#'yeah ive been really into the relationship between the body and the surface and i think large scale is the way to go about it'

[tothechaos]

(frantically googling) where can i special order drawing paper thats at least 6 feet in both directions

[niksixx]

Close to Perfect

Requested: My idea 

Pairing: The Dirt!Nikki Sixx x Fem!Reader 

Description: Your baby’s father doesn’t show up to the birth of your son, so Nikki takes his place. 

A/N: As always, your support is incredible. Reblog, comment, add tags <3 

Y/B/N: Your baby’s name

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on google. Credit to the owner.* 

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

In a room filled with three other people that are comforting you and doing all they can to make you feel safe, you’ve never felt more alone and afraid. Sweat slicks every crevice of your body as you try to focus on the nurses hooking you up to machines and not the bone crushing contractions you’ve been feeling for an hour.

Your due date wasn’t quite near, but your baby boy wanted to make his appearance to the world a bit earlier. Your water had broke suddenly in the kitchen as you were preparing dinner, almost dropping the butter knife as the liquid trickled down your thighs. In a panic, you called the only person you could think of in that moment: Your son’s father.

As he chose not to be in your son’s life, it shouldn’t have surprised you that he refused to bring you to the hospital either. Begging and pleading as the contractions grew more frequent and painful did nothing but cause him to hang up the phone.

The only other option at that time was to call a cab, tipping generously at the end as the cab driver had to deal with your moans and whimpers from the backseat. Luckily there was a nurse with a wheelchair waiting for you at the entrance to the hospital.

As the nurses finish adjusting the IV, you wiggle around in the bed to try and find a comfortable position. A growl erupts from your belly, and instead of being graced with substance, you’re presented with ice chips.

While the contractions were growing more painful, you still weren’t fully dilated enough to start pushing. You opted for the epidural, promising to yourself that your next pregnancy would be all natural.

After the nurses left to wait on other patients, the solemn reality hit you. You were about to become a first time mother, and you were going to have to do it alone.

Calling your child’s father was useless. He’d never show up. He didn’t care enough about the life he helped create, and you refused to believe that you even needed him there. You could do this just fine on your own.

And then the epidural had worn off and as you reached ten centimeters dilation, it was time to finally push. But as the nurses and obstetrician were helping you adjust for labor, your cell phone chimed next to you.

With a stretch, you clicked the speaker, hoping to make the phone call quick as you were only minutes away from your first push. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. You know that Def Leppard cutoff shirt I always wear?”

The doctor gives you a quizzical look. “Uh, Miss--.”

“Yeah, I do,” Trying to mask the groan of pain, you bite down hard on your lip. The intensity of the contractions is only growing stronger now, and you’re not sure how long you can last. “Listen, Nikki, now isn’t really a good time.”

“Wait, don’t hang up! I just need to know if I left it at your house last week. I can’t find it anywhere and Mick swears he didn’t steal it.”

Again, the doctor shoots you a look, one more annoyed this time. “Ma’am, we really need to--.”

“Nikki, I’m literally in the hospital about to give birth. Can the shirt wait?”

There’s a sharp breath on the other end after a long pause. Aside from your baby’s father, Nikki was the first person who had known about your pregnancy. You’d grown up together, and even visited Nikki and his band a few times while they were busy touring the world and playing music for anyone that’d listen.  “Right now?”

You nod. “Right now.”

He hesitates before asking the question he already knows the answer to. “Is he there?”

“No, Nikki. My water broke earlier and I called him to ask if he could bring me to the hospital. He hung up and I called a cab. Unfortunately, your shirt isn’t my main priority right now,” You laugh in good nature. Part of you is hurt, though. How could anyone neglect their responsibilities as a parent? How could anyone, any man, deny their child?

Neither one of you signed up for this life. The baby’s father had made it his priority to remind you that your child was merely an accident, and therefore he owed no responsibility for a child he never wanted.

