

“But… you were gone, and… I didn't know where you went.” You whisper, hands gripping onto his shirt tight enough that the fabric stays wrinkled when you let go in favor of hugging him.

“Doesn't mean I was leavin’ you. Just had to get some supplies.” He replies, even if it's technically a lie. It can never hurt getting some more stuff, but a group only went patrolling the day before he left. He did need the time away from you, to clear his head. He just couldn't let you know that.

“And, hey. I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. I even got you a lil’ somethin’.” He says after a moment, grabbing your shoulders to pry you off of him. He ignores the ache in his heart at your little whine in favor of unzipping his bag, holding something up and squeaking it.

Your eyes light up at the sound, and he really can't help the smile that spreads across his face at the sight. He throws the squeaky ball and watches you chase after it, laughing when you return with it in your mouth, biting down over and over to hear the noise.

“There we are. That's my girl.” He murmurs, ruffling your hair before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you against his side. “C'mon, let's go and find Ellie. We got some catchin’ up to do, don't we?”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Joel must be getting soft with old age. That's really the only explanation for what's going on. He's letting you sit on him like you're a damn lapdog all because you looked like you wanted a cuddle.

You look so damn cute, too. That tail of yours is going to be the death of him. Joel's heart does not flutter when you smile all prettily at him, nor does it flutter when you rub your face against his neck like you're trying to get his scent all over you.

No. Joel's heart is as cold as ice. He doesn't get warm, fuzzy feelings from cute puppy hybrids, and he certainly doesn't clear his throat to stop himself from saying something unbelievably sappy and embarrassing.

“You comfy there, darlin’? Like havin’ me take care of ya?” He murmurs, not missing the way his breath catches in his throat when you hum in agreement, licking at his skin. You don't seem to notice, so he doesn't mention it. Small mercies.

Maybe it's the whiskey, or maybe it's the way your warmth seeps into him and makes his heart race that has his brain malfunctioning, but he can't stop himself from saying what's been on his mind the past few weeks.

“You're such a pretty girl…” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against your hairline before pressing a gentle kiss there. His hands slide down to your waist, giving you a little squeeze. “So fuckin’ pretty. My pretty pup, ain't ya, sweetheart?”

That tail picks up again and he chuckles, sliding a hand down your back to scratch the base of your tail, tuning in to the steady thump, thump, thump of it slapping against his thighs. He gives your tail a little squeeze, stroking his hand over the fur.

“Ain't no hidin’ how you really feel with a tail like that.” He says with a small laugh, eyes locked onto the way your tail moves as he leans forward, pressing kisses down the side of your throat. He grins against your skin as your tail starts wagging faster, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh.

“Yeah? Y’like that, puppy?” He coos, the hand on your tail shifting to grab your ass, giving the plump flesh a little squeeze. The feeling of it has him groaning, his cock already starting to fill out. It's been a long, long time since he's gotten laid, and he'd be lying if he said he hasn't been having some conflicting feelings surrounding you as of late.

All he gets is a whine in response, your body shifting just a little closer to him. Joel grabs your hips, pushing you down against his lap so he can grind up against you, a grunt spilling past his lips. He glances back at your tail, rutting against you with more force when he sees the steady wag, the sight of it making his cock twitch with interest.

“God. Good fuckin’ girl.” He breathes out, rocking you against him for another minute before it gets too much for him. He can feel you soaking the fabric of your shorts, and he’s starting to get a little dizzy with all the blood in his body rushing south. He’s so hard it hurts, and he can’t help himself as he tugs off your shorts and underwear in one tug, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking his boxers down just enough so he can free his length from the constricting fabric.

You’re so wet he can sink into you in one thrust, holding you steady as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly as he takes a moment to catch his bearings. He presses his lips to the skin there, trailing kisses along the column of your throat. You’re so wet and tight and warm, and it's a struggle for Joel not to blow his load early with how much you’re squeezing around him.

”Pretty, pretty girl. You’re doin’ so well.” He murmurs as he starts to thrust up into you, the sounds of your little gasps and moans making his head spin. His grip on your hips tightens so he can guide you up and down his length, helping you move with every drag of his cock. The room fills with slick sounds as he fucks up into you, his head tilting back as he lets out a breathy moan.

He leans forward to kiss you, swallowing your whimpers as he slides his tongue into your mouth. The taste of smoke and whiskey lingers between the two of you, his teeth biting down on your bottom lip to give it a little tug before he pulls away, running his tongue over his teeth. He starts to bounce you on his cock, grunting as your walls flutter around him as he pounds into you. He reaches around to grip your tail, tugging on it to encourage you to keep riding him. His fingers play with the fur there, the upper half of your tail continuing to wag where it’s free from his hold.

”Makin’ such a mess, sweetheart. Soakin’ my jeans.” He huffs, grinding his tip against your sweet spot before he pulls you up by the tail, leaving only the tip of his cock in before yanking you back down with a groan. You’re so wet you’re dripping all down his shaft, soaking his balls and making the fabric bunched up beneath them wet with arousal.

”Gonna make you cum for me, pup. Then I’m gonna fill you up. You want that, girl?” He grits out between thrusts, brows pinching together as he watches you nod eagerly. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning too loudly as his words make your cunt clench around him, trying to milk him dry.

”Alright, alright. I got you, doll.” He lets go of your tail, grabbing your hips to bury himself to the hilt inside of you. He adjusts the both of you a little so he can make you grind against his pelvis while keeping him nice and deep. He rocks your hips, making you grind your clit against his happy trail, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment at the friction the movement brings.

”Shit-“ He hisses as he feels you tensing around him, your orgasm sending him over the edge right after you. His jaw clenches as he shoots ropes of cum deep inside of you, his body slumping against the couch when he’s left spent and twitching inside your needy cunt.

”Just…” He starts after a moment, hands moving to rub up and down your back gently, coaxing you to lean against him. “Stay like this for me, yeah? You did good, pup. Such a good girl.”

He relaxes when you snuggle up to him, his softening cock nestled deep inside of you. There’s something oddly comforting about it, and it’s not long before he’s got his face buried in the crook of your neck, slowly dozing off as he runs his fingers through the fur on your tail. He thinks he could get used to this. He’s really starting to like having you around.

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Joel's gotten into the habit of leaving you with Ellie when he has to go on those long patrols. He's never sure if he's gonna make it back, and there's no one in the world he trusts with you more than Ellie. He knows if something went wrong, the two of you would look after eachother, and that's enough to lessen the gnawing anxiety building in his chest whenever he has to leave.

Last thing he expects to see when he pushes open the door to his room is you and Ellie sleeping all curled up on his bed. It catches him off guard for a moment, but it's not long before a small smile breaks its way onto his face. He brushes some hair out of Ellie's eyes and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, giving you a small scratch behind the ears.

He sneaks his way out of the room, settling himself on the couch. He knows his back’s gonna be protesting the sleeping arrangement, especially after slumming in the past few days on the ground, but he can't find it in himself to care. He curls up awkwardly, letting out a grunt when his too-big frame can't fit fully on the couch.

Despite his discomfort, he feels content for the first time in a long while. He hasn't felt this kind of happiness since Sarah. For once, the thought that he could be happy without her, no matter how much he mourns her, doesn't fill him with dread. The guilt is still there, the thoughts of 'what if', but he lets himself feel them. He knows they're never gonna leave him, and there's no point trying to force them away.

He never wants to forget Sarah, to replace her. There's always gonna be a massive space in his heart that's taken up by her, and there's no one that's gonna change that. But for once, he thinks he's happy with the little family he's got. The strays he's collected. He knows he can honor her memory by doing his best to survive, act like a dad she could've been real proud of.

Joel isn't a very religious man, but he knows he'll see his daughter again, one day. He cries himself to sleep that night, but for once the sobs that rack his body aren't filled with dread. It isn't him giving up, sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

They're tears of exhaustion, yes. But also relief. Hope. He can start again, live his life how he should've been these past few years. Really live, instead of just forcing himself to keep pushing through. Not just for you, but for Ellie. Tommy, too.

His family.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 1 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: this work has been quite a while in the making and im very excited to finally share the first chapter! a huge thank you to the wonderful josie for being my beta reader and listening to all my rambling <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 1 - The Before

‘‘I will be very sad to leave here’, Yves said, suddenly. ‘I have never been happier than I have been in this house.’ ‘I have been very happy too. I wonder if we will ever be so happy again.’’  - Another Country, James Baldwin

You’d been on the run for what felt like weeks but could only have been days when you found the gas station next to an abandoned mall. It had looked promising, the half-rotten advertisements plastered to the walls, reminding your stomach that it had gone far too long without a proper meal, or any meal for that matter.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so starved or so tired, you would’ve heard them coming, the Infected that stormed through the back door practically the moment you slipped into the building. A yell escaped your throat, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife you kept buckled to your leg. You didn't even get the chance to pull it out of its makeshift holster before the creature was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with what felt like inhuman strength.