Nikki had been more than a friend throughout your pregnancy. Caring for others was in his nature, apparently, but when it came to you, it felt different. He took care of you in ways he didn’t need to. Helping you bathe. Picking up food to ease your cravings. Holding you as you cried in his arms. He had always gone above and beyond for you even when he didn’t need to.

“I can be there in fifteen minutes,” There’s commotion on the other end of the line, most likely Nikki panicking to find his shoes and keys. Fifteen minutes isn’t ideal, and your doctor is certainly in a mood now as he stares at you with a blank expression, eyebrows pulled together. Another contraction hits and you grip the sides of your thighs tightly. “Y/N, I’m on my way. Don’t have that baby without me.”

~~~

Nikki is by your side shortly after your first push. Seeing him wide eyed and a bit frazzled eases your pain, and you’re glad he’s there now. You didn’t realize how much you needed his support.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He kisses your forehead quickly, reaching one arm around the pillow to cradle your head, other hand clasped tightly in yours. “Let’s have a baby, okay?”

You nod and focus on the doctor as he commands you to push. Unfortunately for the epidural wearing off, you feel every shred of pain. Sucking in a breath you push again and again, sweat beading your body as every ounce of energy is slowly being drained from your body.

“Baby’s crowning.”

Nikki gazes back at you, his look one of pure adoration. “You’re doing so good. Only a few more pushes okay? You can do this.”

His words make it feel possible. Your lips are dry so you lick them once before adjusting your grip on Nikki’s hand. “I can do this.”

“Ready, Y/N? And one...two...three…”

An ear splitting cry erupts throughout the room, and the weight is lifted off your shoulders as your squirming baby boy is placed on your chest. The blood and gunk on his tiny body isn’t even worth cringing over as you hold him against you. Tears course down your cheeks and drip off your chin, but Nikki is there beside you wiping them away, all the while completely mesmerized by your strength.

As much as you don’t want to let him go, you hand off your son to the nurses for a quick bath. Head against the pillow, your body is overcome with extreme fatigue. A hand comes up to your forehead, pushing the hair off your sweaty skin.

“I did it,” Pride swells in your chest. The morning sickness, the constant cravings, the heartburn, the back pain, everything was worth it. “I did it.”

And even pride swirls in Nikki’s heart. The road to your son’s birth hadn’t been smooth sailing. There were many bumps in the road, and Nikki knew more than anyone how much you had doubted yourself, your abilities to raise a child alone. But if anyone could overcome the adversity life threw at them, it was you. And you’d do it with passion and grace. “I’m so proud of you.”

~~~

Wrapped tightly in a white blanket, your baby boy is fast asleep against your chest. Your jealousy thickens as you observe his sweet little face sleeping so peacefully against your chest.

Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, Nikki pipes up from the chair by the window. “Are you tired? Do you want me to hold him?”

You’d have forever to hold your little boy, so you gingerly hand him over to an excited Nikki. After helping him reposition his arms to support the baby boy’s head, your own head sinks into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hi, Y/B/N. It’s me, Uncle Nikki. I’ve been friends with your mother for a while now, and I want you to know that you have the best mommy in the world.” Your eyes fly open as quick as they had closed, and the sight in front of you warms your heart. Pressing a delicate kiss to your son’s head, Nikki holds him close. “Somedays, she’s going to struggle though. And when she does, I want you to know that I’m always going to look after her. She can do this alone,” Emotion clouds Nikki’s voice. “But I want her to know she doesn't have to.”

Something in the atmosphere changes. The man in front of you cradling your son as if he were his own had transformed before your eyes. Your heart had always held a soft spot for Nikki, and growing up it wasn’t uncommon for adults to assume you were romantically involved. You’d always denied a relationship between you and Nikki, but as you stare at him softly singing a lullaby to your son, the possibility of you and Nikki entertaining something more than friendship rose to the surface.

“And there’s something I never want you to forget, little one,” Nikki speaks to your son, but his eyes, so full of something that can’t be described as anything other than longing, are zeroed in on your face. “Your mother, even with all her flaws, her quirks, and her insecurities, she’s as close to perfect as one can get. And to be loved by her is something out of a dream.”