“Fucking- get off-” you grunted, but even if the thing on top of you had been one that listened to commands, your thin and shaky voice likely wouldn’t have impressed it.

So this was how you were gonna go out. In a town you couldn't even name, somewhere in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, after finally escaping the life you’d been stuck in for so long. You hadn't even made it a month.

For a second, you considered trying to reach for your gun, still tucked into your pants and pressing into your back uncomfortably. You could feel its outline against your skin, a pain shooting through your spine as the Infected seemed to double its effort to reach your neck with its mouth, half-rotten teeth close enough that you could recognize the foul smell of death.

Then, the gun went off. Or you thought it did. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang in your ears as the Infected collapsed on top of you. But the feeling of your pistol pressing into your back was still there. It had been a gun. But not yours.

“I got her!” a voice above you bellowed out, an unmistakable southern drawl. “Tommy, give me some cover here, goddammit!”

You hadn't even noticed the second man, who was now aiming his gun at another runner storming towards him. He fired, once, twice, and the Infected let out a howl before its body hit the tiled floor with a thud.

“Hey, you with me?” The man above you leaned down, shoving the Infected that had been on top of you to the side unceremoniously. He was dressed in a worn jacket, jeans and boots, the latter two splattered with blood. His right hand, covered in a weathered leather glove, was stretched out towards you, an invitation to, well, you weren't exactly sure.

“She good?”

The second man approached the pair of you, your eyes flying over to him for a split moment. He was dressed similarly, except that he looked a little younger than his partner. He shouldered his rifle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Your gaze flew back to the man in front of you, to the brown eyes that carried an unexpectedly gentle look, not quite matching the gruff way he looked. Shaking slightly, you placed your hand in his, and the next moment, he was pulling you to your feet.

“There you are.”

You nodded, a motion that looked more like your head was jerking on its own accord. But the man seemed to accept it. As the other one stepped towards you, the taller of the two men spoke again.

“You clean?” When no response came, he pressed on, his tone getting a little more impatient. “Did it bite you? Scratch you anywhere?”

The other one gently placed a hand on his chest, forcing your attention onto himself. “Can you walk? Our horses are two houses over, we've got a place where you can rest, get some food-”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you blurted out. You'd had your fair share of people, of men offering you ‘help’ and it never stopped there. There was payment, always. In this world, it was stupid to think there wouldn't be, that anyone would help you out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You're not going anywhere else by the looks of it, either,” the man with the gloves muttered, more than loud enough for you to hear. “You won't last a week.”

“I've lasted longer, asshole,” you shot back, suddenly angry at the stranger in front of you. He didn't know you, he didn't know the things you'd gone through to get here. So what if he had saved your life? It didn't give him the right to predict your death.

The other man nudged his ribs, extending his hand to you as well, though it was more of a formality this time. 

“Name’s Tommy. The asshole is my brother Joel.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about how to approach this the right way. “Look, I'm sure you've been traveling for quite some time. We can give you a place to recover. You can leave anytime, I promise.”

You eyed him carefully. It did sound too good to be true. But it also did sound- good. A roof over your head, warm food in your stomach- two things you'd been craving for quite some time.

“Okay.”

The man who had introduced himself as Tommy gave a short nod and led the way to the horses, following tracks in the snow the two men had left while coming to your rescue. Joel pulled up the rear and you had a feeling that his eyes were trained on you, watching carefully, maybe for a twitch or anything else out of the ordinary. Again, you weren't sure why, but it made you angry.

“I told you I wasn't bit,” you repeated in his direction as Tommy began untying the horses. 

Joel raised a brow, clearly surprised by the attitude in your voice. “‘ts what they usually say.”

“Well, I'm not,” you replied, turning your back on him and focusing on his brother instead. Tommy pretended not to have heard either of you but somehow you were certain he had.

“C’mon, you can ride with me. It's not too far.”

Not too far turned out to be a good hour, the crisp autumn air making you shiver, and you were thankful for the warmth of both the horse and Tommy. But what the ride lacked in temperature it made up for in views, the sun coming out just as you passed the first sign that read ‘Jackson County’.

You didn't even mind Joel's occasional glances towards you as much, finding that with the sunlight playing in his brown curls, his look screamed less of danger and more of concern. Whether it was concern for Tommy or you or something entirely different, you weren't sure.

The answer came to you in the form of your housing arrangements. After getting over the first shock of riding up a busy mainstreet in what looked like an actual, functioning town, a thing you hadn't thought possible anymore, you had made use of what must have been the first functioning toilet you'd seen in months. You felt like a child being steered through the crowd at a busy carnival, if the food hall, the functioning plumbing and electricity and the music drifting from one of the smaller shops was any indication.

“You know we ain't got any unoccupied places and Maria and mine’s no good with the baby screaming all night,” Tommy muttered urgently and you frowned a little. The two men were standing a few feet away, clearly unaware that you were already back and you awkwardly shoved your hands in your pockets, considering going back inside for a moment. But then Joel opened his mouth and you couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. The older man seemed as much a mystery as the entire scene around you.

Tommy piped up before Joel even had a chance to argue. “It's just for a couple of nights. I’m sure Ellie and you will manage. You take her in, explain the basics and as soon as we got a place, you can go back to shutting yourself off from every goddamn person in this town-”

“I don’t-” Joel interrupted before shaking his head, a low grunt leaving his throat.

“Fine. Until Thursday, no longe-” He broke off at the look on Tommys face, one that was aimed directly at you. You shyly nodded in his direction and closed the distance between you in a few quick steps. 

The younger man cleared his throat, giving you a reassuring smile. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied politely. You hated how forced the conversation felt, already regretting listening in on it at all.

“Joel here’s gonna get you settled for the night, you let him know if you need anything else. I'll stop by in the morning and introduce you to Maria, she’s-”

“The boss,” Joel finished for him, earning a small glare from Tommy. 

“One of our elected leaders,” he corrected, another smile playing around his lips at the mention of what you assumed must be his wife. “Well, I'll leave ya two to it.”

Joel took you home. He still gave you that look, and with Tommy gone, you could be sure that it was actually aimed towards you. It was like he was still on guard but whether it was of you or something else, you couldn't tell.

“Here's how this is gonna go,” he started as he fumbled with the front door of the house clad in white. “You get a quick check-up, a shower, some fresh clothes- you get the idea.”

“I get the idea,” you repeated as he led you into the hallway, unable to keep yourself from glancing around for a moment, catching a peek of the dining room. “You live here by yourself?”

“Why?”

His question hit you out of nowhere and you stuttered for a moment, racking your brain for a good response, “Just- I was making conversation. Jesus.”

“Right,” Joel nodded, his gaze softening a bit. He placed his bag onto the floor and tapped his right thigh absent-mindedly. “Come on, follow me.”

He took you into the upstairs bathroom that smelled faintly of soap, reminding you that you hadn't had a proper wash in more days than you cared to count. There were a few small containers, mostly re-used mason jars, that were labeled ‘shampoo’ or ‘body wash’, sitting orderly on the small shelf next to the tub.

You felt more than heard Joel shift behind you and turned to meet his gaze. He was still watching, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for something.

“Do I- shower?” you asked softly and he sighed a little at that. 

“I need to check you for bites.” His voice was low but still carried a small note of sternness in it. 

Oh, right.

“I didn't agree to that.”

You could see his hand twitch, the handle of his revolver still sticking out the back of his jeans. “You're bit.”

It was more of a statement than anything else, like he already knew what was waiting for him under your clothes, maybe a bite on your leg, a scratch on your stomach. Joel had dealt with enough people that had been marked for death like that to know the signs of it. The thing was, he was wrong.

“Is this what it is?” you asked, quietly, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you go outside, save people? So you can bring them back here, get them to take their clothes off for you-”

“Whoa-” Joel held up both hands, shaking his head very slowly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I need to check you for bites, it’s protocol.” His voice was still deep, that southern drawl you heard earlier in the gas station still present but somehow softer. His features had shifted, seeming genuinely surprised by the turn of your conversation.

“Now, if you want someone else to do it, I can get a lady and let her look you over. We just want to be sure we don’t bring Infected in, that's all.”

“That's all?” you asked as he kept his eyes trained on you, his hands still up in the air and his expression soft.

“I swear, that's all. If you can show me you're not bit, I'll get you that shower, some food, you name it.”

You gave a small nod at that, your body deflating a little. It had been an incredibly long day and the man in front of you seemed genuine. If he wasn't, you could still try and bail.

Joel turned slightly under the pretense of grabbing a towel from below the sink but you knew he was attempting to give you a bit of privacy- even though he clearly didn’t trust you enough to fully turn his back on you. With shaky hands, you began to strip, holding back a wince as you forced your bruised body to move. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, dry blood forcing another whimper out of your throat.

You felt Joel's head snap towards you at that but ignored him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of showing quite how uncomfortable you felt about going through this with him next to you.

He was quick and professional, his large hands brushing over your skin as he made sure you were clean.

“All good,” he commented shortly when he was satisfied, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he reached for a stack of folded towels. Then, his gaze rested on your head again, more specifically, on your matted hair.

“You want me to get someone to cut that for you? Might be easier than-”

“No,” you quickly piped up. You knew your body was malnourished and likely had a dozen other things wrong with it. You didn’t want to lose your hair too.

Joel nodded, his hand absent-mindedly trailing over a particularly nasty knot. “I think I got some soap conditioner in the closet. You want to give that a try?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you responded curtly and Joel disappeared from the room for a few moments. He came back, as promised, with a soap smelling of jasmine and cotton. 

He didn’t seem as hesitant, now that he knew you weren’t bit. At least that’s what you assumed had caused the shift in him. It didn’t occur to you that it might be the fact that you were sitting on his bathroom tiles, shivering, assuming the worst in him, in men, hell, in society. That you looked like a wounded deer, ready to take off at the slightest notion of danger, no matter how badly you were already bleeding.

Joel was a lot more gentle than you would have expected a man of his build to be. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, reaching just far enough to cover your entire hair, but never letting any conditioner run down onto your face. It made you wonder if he was a father. Then you remembered his brother had mentioned a girl earlier, Ellie. Still, you knew better than to ask. You’d likely be gone in a few days anyway.

But, there was one question that you couldn’t keep from slipping out of your mouth.

“Why did you think I was bit?”

Joel paused for a moment, his fingers slowing down ever so slightly as he seemed to think about his words.

“You weren’t fighting hard enough. To stay alive, I mean. You were acting like someone who knows that their time is up.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt his hand brush over the crown of your head, lathering the matted mess that was your hair with soap in small, circular motions.

“I thought it was,” you whispered, honestly. You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to explain it either.

He didn’t ask.

Neither of you spoke again until you were curled up in his bed, him insisting to take the couch for the night. He’d fed you some soup, relieved when he saw that your stomach could handle that. He’d warned you that it might not, after getting so used to going days without food. You’d gotten some worn but warm clothes to wear after the shower and now your body was sinking into an actual mattress. It was more than you’d dreamed of just that morning.

Joel paused in the doorway, his hand tapping against his jeans, a habit you had already picked up on. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding a gun.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your mouth went dry as you tried to keep your tone nonchalant. His expression told you that it wasn't exactly working. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You look like you will.”

Again, a quiet fell over you and you shook your head softly. “What, you were a psychologist before or something?”

He smiled weakly. “Contractor.”

After a short pause, he went on. “I know it's hard to- to trust. When ya first get here. I felt the same.” 

You felt a small breath leave your throat at that. “But it gets better?”

“There's hot water, three meals a day, fair working conditions. I don't think it gets much better out there,” he pointed out softly before giving you a small nod.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Good night.”

27 months later

The almost-empty soap sits on your bathroom shelf, the one that’s screwed to the wall just above the worn-out bathtub. You’ve gotten it refilled every few months, sometimes sooner if you wanted to allow yourself a little treat. It still reminds you of your first day in Jackson, of the safety that you so quickly felt in every room of Joel's house.

You still have some time before you have to head to work and the blue sky promises a cold but clear day so you decided to go and check if you’re in luck with any available refills today. Stock always changes throughout the week and while there’s usually something available, you prefer to get your chosen products if possible.

No such luck.

“Sorry, we’re all out. Think patrols cleared out the store that had these a while ago,” the woman behind the counter says apologetically. “We have some others if you’d like to try a new one, there’s-”

“I’m good,” you quickly insist, giving her a small smile when you notice you may have sounded a little harsh. “I’ll just wait and see if some more comes in.”

In one quick motion, you turn around and head towards the door- only to run face-first into a broad chest draped in a thick, brown coat.

“Whoa.” The deep voice above you immediately sends a gentle warmth through your body and you take a small step back to be able to squint up at the man you bumped into.

“Sorry, Texas, didn't see you there.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Joel mutters weakly, fumbling with the small bag he is carrying before handing it over to the woman behind the counter. She thanks him and quickly begins to sort the items he has brought back from patrol. He’s wearing the thick coat you see on him whenever it drops below freezing, his dark boots leaving small pieces of wet mud on the floor of the small store. He’s been doing the creek trails then, most likely.

You’ve rarely been on patrol yourself, focusing your energy more on tasks inside the community. If it hadn’t been for Joel, you know you probably would have taken off in the first few days, maybe stolen some food and been on your way. But he’d gotten you to stay. With him, for a few days. Then they had found space for you in a small guesthouse close to the mainstreet, to be shared with a young woman not unlike yourself that had offered up her vacant bedroom.

You’d taken an instant liking to Lane. Joel had dropped you off at your new home, with the few things you owned, and you and her had both stood in the small kitchen in awkward silence, racking your brains for a good conversation starter. Of course, you’d come up with the one she probably heard every other day.

“I like your hair.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was cut short but thick, and most importantly, it was blue. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen colored hair. It seemed to fit her though. The roots were brown and the overall color a little less vibrant than you’d seen in magazines of people before the outbreak. If anything, you liked this more.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, twisting her hand around the small cup she was holding. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m the worst at social shit,” she finally blurted out and it looked like she was half glad to admit it and half afraid of your reaction.

“Don’t worry. Me too,” you admitted, a grin spreading over both your faces, the silence seeming a lot more bearable now. She shrugged towards the counter, half a dozen muffins sitting on it. “You like blueberries? A friend let me nick these.”

She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “I mean, technically they’re not real blueberries, the ground here is too dry for those. I think they’re called juneberries, but we never call them that.”

You figured she’d be a solid roommate if she’d just met you and was already sharing her sweets. Half an hour later, when you had vomited the blueberry muffins back up in your shared bathroom, Joel’s warning about solid food still ringing in your ears, when she was standing beside you, holding your hair back and handing you a washcloth when you were finished, you knew she’d be more than a roommate. She’d be your friend.

She had also been the one to get you into teaching. You’d been fascinated when she first told you about her job in town, teaching the children of Jackson practically every subject she could. Neither of you had been in school before the outbreak so it was all the more impressive, the way she managed to control a class without the need to get loud or hand out punishments.

You’d taken a liking to the classrooms of Jackson as well, reminiscing on the last summer before the world had gone to shit and the way you’d looked forward to being in school, learning all the things big girls did. Not getting to sit in a classroom, and you didn’t count those at FEDRA as actual classrooms, had been only one of so many things you felt you had missed out on.

So it felt even more special now when, after you got Maria to assign you as teacher alongside Lane, you spent your days in the colorfully decorated classrooms, teaching a variety of subjects and a variety of ages. It was similar to life in Jackson, not without its fair amount of challenges. But, just as Joel had promised the first night, you learned to trust and the more you did, the easier it was to let yourself be. Above all, to let yourself be happy.

Joel steps outside alongside you, his head jerking back towards the small supply store. “Did ya get everything?”

His voice is soft, and you like to imagine that he sounds a little more gentle when speaking to you compared to the others. Not that you see him talking to a lot of people either way. You're pretty sure it's why he prefers the patrols, less people to bother him and less voices to listen to. Even though you had a feeling, about a year after you arrived in Jackson, that he also preferred being paired up with Esther, a pretty woman who took care of the horses and frequented the patrols. Especially those with Joel.

You had almost hoped for them to end up together, to drive the images of Joel alone at his too large dining table out of your head. But they didn't and the images stayed. You had him over for dinner, every other month. It started as a thank-you for helping you through your first days and quickly developed into a rare but regular thing. Ellie or Lane joined you occasionally, happy to get a nice home-cooked dinner and some of the wine Joel usually brought along.

You didn't see too much of him outside of your little gatherings, only the normal occasions that presented themself around town. But it was nice to know that he was there, that he would bring his wine and compliment your cooking and make small-talk and listen to the new developments of your life.