[one-boring-person]

You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face. 

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss. 

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together. 

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface. 

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?" 

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?" 

"Should be." 

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age. 

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly. 

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit. 

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife. 

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire,  through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you." 

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted To You

Part VI: Hold On Loosely

Summary/Author’s Note: ITS BEEN SO LONG. I MISSED FRANKIE SO MUCH. also. Holy shit, I love you guys. Part I -- has been my first fic to reach 500+ notes and that is just bananas to me and also wild that it was Frankie that did it. He deserves all of the love. 

So, for those who have seen the movie know what is about to happen. But it might not be in the way you think. We get a little bit more Reader and Pope interaction and someone mentioned wondering about her relationship with Benny and I was like Oh perfect timing for this then...Enjoy. Gif credit to @pascalplease 

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope’s Sister!Reader Word Count: 4.1k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ Language, TOM (yeah he moved up), No one fucking listening to Frankie, Frustration, Intense situations, FUCKING murder, pining/longing, getting slightly turned on by Frankie piloting again--don’t lie we all do it, Frankie distress, blood/injuries

Part I * Part II * Part III * Part IV * Part V (bold means smut**)

[MASTERLIST]

--

“What’s my name?!” he yelled over the wind of the helicopter behind him.

“I-I don’t know,” She hugged her own body, clutching the duffel bag to her chest and looked at him with uncertainty. The wind blew her dark hair around her face and she made it a point to put herself between her younger brother and the man in front of her. 

“Your buddy back there--” he swung his arm around and pointed. “What’s his name?” She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. “I can just go ask him!”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Now,” he touched her arm and she had to fight not to shrug him off. He dipped his head and his tone was condescending. “When you two finally had sex--and you rolled over and said, ‘what’s your real name’--what’d he say?” 

“That never happened!” She shrugged him off then and snarled at him. “He told me you served together...and that you were honest.”

“Why’d he say that?” Tom leaned back in mild surprise.

“Because I asked if he trusted you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you cheating him…”

The chopper had landed on the Peruvian border just like Pope had promised. They had dropped off the informant and her brother and although you couldn’t hear what was being said, you could tell by Tom’s dramatic body language and the disgust on her face that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Your brother handed her their cut of the money and touched her face tenderly as she held onto his arm and they said their goodbyes. 

Tom stormed back onto the helicopter and sat down, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. You couldn’t help but think that he reminded you more and more of a child throwing a tantrum instead of a hardened military veteran leading a mission. It was as if he knew you were staring because he opened his eyes and looked at you. You averted your gaze quickly. 

Pope cleared the threshold of the copter and took Benny’s seat as the younger man went up to take his shift with Frankie in the cockpit. Your brother put his headset on and opened his arm so you could lean against him and hug his side. 

“You liked her, didn’t you?” you asked him, looking up with your head on his chest.

“I’m just glad she’s safe.” He said vaguely and you knew not to push the subject. He rubbed his hand up and down over your arm as if to warm you up and you let out a sigh of contentment. 

“She’s lying,” Tom’s voice crackled through the coms on the headsets and both you and Pope looked at him. 

“No, she’s not.” Pope said firmly and glared at the other man. 

“You know what we should have done?” Tom let his thought remain unfinished and you felt your brother tense under your arms. Your stomach dropped as you realized what Tom meant. Before either of you could say anything, Will spoke up, always the voice of reason.

“That’s one you wouldn’t come back from, brother,” he said. He was leaning back against a few of the duffel bags with his arm propped up to keep his side un-strained.

The four of you were quiet for a long time, each mulling over Tom’s words in your own way as the chopper whirred around you rhythmically. The dark sky was crystal clear and you watched as the city below you slowly started to disappear and give way to the dark tops of the trees. 

“You still doing okay?” Pope asked and you nodded. 