“It makes sense for you to be a teacher,” he’d agreed after you’d updated him on your new position, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What is that supposed to mean? Think I can’t handle myself out on the group patrols?”

His face slowly changed at that, Joel urgently shaking his head, “I didn't mean-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, no longer able to stay serious at how panicked he looked. “I’m messing with you, old man. I know what you meant. I think it makes sense too. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, grumbling a little under his breath.

It's Joel's voice that brings you back to the present. “I asked if you got everything?”

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, then it turns to shaking your head no. “They’re out of conditioner. But it’s fine, I can stretch mine a bit longer and maybe they’ll get some next week.”

“Ya still using the same one?” Joel asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and you nod. It's sweet that he remembers. It's been over two years, after all.

“Yeah. Liked it, never saw a reason to switch,” you explain lamely. He only gives a short nod, motioning for you to follow as he starts walking. 

You do, though perplexed. “School’s in the other direction.” “Thought your class didn’t start until ten today,” he points out. It never appears to you to ask how or why he knows this. When your steps slow down and your thoughts speed up simultaneously, he nudges you along.

“You want your soap or not?” he grumbles and your face lights up a little at that. 

“You got some?” 

Joel gives another quick nod. “Brought them back a few weeks ago. I would’ve given them to you if I knew ya still used them.”

You trot beside him like a puppy, making your way down Rancher Street and up the flight of stairs that leads to the small house clad in white. The noise of the wind chimes tied to a beam above his front porch drifts over to you, the gentle breeze creating a slow melody.

You haven’t been in his upstairs bathroom for years. It’s odd and it feels too intimate, seeing the place where he brushes his teeth in the morning, where he washes himself after a long day. You don't belong in a space this personal. You don't belong to him.

It felt different when you were curled up on the same white tiles, letting him check your bruised and battered body for signs of Infection. For a split moment, it did feel like you belonged, in a way.

Joel's hand brushes over yours as he hands you the soap, the one smelling of jasmine and cotton and safety. 

The rest of the day is a blur of lessons and grading, but the smell of the soap seems to linger, the comforting feeling in your stomach getting you through the work day. It doesn’t end until seven with you staying behind to tutor some kids for an upcoming exam and then to finish preparing said exam. The smell of food fills the air as you open your front door and you smile as you poke your head into the kitchen, “Smells good.”

Lane is seated at the table, a few papers in front of her. Likely an exam of her own, you think to yourself. Even after the world has ended, finals season still exists.

“My mum made that pasta you like so much today. Figured I'd save you some,” she says, nodding towards the tupperware sitting on the counter.

“You're an angel.” You whistle as you head deeper into the house, putting away your jacket and bag, fishing the soap out of the latter and placing it on the bathroom shelf. It makes you pause for a moment. You give a nod to yourself at the sight of the refilled container and make a silent vow to treat yourself to a nice bath today.

An hour later, your stomach is filled with warm pasta, the bathroom damp with steam and your hair soft, smelling just the way you like it. The clock in the small hallway reminds you that it's already past twelve and the knowledge that tomorrow is another day filled with teaching makes you want to crawl into bed fairly quickly. But you're thirsty.

Lane is still in the kitchen, her blue hair a little messy and crowned with a pair of headphones. The music spills out a bit, enough for you to be able to hear the low, steady humming of a song that seems mildly familiar.

You do remember a few songs from before the Outbreak- mainly the ones they played on the radio. But you know that Lane doesn’t, being a few years younger than you, meaning that she barely has any memories of the before.

You're already in your pajamas, shuffling to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Somehow it always tastes better at night. Or maybe your brain is playing tricks on you.

“Hey, you remember Joel is coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?” you ask with your back to your friend. When no response comes, you gulp down the last bit of water and turn around, giving a small wave in the air between you. 

Lane sits up a little more, pushing one side of her headphones back just enough to free her ear. “Hm?”

“Dinner with Joel, Sunday,” you repeat, a yawn escaping you. 

After a moment, she nods. “Right, I remember. We’re out of blueberries again, by the way.”

“I’ll make sure to restock this weekend then,” you agree, already halfway across the room. You give another small wave and finally head to bed. It looks exactly the same way you left it this morning, the blanket tucked into one side, the pillows arranged against the headboard.

“It's so good to be home,” you mutter to yourself as you crawl under the covers, stretching your body a little. Your left hand reaches for your nightstand and finds the book you've been reading, hoping to get just a tiny bit further tonight. With all the work and the winter festival coming up, you’ve barely made progress, the wooden bookmark still sitting near the front. You put it aside, glancing down at the finely carved piece of woodwork for a moment. Joel gave it to you for your first birthday in Jackson. Then you open the book properly, the worn-out spine cracking slightly. Just a couple of minutes.

But your eyes start to droop after just a few pages. After half a chapter, you're in a deep slumber, the book slipping out of your hands and onto the wooden floor below just as the front door slips shut.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting <3

[formosusiniquis]

any cosmo girl would have known

“Oh she did it for sure.”

“Steve!”

“Ten bucks, Bobert, don't give me that look last time we agreed double or nothing.”

“No,” Nancy insists. “This isn't Murder, She Wrote or Scooby-Doo or Columbo-”

“You saw who did it in Columbo at the beginning,” Eddie reminds.

“I know it's an awful show.”

Robin and Steve remain in sync enough to each get a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting on the coffee table to defend the only good cop show in existence.

“I'm only pointing out,” she rewinds the VHS taking it back the two or three minutes they'd talked over before stopping it completely, “that this is a movie, not a drama with a repeated format that Steve can pattern recognition into predicting.”

“You haven't seen it already, right?” Robin asks. “The one rule of Monthly Middle-Aged Movie Night is you have to pick a movie none of us have seen.”

“No, I haven't seen it already. If you'll all remember when I asked you each to go see it with me I got,” he points to each of them in turn. “‘Wouldn't you rather see Tomb Raider?’ from double VHS, prestige cinephile and ‘That's too much pink for me, baby, you know I have that intolerance, maybe Rob or Nance will go?’ from my emo-isn’t-a-phase husband. And ‘I'm a little busy with this new story, Steve,’ from Nancy, the only one of you with a real excuse.”

“Some feminist you are, Birdie.”

“I don't want to hear it from you. I watched two of the blandest men alive pursue Renee Zellweger while the screen writers tried to convince us she was homely because you ‘forgot’ you had band practice.”

“You said you liked it!”

“It grew on me, but sometimes you just want to see a woman in a tank top. And I won't be shamed by the same man who cried during Beauty and the Beast.”

“I went with my sweet baby Lucy Joan, you miserable hag,” Eddie says, “and they turned that hot werewolf into a boring looking man.”

“You weren't into that? Look at who-”

“Why am I getting made fun of? Can we finish the movie?”

“No, I'm not going to let this be another Sixth Sense situation,” Nancy says, holding the remote hostage, she knows no one will try to take it from her.

“Ugh don't even bring that up,” Eddie groans, “Dustin still mentions it in at least one letter a year.”

Nancy nods, prim and proper, “Exactly, so tell us right now why you think she did it, then we'll play it again.”

“Chutney, the daughter,” Steve corrects, “have you even been paying attention? Her hair's permed.”

“And press play,” Eddie shouts.

“No,” Robin smacks his hands as he makes his ballsy play to reach around her for the remote. “Show your work, Dingus, even I didn't follow that one.”

“I don't always like the movies everyone else picks but I at least watch them. Her hair is permed, she said she was in the shower. She would have had to have been washing her hair if she didn't hear the gunshot and she has a perm.”

“You can wash your hair with a perm,” Nancy points out.

“You would know.” Eddie snarks, fingering the ends of his own hair.

“You can't wash a fresh perm, you'll fuck up the ammonium thioglycolate. Then you're out forty bucks and you've got limp hair. She killed her dad and lied about being in the shower.”

“Press play,” Eddie decrees again, leaning in close to Steve's side to purr, “it's pretty sexy when you go all hair care detective.”

His hand starts to slip below the blanket. “This is how we ended up with Lucy in the first place,” Steve reminds him, just under the sounds of the courtroom drama picking back up. It doesn’t stop Eddie’s hand from wandering until the movie’s climax starts getting closer, and Eddie’s attention is captured just like Robin’s and Nancy’s.

“Unbelievable,” Robin says, when Elle cites the perm salt.

“Never again,” Nancy swears, when Chutney screams her confession.

“Lucy’s been asking for a brother or sister,” Eddie flirts, as Elle reveals that any good Cosmo girl could have solved it.

No more movies with mysteries or twist endings for a while, they all agree, Robin can’t afford to keep betting against Steve.

[tryingtograspctrl]

NO TIME TO WASTE: EDDIE DIAZ X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY: You had been Christopher's babysitter for the past three years, you fell in love with Eddie almost instantly and the feelings were mutual but the two of you didn't act on it trying to keep your relationship professional. When a robbery gone wrong nearly costs you your life he knows he has confess.

Warning: Mentions of shooting, beating, multiple injuries such as a gunshot wound and broken ribs, mentions of shock and guilt. I promise there’s a happy ending!

“Wait isn’t that…”

"My place." Eddie finished, a chill washing over him.

There were reports of a robbery at his house and the police requested that paramedics be on the scene with them, just in case.

The fire truck came to a stop and Eddie practically flew out of it. Barging through his front door, running through his house like a mad man, Buck not too far behind him.

He fell to his knees once he reached the living room, pure panic filling him.

"Y/n? Y/n! stay with me, stay with me please." He cried putting pressure on the gunshot wound near your chest.

You were unconscious, breathing shallow and there were bruises all over your face, one eye already turning a deep shade of purple.

"Are you okay? what happened?" He looked over at Christopher who was just as distraught as him.

"He shot her, he shot her!" The boy weeped, body shaking rapidly.

Buck wasted no time scooping him into his arms and carrying him away from the scene.

"Christopher, christopher get out of here, before he comes back." You mumbled incoherently as you came to.

"What the hell are you guys doing?! Get a gurney in here!" Eddie yelled looking around wildly.

"Eddie you have to step back so we can help her." Hen spoke gently behind him.

He stood on shakey legs, stepping back allowing Hen and Chimney to work on you.

He sped out of the door, taking Christopher from Bucks arms.

"Thank god you're okay." He kissed the boy’s head repeatedly, breathing heavily.

"She was trying to stop him and he beat her up dad, he just kept hitting her and hitting her." Chris spoke quietly in a state of shock.

Eddie and Buck shared a look of horror.

"He tried to hurt me but y/n stopped him... is y/n gonna die because of me?" He looked up at his father, eyes wide.

"Hey no, no buddy she's not gonna die, and it's not your fault okay? It's not your fault." Eddie sobbed holding the boy to his chest.

At the hospital

Eddie paced near the front desk, anxiously waiting to hear something, anything from the doctor about your condition.

"Eddie you need to sit down and try to breathe, it won't do you any good if you have a panic attack." Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How could i not? Someone broke into our house, tried to hurt my kid, beat y/n to a pulp and shot her!" He began to shake.

Bobby led him to a seat, Hen not far behind them doing her best to get him to calm down.

"Mr Diaz?" A doctor came over.

"Yes? Is she alright?" He stood. 

"Luckily the bullet went straight through, just barely missing her heart. She's got a couple broken ribs, a few bruises and a sprained ankle but other than that she'll be fine." The doctor said.

"Is she awake? Can we see her?" Bobby asked.

"Yes." The doctor nodded before walking off.

Eddie scooped up Christopher and rushed toward your room, the rest of the team following.

"Hi." You smiled weakly at everyone.

"Y/n i'm sorry." Christopher frowned walking toward your bed side.

"Sorry for what?" You asked frowning.

"This is all my fault." He began to cry.

"Hey don't say that." You did your best to sit up, wincing.

"You didn't do anything wrong, so don't go blaming yourself kid. I love you, and it's my job to protect you, i wasn't gonna let him hurt you, i'll never let anyone hurt you." You grabbed his hand.

"I'll take a thousand bullets to keep you safe, got that? Plus i'm still alive right? I got a cool story to tell now." You pinched his cheeks getting a giggle out of him.

"There's that smile, now no more tears." You wiped his face.

Everyone smiled at the sight before stepping out to give the three of you some room.

"You scared me." Eddie grabbed your hand kissing your knuckles lightly.

"Sorry." You sighed.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i was just so worried that.." He breathed shakily.

"Hey, i'm not going anywhere anytime soon. You're not gonna lose me." You stroked his cheek.

"You better not, i don't know what i'd do without the woman that i love beside me." He looked at you.

"Woman that you love?" You looked at him in surprise.

"Yes, i'm in love with you y/n and i'm tired of suppressing it. I wouldn’t know what to do without you or Christopher." He confessed.

"I'm in love with you too Eddie, and you won’t ever have to worry about any of that because like i said i’m not going anywhere and neither is Christopher.” You looked at him tenderly.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

"Heyyy i'm still here." Christopher groaned.

"Sorry bud." Eddie chuckled ruffling his hair.

Time skip.

A few days went by and you were finally able to check out of the hospital, you weren't completely healed but were well enough to be let go.

Athena and Bobby insisted that you Eddie and Christopher stay at their place for the time being, the guy had been caught but you could never be too safe, plus they had figured the three of you wouldn’t want to go back there so soon considering everything that happened.

They were throwing a party at the firehouse today to celebrate Maddie and Chimney's first wedding anniversary and you insisted on going.

It took a lot of convincing to get Athena to budge, she could be quite stubborn but she eventually gave in getting you and Christopher into the car and heading off.

She handed you your crutches as you hopped out of the car.

The three of you walked in Buck instantly grabbing Christopher, a bright smile on his face.

"What are you doing here you're supposed to be resting." Eddie frowned guiding you to a chair.

"Eddie if i spent another minute at the house i was gonna go insane." You huffed.

"I'm sorry baby i'm just worried." He pecked your cheek.

"I'm fine, doctor says i can get the cast taken off in a few more days so i'll be able to walk again, and my ribs don't even hurt that badly anymore." You explained.

"That's great." He smiled kissing you sweetly.

You melted grabbing onto the collar of his shirt.

"Ugh get a room." Chimney joked.

You both just laughed happy to finally be in each other's arms.

A/N - Had this idea written down for a couple days and i just got around to finishing it. I’ve been obsessed with Eddie lately. 🌻

[celestialprincesse]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞

Baths have to be one of your favourite things. There's something about lounging in the epsom salts filled bath, candles flickering about the edge, lights dimmed low and your favourite playlist thrumming quietly through your speaker that puts you on cloud nine.

Ever since your date - since Nikto vowed to fuck you properly - you've been a bubbly, gushy mess of feelings and fluttering in your tummy. To be honest, you're not so sure of the protocol now, of when it's appropriate to try and arrange a second date, or dig through your nightstand for the box of condoms which have probably long since expired. You've always been the one being chased, never the one doing the chasing. It's equal parts frustrating and so utterly thrilling.

What you're not aware of is how much your neighbour is struggling too. He's not sure how much longer he'll last with masturbating to the thought of you, imagining what silly little lingerie you'll wear when he finally takes to to bed, daydreaming of how you'd look under him, those mink lashes fluttering and rolling as he thrusts into you, how you'd whine and mewl at his every word of praise. He's getting desperate. A desperation which he's forcing himself to ignore so as not to frighten you like a stray gunshot with a wild rabbit.

Nikto, eventually gathers his strength, steels himself and forces away the unfamiliar stress he hold up tight in his shoulder blades, his balled fists at his side. The sound of your footsteps pounding down the stairs after only the first firm knock he raps on your door eases his anxiety, the look on your beaming face only serving to dissipate it completely.

"Hi!" You chirp breathlessly, still a little warm from having been mid way through blowdrying your hair.

"Princess." He acknowledges, giving a silent nod to your open door as if to ask whether or not you'll let him in. Not obliging would be foolish.

Your home is still uncharted waters to him, as is the way you take his hand so easily to guide him into the kitchen. So bold, so wonderfully eager to play house. "I bought Russian grey tea." A box is waved before his eyes, although he's far more interested in the lovely bashful smile you wear as you prance about the kitchen to flick on the kettle. "You're very thoughtful. Thank you." The thickly accented rumble of his voice sends shivers rocketing up your spine - shivers which he fails to miss.

Before you can even register, he's at your back, a massive hand coming to brush through the still silky blowout you'd managed to perfect on your hair. From the absolute reverence in his eyes, you're pretty sure the imposing Russian in your kitchen likes it too. "Pretty." He admires, breaking the comfortable silence descended upon the two of you. "You did this yourself? The hair?" The clinking of a teaspoon against the side of the pink porcelain mug accompanies the sound of the little hum you give, not registering the way you lean into his hand.

There's a vague feeling in the back of your head that tells you to create some distance, to pull away from the unbearably gentle fingers tracing patterns into the nape of your neck. You don't want to. You don't think you possibly could.

"With the blowdryer." You nod, turning in place to face him, the countertop digging into the small of your back. Nikto's arm doesn't leave its spot on your neck. He only brings his thumb up to trace that spot where your jaw and ear meet which has you weak in the knees, blinking up at him with hazy, unseeing eyes.