“I’m exhausted,” you said, trying your best to stifle a yawn with his shirt. “But I’m worried if I sleep I’m going to wake back up in that mansion.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud, but, however ridiculous, it was the truth. Every time you closed your eyes, it was as if you were back in that room, tied to that chair. The darkness that enveloped you wasn’t from sleep, it was the goddamn blindfold being put back over your eyes and it made your heart start racing as panic built in your chest. 

“Hey,” Pope said, dipping his head to look at you. “You know I was going to find you no matter what, right?” He gave you another squeeze. “I wasn’t leaving this fucking jungle without my little sister.”

You released a heavy breath and laid your head back against your shoulder, smiling slightly and forcing your mind to remember that you really were safe. Before you could start to drift off, you opened your eyes and leaned back enough to look at him. “If I promise to try and sleep, will you go check on Frankie?”

Pope chuckled and rolled his eyes before succumbing to your request. “Yes. You rest and I will go check on Fish.” As he got up, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over you before moving towards the cockpit. 

"The weight drags when we get into higher altitudes so I want to keep it under 5,000 feet until we hit the Andes. We'll hit the ocean in four hours." Frankie's voice came through the com on your headset and you suddenly felt better. Tom's voice came through confirming that they had heard him and understood. 

Four hours. Four hours and you would be headed home. After everything, it seemed like such a small amount of time and with Frankie at the helm, there was nothing to worry about. 

--

When you woke up, it was because you were shivering. The main hull of the helicopter had dropped a considerable amount as it flew through the night and started to rise in altitude the closer it got to the Andes. Your brother was still gone but his jacket was pooled in your lap where it had slipped down off your chest. Both of the Miller brothers were sleeping peacefully and you were glad that Will had finally managed to get comfortable. 

You sat up and slipped your headset back on so you could hear what they were saying. Standing up and stepping into the cockpit, the view out of the front of the aircraft was breathtaking. The mountains were huge, rocky crags that were covered in bright, white snow that reflected the sun off of its smooth surface. 

"I'm gonna try and head for the two peaks I saw on the map. If we can aim for that valley it will be easier," Frankie said.

"Roger," Tom replied and both men looked up as you stepped over the threshold and put your hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said quietly, giving a small smile as you gave his arm a squeeze. 

"It's beautiful," you said, clearing the sleep from your voice and nodding ahead of you. There was a clear divide between the lush, green trees on the mountains below and the drastic change in altitude that allowed for the snow to accumulate. 

"It is," Frankie nodded, reaching forward and flipping up a small switch before putting both hands back on the joy stick. "You finally rest?"

"A little," you said. You pulled your headset down to rest on the base of your neck so you could lean forward and kiss his cheek gently. He kept his eyes ahead but the action made him smile, making the small lines at the edge of his eyes crinkle. 

"Can you cut the domestic bullshit please?" Tom said, gruffly. "How steep do you think that is?" He pointed to the nearest peak and Frankie looked at him sternly. 

"It's about 11,000 feet. We can't make that. I gotta find another way." Frankie shook his head and readjusted his grip on the controls. 

"That's the quickest way to the ocean from here. You should go for it."

Both you and the man to your left looked at Tom in surprise and annoyance. Who was he to call the shots like this? This wasn't a matter of choice, this was a matter of if something was possible or not. You put your hand on Frankie's shoulder as the helicopter started to rise up the side of the mountain. 

Frankie dipped his head to look up through the windshield, glancing down at all of the controls and watching as the lights started to flash in warning. You looked over your shoulder as Pope came up to stand behind you and watch what was happening. 

"Alright, baby," Frankie said softly, talking to the aircraft. "Alright, baby, come on now." 

He caressed the controls like he had caressed you. His fingers were familiar with them, what made them tick, and how best to move each dial and joystick. Frankie had always flown with a meticulous care that never failed to impress you--it was his favorite thing in the world. His heart lived in the sky and you loved that about him. A loud and rapid beeping drew you from your thoughts as the control panel started blinking red and orange.

"We're redlining man," Pope spoke up behind you as he pointed to the sensors. 

"It's close though," Frankie grit his teeth and cursed under his breath. "It's too much weight. It's too much fucking weight. We're never going to make it."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, sternly.