He gives a little grunt of acknowledgement at your answer, leaving you blushing as he doesn't even try to hide his crystalline stare, eyes blue as the deepest, coldest of lakes. Drowning in him would be such a lovely way to go.

You don't even recognise the way you lean forward until you're practically nose to nose, fingers twitching at the bottom hem of his mask. Begging silently for access. The desperation you're feeling is nothing short of all encompassing. Tunnel vision. You haven't even realised the way your chest is tight with a held breath, your dignity barely hanging on by a thread.

When your hand is so gently pushed away, you feel that thread snap.

Or at least you think you do, until Nikto has you by the hips, hoisting you up onto the counter before rolling the worn cotton of his mask to the bridge of his cooked nose.

The moment his lips find yours, you drown. You let yourself sink into the comfort of his presence, the warmth of his hands, the tide that refuses to stop from pulling you to him. The eagerness with which you kiss him back fills Nikto with an odd sense of pride, and the little mewl he manages to pull from your throat when his fingers curl coaxingly around the back of your neck turns him on. A lot.

You melt under his attention like butter in a pan, purring with his every touch like a kitten in a sunny spot. You're filled with nothing short of pure bliss, and you're convinced that Nikto is the only man to have ever provided you with such a feeling. Your every emotion has spilled out onto the floor, and Nikto laps it up like a man starved.

You're a mess of lips and tongues, cherry lipgloss smeared down his chin, legs hooking around his waist as your hands grip the back of his mask. Vaguely, you can feel one of his hands just above the hem of your skirt, fingers digging in to the meat of your thigh. You'd be thankful for any souvenir of this moment, bruise or not.

The sound of your ragged pants fill your tiny kitchen, his nose brushing against your earlobe as he crouches slightly to turn his attention onto your neck. The way you tip back your head against the cupboards to give him more space doesn't go unpunished as he nips and licks and sucks exploratively, his hand still firm around your thigh.

Eventually, painfully, the lusty haze settled over your kitchen is broken as he pulls back for air, and you sit in a wordless daze on the counter.

It's impossible for your mind to wrap around what the fuck just happened, but it's trying, running at a mile a minute to catch up with your body and the situation at hand.

"Anyways," He shrugs, as though he hasn't just had you like putty in his palms. "I will pick you up tomorrow afternoon. We will go out. Do not wear stupid shoes, okay princess?"

You gawk silently at him, choking on your words like a fish out of water.

"Also, your fence is broken. I'll fix it."

The minute he's gone from your kitchen, having taken a bit of your heart with him like a thief in the night, you're slumping back against the counter with a sigh of sheer girlish infatuation. "Wait - my shoes aren't stupid!" You yell uselessly into your already empty house.

PicNik unlocked 🤭 Sorry for the wait! I'm back now! I think! Maybe!

[snugglyducklingbrewhouse]

we play with fire because we like the way it burns

a mob boss!Nico x nurse!fem!reader au

Movie night, ruined

Warnings: blood, Luke injured, mentions of guns and gunshot wounds, some swearing and calling someone a dumbass, this is a mob au. Please tell me if I missed something

A/n: it’s here! The first installment. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

You were worried.

Luke Hughes was not known to be the most punctual, but he was never this late.

As far as you knew, this was his only plan for the night. So why hasn’t he called or texted?

It was just supposed to be a routine movie night. You, Luke, and a movie you’ve seen so many times. Tonight’s pick was Valentine’s Day since you saw New Year’s Eve around the new year, and it just made sense. To you two, anyway.

Luke was hours late. You were about to start getting ready for bed, tired of waiting on the couch. He could just apologize in the morning once you got sleep.

As you were collecting the snacks off the coffee table, there was a knock on your door.

Who was knocking on your door at this hour?

You quickly put the things in your hands back down so you could answer the door.

As Luke always insisted, you looked through the peephole. He hated that your building didn’t have a doorman, so he got you in the habit of checking the peephole.

You were not prepared to see Luke slung around the shoulders of Jack and another guy, barely able to stand up himself.

You swung the door open rapidly, ushering the three men to come inside before the neighbors started asking questions. God forbid Nancy saw anything and spread the news like wildfire.

Once you got a better look at the three, you realized Nico was the other man holding up Luke.

“What the fuck happened?!?” You practically shouted at them.

“Do you really want to know? Or do you just want to fix him?” Jack spoke up before his boss could say anything.

You rolled your eyes in a huff, but gestured to the couch. “Sit him up on the couch and make sure he doesn’t lose consciousness. Jack, get water from the kitchen. You, make sure Luke stays upright. He can’t fall asleep. Not yet.”

Jack had a nervous look on his face because you bossed around the most feared man in the city, but he rushed to get water despite not having gone that far into your apartment before.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Nico before rushing to get your primary first aid kit.

When you returned, you had to speak up and say the one thing you were dreading. “What happened and how did he get hurt?”

Nico was about to answer, but Jack spoke up from the kitchen instead. “Where the fuck are your cups and why are they this hard to find?”

Yet another eye roll from you. “Just grab a bottle from the fridge,” you yelled back.

“Dumbass,” you muttered under your breath. You loved Luke like a brother but that didn’t mean you felt the same way about his brother.

You turned back to Luke to assess the damage. Multiple cuts on his face and body. Luckily, no gunshots. You honestly weren’t sure you would be able to help if he had gotten shot.

Jack came back to the living room and set the bottle on the table and proceeded to stay out of your way while still looking out for his little brother. Their mother would kill him if she found out just how injured the baby Hughes was.

You grabbed the iodine and some cotton pads, mentally preparing to make your best friend endure more discomfort than he already was.

“Luke, I’m sorry that this is going to sting, but I need to clean your wounds,” you said gently.

Luke just grumbled, so you proceeded after telling Nico to make sure to hold Luke still.

“I’ll start with your arms and work my way to your face. Please don’t hate me for this,” you said gently, using your nurse voice reserved for telling people that something bad has happened.

Luke flinched a little once you started cleaning his wounds. It proceeded to get worse, and your patience also got progressively worse.

“Luke if you do not stop squirming, I swear to god I will duct tape you to a chair and tell your mother about your weekend in Atlantic City,” you said in a very angry tone, sick of Luke’s shit.

Nico looked slightly confused, while Luke and Jack both had looks of “oh shit” on their faces.

Jack proceeded to sit on Luke’s other side to make sure he stayed still.

“We do not need mom knowing about what happened,” Jack said as Luke nodded as best as he could.

You proceeded to finish disinfecting every wound on your best friend’s body and add antibiotic cream to each one, finishing the worse wounds with bandages and letting the smaller ones breathe.

“Luke, I’m gonna grab you one of your spare outfits for you to wear so you can sleep comfortably. Couch or guest room?” You asked him, honestly not knowing if he would make it to the guest room.

“Couch,” he mumbled.

You scurried off to grab some sweats and a shirt for Luke from his designated drawer in your room.

You tossed the clothes at Jack once you made it back to the living room, “make sure he gets into these. I’ll clean up.”

You proceeded to gather up the first said kit while Jack helped Luke change and Nico just sat, not knowing what to do.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” Nico finally spoke to you, and if you weren’t so concerned with Luke, you may have had more time to admire him.

“Uh. No. I think I’m good. I’ve dealt with worse messes,” you said, not stopping what you were doing.

You put all the supplies back and slipped into the kitchen to get yourself your own bottle of water, giving Jack time to get Luke dressed.

As you finally had a moment to breathe and think, you realized you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Luke hurt and not do anything about it.

After some time passed, Jack called out that Luke was successfully changed.

Walking back to the living room, you spoke up. “Call me immediately the next time he or someone else gets injured. I’ve seen enough questionable injuries at the hospital to know that I am your best option to avoid police questioning. Jack, you have my number. And please, for the love of all that is holy, stop doing dumb shit.”

You barely gave Jack time to respond before you spoke up again. “Now leave so Luke can rest. I’ll give you an update in the morning.”

Nico and Jack got up from their spots on your couch and proceeded to leave, you locking the door behind him.

You turned back to Luke and were worried about how the night was going to go.

“Can I have my blanket?” He asked weakly.

“Of course,” you said as you moved to grab it from its spot in your blanket basket.

You helped Luke lay down and get comfortable with the blanket tucked around him.

“Yell for me if you need anything, my door will be open,” you said before getting up to go back to your room. “Goodnight, Luke.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” Luke said with his eyes already closed.

You got ready for bed and were finally able to lay down and relax.

So why couldn’t you stop thinking about Nico?