"It means we're losing fucking money."

"You wanna leave 50 million dollars in the middle of the jungle?"

"You wanna get to the ocean?" Frankie snapped finally, his voice not leaving any room for argument from Tom. The other man glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder to address Pope.

"Alright, go do it."

The idea that Tom controlled what he imagined to be the fate of the money, but in reality it was all of your lives, was complete insanity to you--especially because he seemed to be so flippant about the importance of the latter. You looked over your shoulder as your brother lowered the hatch on the back of the aircraft and a bitterly cold wind filled the cabin. The Miller brothers started shoving duffel bags filled with money out into a free fall down to the snow covered landscape of the Andes. 

The immediate beeping of the control panel quieted down and Frankie gave an approving nod. “That's feeling better.” He dipped his head lower, leaning forward in his chair as if the movement would help the craft in its painfully slow ascend over the mountains. “Come on. Come on.”

You held your breath as Frankie crested you over the top of the mountain and, just like he promised, there was the ocean. The sun glittered off the water as it rose in the sky and you felt a sense of relief that was comparable to how you felt when Frankie had cut you loose from your bindings in the mansion. Both times he had brought you a sense of safety that made your heart stutter against your ribs. Then the beeping came back. The aircraft paused for a brief moment before it dropped into a free fall.

Your ass hit the metal floor hard and your stomach twisted into knots like you were on a roller coaster. Santiago’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you up against him as the copter shook and the metal screamed, alarms going off from multiple places on the dashboard. 

“What the fuck are you doing Catfish!?” Will yelled as he gripped the handle above his head and put a hand over the bullet wound on his side. 

Frankie’s voice came through the headset, calmer than he most likely felt. ”One of the gear boxes is blown--I don't want to go into a spin.” You all continued to fall in the air down the side of the mountain and his voice became strained as he gripped the joystick and tried to balance it out. “We might be in trouble here. I'm losing altitude--we should land. We should land now.”

“Crash land here we all die!” Tom yelled, looking at his pilot with wide eyes.

“I'm trying to get her back to flat--”

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom barked behind at the rest of you.

Frankie flew back down over the canopy of the jungle, the snow giving way to the lush green of the treetops as he tried to maneuver towards the village that you all had seen during your first initial climb. Benny leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he gripped the handle closest to him. You could feel your brother’s heart hammering against your back, but on the outside he remained calm for the sake of the rest of his crew. 

“I can't land this with the drop bag under us. We should lose the money and maybe we don't die.” Frankie turned and looked at Tom. The man glared at him but remained quiet. The fact that now, looking certain death in the eyes, Tom decided to shut his mouth, pissed you off. And apparently, it did Frankie as well because without Tom’s permission he looked over his shoulder and yelled over his mic on his headset. “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Fuck this,” you mumbled as you pulled Santiago’s arm from around you and scrambled to your feet. 

You had been on flights with Frankie enough times that you knew what the external load release looked like. It was the only fucking leaver on the wall, after all. You leaned over Benny and grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. The cargo doors in the floor opened slowly but the canvas net bag full of duffel bags stayed securely attached to the bottom of the helicopter. 

“Frankie! It’s not working!” You called out to him and he glanced back at you again.

“There's a manual override on the cargo hook!” His voice was full of worry as he told you to stop. “Let Benny do it--fuck!”

He cursed, watching as you ignored him and leaned over the open door to find the manual override. The wind from the blades and the altitude whipped your hair against your face and you grabbed onto the rope, feeling for a trigger mechanism of some kind. You cursed as black smoke billowed from the top of the aircraft and obscured your vision. The giant metal release was on the other side of the net and was way out of your reach. 

“Spot me!” You turned and yelled at Benny as he fell to his knees beside you and you ripped off your headset.