[modelbus]

Congratulations on your 1000 followers!!!

For your event i request the following...

Ghost. Soulmate (colors). Cage.

Hear me out either reader or ghost is trapped in a cage and thats how they meet.

Congratulations again!!!!

You have been heard… why are you allergic to joy??

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Gn!Reader

Soulmate AU - Cage

As a prisoner of war, you had one job: don’t give up intel.

It didn’t matter what they put you through. The waterboarding, the starvation, the damn cage they trapped you in. Saying anything you knew would lead to death, the very thing you wanted to avoid. Your knowledge would go the grave with you.

You shiver, squinting out into the dim room you’re kept in. The terrorists blissfully didn’t give you a gag, probably hoping you’d shout out secret intel. You’d rather freeze before doing that, curled up on the metal floor or the dog cage they’ve locked you in.

Maybe it’s been weeks. Maybe it’s been months. Their hideout doesn’t seem to have any windows, and you can’t tell what color the light under the door is to tell what time it is. Everything’s in black-and-white because you haven’t met your soulmate, and would probably never now.

Numb fingers hook around the bars of your cage, your shoulder uncomfortably resting against them. Bastards couldn’t even give you a single blanket. Fuck them. Fuck them, and fuck their whole organization.

You were—are—a soldier in special operations. A sergeant. They can demean you however they fucking like, but you’ve been trained not to give in. You’d rather die here.

They left you in your mission clothes, the same ones you were wearing when you got captured. By now they’re stained, wrinkled, and torn, but familiar. Still yours, something they haven’t stripped from you yet.

Faintly, you can hear gunshots. Maybe they’re practicing their shooting like they often do. Special forces could beat them in an aiming contest any day, so they really need the practice.

You wait for the shots to stop then start again, maybe hear a few choice swears, but you don’t. Instead, you get the sound of quick footsteps and shouting. Way too many voices to be the same terrorists that captured you.

Sitting straighter, you have to duck your head so you don’t hit it on the cage ceiling. What’s going on? More terrorists? You don’t let yourself hope that it’s a rescue mission. You knew a long time ago: they don’t do rescue missions.

The door bursts open, sunlight streaming in and nearly blinding you. You force your eyes to stay open though, getting ready to claw at someone if you have to.

But instead of a sloppy terrorist, or even a leader in some fancy suit, you recognize the gear the person is wearing. The familiar gun, the combat boots, helmet, and vest.

Military.

You can’t see the colors of the flag on his vest, but he turns and you can mostly make out the shape. British, you’re pretty sure. Someone safe.

“Fuck were they doing in here?” The stranger asks, voice gruff. He kicks at an empty can on the ground, and you lick your cracked lips in preparation to talk.

The soldier beats you to it though. He turns toward you, giving you a full view of the skull mask he wears. Eyes falling downwards, they see the cage, then meet yours.

Color explodes across your vision.

He has blue eyes. The can was red. The walls are blue, which you hadn’t guessed.

The soldier seems equally as surprised, slowly looking around before dropping into a crouch in front of you. Well, not just any soldier, you guess. Your soulmate.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks, not opening the latch yet. Not wanting to risk you being a terrorist, you’re guessing.

You scramble for the chain around your neck, tugging it off and offering your dog tags to him. He reads them, stands up, and shouts over his shoulder.

“Price! We’ve got a POW in here!”

Another man comes in—Price?—in the same outfit. Except he has a hat on. You glance warily between the two, shifting.

“Stop.” Your soulmate orders, not even looking away from you.

”You called me in here, Ghost—“

“You’re scaring ‘em.” Ghost answers.

Ghost. An interesting Callsign, one that sounds vaguely familiar. You’ve heard it somewhere before. Maybe one of the terrorists mentioned him. Something about him being scary. You can certainly see why; he’s big, looks dangerous. But he’s your soulmate apparently.

“Fuck you.” You say hoarsely. “I’m not scared.”

“Goddamn.” Price whistles. “How long you been here?”

You’re too prideful to ask what day it is, so you fix him with a glare instead. Fuck him too.

“Long enough, I’d wager.” Finally, Ghost reaches out to start undoing the locks and latches of your cage.

“No kidding.” Price goes to step forward again, but Ghost jerks his head around to glare at him. “Fuck, Ghost. I’m just tryin’ to help.”

“I’m helping.” Short, simple. Territorial.

He swings the cage door open, and you scramble out, desperate to finally stand. You’re never going to take stretching for granted again. Every day you’re going to stretch without complaint, you swear.

The second you get your legs under you, they buckle, weak from disuse. Ghost catches you easily, an arm around your waist. His touch seems hesitant, hand flat on your side instead of curling around you.

“I can walk.” You insist.

“You can hardly talk.” Price corrects you. “Let’s get you back to our base and deal with this from there.”

He turns on his heel, striding out. Leaving you with Ghost. Leaving you with your fucking soulmate.

Ghost’s head tilts down to look at you. “You ain’t some kind of fucked up trick?” He asks.

“…no?”

“Then let’s go.”

[thursdaygxrls]

this is a bit self indulgent to request lol but i’m very partial to any hunger games au just so my babies arent as traumatized by the end lmao😭

maybe pirate!finnick x reader where they take r captive? finnick brings her some food and makes sure the other pirates keep away from r

anon, i do not know how i feel about this one. i absolutely loved this request, but i may have screwed up the pic. apologies 🙏 i tried using second person for the first time also. the beginning may be confusing, please bear with me

a simple mistake

pairing pirate!finnick odair x maid!reader

summary when the pirates of the mockingjay planned to kidnap the princess, they thought everything would go smoothly. however, there's one big problem: they kidnapped the wrong girl.

warnings unedited shitty writing, kidnapping, guns, gale, modern language in a different time period

Wherever you were, it was dark. Or maybe it was just the blindfold.

It felt like moments ago that you were tucked cozily into her bed, your body encased by down. There was a crash somewhere in the castle - down the hall? You were only half awake as cloth that smelled like dirt and saltwater wrapped itself tightly around your eyes, and you were dragged from her slumber.

This was a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake. Tried tried to explain this to her captors as they tugged her, but all you could muster was a few muffled noises over the bitter-tasting gag tied around you. To their credit, those holding you right now were strong and fast: they kept a tight grip on her arm while being able to shove you forward at a fast pace. Lost in your panic, you didn't catch what they were saying to each other: "Are you sure this is her?" "Yes, I'm sure. To the right, four doors down from the window."

"Your right or his right?" "The right of the window!"

They kept their tone hushed as they began to descend a staircase. In the back of your mind, you recognized the pattern in which the steps descended: one, two, three, four, turn, five, six, seven, eight, turn - they were headed down the servant's staircase in the back of the castle. There was an exit hatch at the bottom.

With little hope, you thrashed in their grip. As expected, they handled it with ease. The thought that this may be a normal occurrence swirled in your brain, inciting more and more fear.

"Would you stop? It's hard enough going down these steps without someone kicking at me," the person to your left huffed. His tone was odd. For being the perpetrator of a kidnapping, there was no biting edge to his words.

Your bare feet hit the dewy grass with no warning. In between racing thoughts and heaved breaths, you'd made it to the exit. It was summer, but the coolness of the night air settled over your skin and made you shiver. You were only in your night shift, after all: shabby cloth that provided a nearly sufficient amount of modesty.

Boom!

The noise has you screaming against the cloth as the two holding you swear.

Boom!

There it was again, loud and threatening.

“Guards are a worse shot than I thought,” the man to your left says as they pick up the pace.

Boom!

Oh, God, the guards were shooting at them — were shoot at you! Hushed prayers are whispered from your lips, though, they’re unintelligible. The person to your right must pick up on the trembling in your body because they begin moving at an impossibly faster speed. You wonder how they haven’t fainted by now, how you haven’t fainted by now.

“Don’t worry,” they say, speaking to you through the gunshots, “Never had cargo die on us before. Plus, it’s not you they’re shooting at, it’s us.”

This does nothing to quell your fears, but a new sensation under your feet works to distract your ever rushing mind. If it wasn’t for the two people practically carrying you, you would be sinking in the soft earth beneath you. It was a bit coarse, but delicate, and parted to make way for your feet. Was it sand? There was yelling in all directions: next to you, behind, in front. Then you hit an incline, and the softness of the sand roughened under your feed. You were rocking, too, and not just you, the ones holding you up. There was a crash entirely unlike the sound of the guns, and another sway — oh, fuck.

This was a ship.

“They’re on us!” One of them screamed as you plateaued to a surface

“In a minute, they won’t even see us,” a gruff voice responded, seemingly unfazed by nearing sound of gunshots. There was a loud groan and suddenly, you were moving. Though the two still had a strong hold on you, you stumbled as the ship began to move. The gunshots, which had been getting louder, were sounding much more distant. Even if it was only a minute or two since you’d been hoisted onto the ship, it felt like hours.

“I was hoping this would be a clean job, y’know, no—” The gruff voice which had spoken before stopped. You could hear an unsteady breath as footsteps neared you.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”

And then there was light, nearly blinding from the amount of time you’d spent in the dark. The owner of the voice ripped the cloth from your eyes in one swoop, and you cringed at the bleeding dawn along the horizon.

“What?” You whipped your head to the left, finding a tall older boy with dark brown hair and bright eyes.

“This is not the Princess.” You could now see the owner of the gruff voice, who was a middle-aged man with greasy, chin length blonde hair and scruff around his chin. His eyes were trained on you as he spoke.

“What?” The boy repeated.

“You grabbed the wrong goddamn girl, Gale,” the man’s voice boomed.

“I told you something was off,” the man on the right — tall and bald — groaned.

“Why the hell did you not say that before you kidnapped her?” The blonde man huffed.

“I did!” He argued back.

“What are we gonna do with her?” Gale spoke up.

“I…I don’t know,” the blonde sighed, “We can’t go back now, not like this. They’ll have the land and water covered in an hour. Just take her down.”

“Haymitch, I’m really—”

“Just take her down, Gale,” Haymitch, the blonde man, repeated in a stern tone. The boy bowed his head, and the bald man followed suit, turning you and hauling you away from the front of the deck. Had you not been so dimmed with exhaustion from running from gunfire and screaming against the gag in your mouth, you may have done a little more fighting during that conversation. Instead, you studied the crew of the ship who were running around as though you didn’t exist. They shouted at each other, likely still executing their speedy getaway off the main island. As they lead you to the door at the middle of the dock, you noticed Gale eyeing you.

“You’re…not the Princess?” He asked quietly.

“She can’t speak,” the bald man rolled his eyes before taking the gag from your mouth. Immediately, you heaved in a deep breath, finding that the air was still salty even without the seawater-flavored gag.

“You’re not?” Gale repeated his question as though you didn’t hear him.

“No.” You found your voice to be hoarse, but forceful as you glared at him. In finding this voice, questions exploded from your mouth.

“What the hell is going on? Let me go! Why did you take me? Where am I?” They ignored these questions.

“We should’ve asked her first,” the bald man groaned.

“She would’ve said ‘no’ even if she was the Princess!” Gale yelled. They pushed past the door and lead you down the steps to a small hall. They turned onto the first room.

“Well, we’re here,” Gale sighed, letting go of your arm. Your limbs felt like jelly from being pulled and shoved for so long, however, you tried your hand at pushing past them and running. The question of where you would go was a thought for later.

“Woah,” the bald man immediately grabbed ahold of you as you attempted your escape, “Please try to stay put, alright? There’s not many places for you to go.”

“Why am I here?” You asked again, your tone laced with anger.

“Just sit tight for a while, okay?” Gale spoke awkwardly as he and the other man kept you still.

“Sit tight?” You repeated indignantly.

“Please just go sit, I don’t want to tie you up,” the bald man sighed. To your surprise, there was genuine sympathy in his voice. Even so, you stared at them, unmoving. This silent chess match carried on for another thirty seconds before a groan left Gale, and he shoved you to the floor. Your behind hit the floor hard, and before you could scramble to pick yourself up, they were out the door. You got to your feet and helplessly tried the doorknob, but it was already locked.

“That was just plain rude,” you could hear the muffled voice of the bald man through the door, “What’s wrong with you, man?”

“She wasn’t moving,” Gale’s voice was somewhat unfazed.

“You’re an ass, really.” The voices faded out, and it was then, for the first time in what seemed like forever, that you were alone. The room was small, wooden, and windowless. There was a cot with a threadbare blanket and a sorry excuse for a pillow on one end and a tattered table and chair on the other.

You tried to find ways to occupy yourself: banging on the door, screaming, punching the pillow, questioning God, picking at the wood, acquiring splinters. Any amount of time could’ve passed: seconds, minutes, hours, days. Well, maybe not days, but it felt like it. You were laying on the cot, counting the rings in the ceiling when the lock jostled. You sat straight up, jumping from your bed when the door opened. You rushed at the entry, only to be blocked by a rough hand.

“They said you’re quick,” a mellow voice followed the hand. This wasn’t the man who demanded you were taken here or either of the ones who followed his orders; he was new. Sandy blonde hair that gently spiked on his head, tanned skin, likely from his days on the deck, dark blue eyes, and pink lips that stretched into a crooked smile. While one of his arms kept you secure, the other held a tray with a portion of bread, a bowl, and a metal cup.

“What is going on?” You asked gruffly.

“I can tell you, but you have to promise you won’t run the second I step away from this door,” he said, looking a bit more calm than one might expect. You, still staring him down, considered the options, and with a relenting sigh, backed away. He entered the room, that easy smile still on his face as he shut the door behind him.

“So,” He spoke, eyeing you, “I take it you’re not the Princess.”

“No, I am not,” you responded, voice terse with frustration.

“I see,” he nodded, then gestured towards the cot for you to sit. You obliged cautiously. As far as kidnappings went, this one was rather polite — but it was still a kidnapping.

“I can assure you that the plan was not to kidnap you,” he sighed, taking a seat at the table. He extended the tray of food towards you, but you don’t take it. Not yet.

“And what was the plan?” You asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Well, darlin’,” he began, “The plan was to kidnap the Princess and ransom her back. Take that money and spread it across the islands, give back to those who need it.” Suspicion peaked in you, and it was obvious he could tell, because his smile stretched further.

“What, don’t believe me?” He hummed, cocking his head.

“Would you trust someone who stole you?” You fired back. He laughed gently at that.

“Probably not, but you’re lucky it was instead of anyone else,” he spoke.

“Lucky?” You repeated with a scoff.

“Darlin’, this ship we’re on? It’s the Mockingjay,” he set his palm on his knee. This struck a chord; the Mockingjay. You’d heard of them before, just rumors. Some called them the gentle pirates, others called them weaklings. They took what they wanted with force, but never caused any casualties.

“I’m Finnick,” he interrupted your thoughts suddenly, extending his hand, “And I’m just dying to know your name.”

Though you took his hand with reluctance, you didn’t speak a word. This creased a wrinkle along his forehead.

“I think it’s best if we do introductions now rather than later,” he said, keeping his deep blue eyes on you. A sigh escaped you before you turned from his gaze and towards the ceiling.

“Y/n,” you replied quietly.

“Pretty name. Wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but I’ll take what I can get,” he grinned, “Who are you, Y/n?”

“I’m a maid,” you spoke, unsure why you replied instead of ignoring him, “The Princess’s Lady in Waiting. Her companion.”

“Ah, I see,” he hummed, “That’s why you had yourself a room up there. You and the Princess close?” You don’t respond to this, jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry for this, Y/n, truly,” he frowned, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“But it was a kidnapping all the same,” you sigh.

“You’re right. You’re right, but we’re not perfect people. We do what we have to. And right now,” he grabbed the tray once more, extending it towards you, “I have to make sure you eat.”

“Aren’t you supposed to give me the tray and leave?” You glared at him.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, the tray still in his hands, “I guess I do what I want. And I want to sit with you while you eat.”

“Why?” You don’t let up with your accusing gaze.

“I wouldn’t want a pretty lady starving on my ship. That would just break my heart,” he grinned. Another second of silence.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked, a weak shudder in your voice betraying your cold stare. It would make sense, after all: you were useless. The King wouldn’t pay a ransom for a maid.

“What?” The question seemed to genuinely shock him, “No, oh, God, no. I wouldn’t lay a hand on you.”

“What about them out there? The rest of the crew?” You gestured to the door.

“They wouldn’t either, but even if they tried, I wouldn’t let them get to you,” he spoke, surprisingly reassuring, “You’re not going to be killed, I can assure you of that.”

You swallowed hard, finally looking back at him to see the genuine look in his eyes. He seemed kind, which was strange. Was it some sort of manipulation tactic? A means to an end?

“Are you going to eat, or should I start spoon-feeding you?” He asked, that easy smile appearing on his face once more. Hesitantly, you took the plate from his hands. He stayed there, sitting across from you, watching you lift the cup to your mouth. Sadly, you couldn’t deny your manners, and before you took a sip, you looked at him.

“Thank you, Finnick,” you mumbled.

“My pleasure, Darlin’,” he replied, grinning as you tucked into your meal.