Benny nodded and helped you lower yourself through the hatch and onto the rope. He gripped your arm as you extended your leg and landed a firm kick with your booth onto the latch. When the bag fell, the helicopter gave a jolt as the weight shifted and Benny toppled through the hatch with you. You screamed as you heard Pope call your name and you looked up to see that the only thing that connected you to the copter was Benny’s grip. 

“Benny!” Will lunged for his brother and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. The ground was coming closer and closer as Frankie tried to level out the craft and land it in the middle of the field. 

“I can’t hold us both!” Benny yelled back at the blond. “We gotta jump!”

“No!” Pope reached through the hole in the floor but Benny was right. He didn’t give them any time to argue as he let go of the edge of the hatch and the both of you dropped the last twenty or so feet to the ground. 

You hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind from your chest. Bits of dirt flew into your mouth as you gasped and covered your face with your arm. As the helicopter touched down, dirt and debris whipped around in the air and you squinted to try and see through it all. The blade on the tail caught the dirt and the whole craft jerked sideways as huge chunks of metal flew directly toward you and Benny. 

“Get down!” He grabbed you and shoved you back down onto the ground covering you with his body as it continued to spin and jerk. The metal groaned, the blades squealed and all you could think of was if Frankie was still in control of it or if you were all just holding your breath and waiting for it to be over. 

Black smoke and chunks of upturned earth continued to fly long after the craft came to a stop but the blades still slowly continued to turn. Benny moved his body off of yours and helped you stand as you both took off running towards the wreckage. 

“Santi!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Here!” Your brother called back as Will popped the door open and they both started to climb up out of the sideways craft. “We’re fine!”

“Fish!” Benny yelled as he got to the front and your heart stopped. Both Frankie and Tom were not moving as fast as Pope and Will. The glass of the windshield was shattered, but still hanging in the frame and Benny quickly raised his knee and kicked it free in giant sheets.

Tom crawled out onto the grass and coughed, fresh blood coming from an abrasion on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Help Fish.”

As soon as Tom was out of the way, Benny got down and leaned in, grabbing the other man by the forearms and hauling him out onto the ground. 

“Frankie,” you breathed, running the rest of the way to him. Benny moved to the side as you approached and you threw yours arms around him tightly.

Frankie squeezed you tightly, before leaning back to hold you at arm's length. He dipped his head to look you in the eyes as he gripped your upper arms and shook you slightly. “What you thinking--what the fuck were you thinking?!”

You watched as blood slowly dripped down a fresh, large gash on Frankie’s upper cheek, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He couldn’t look away from you. His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving and even though his words were harsh, his tone didn’t hold any anger--it held fear. Your eyes burned and your chest felt tight, and the moment he saw it reflected on your face, his resolve crumbled and he pulled you back against his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me, baby,” He confessed as he pressed his lips to the top of your head and shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck.” He shook his head and looked up at the man standing behind you. “Thanks, Ben.”

Benny nodded as he helped Will jump from the door of the helicopter and Pope crawled out behind him, with his rifle clutched in his hand. He started tossing gear down to the ground and they passed around backpacks and guns. Frankie let you go reluctantly as Pope hopped down to the ground and handed him a new bulletproof vest. 

“They’re gettin’ into the fucking net,” Tom cursed and the rest of you looked up to watch as people from the nearby village had flooded the site where the bag had dropped. Sure enough, they were using tools and machetes to rip through the thick ropes of the drop net and get into the duffel bags. 

”What’s the plan here?” Pope said, propping his rifle on his arm and looking around.

“We’re getting that money back over the mountain and to the ocean,” Tom said, fastening his vest and grabbing his own weapon. “Benny, cover us from that treeline there.” He pointed to the right. “Fish, I want you at that vantage point over there.” He pointed to the left and then continued. “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they could have guns already trained on us from those watchtowers over there.”

“We got working coms?” Will asked and Tom shook his head.

“No, we’ll use hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can--we’ll signal when we think it's secure.” Tom looked to each of them to make sure they understood before nodding once. “Move out.”

As they all started to move in their assigned directions, Frankie moved his rifle to one hand, so he could take yours with his other. “You’re coming with me.” 

You didn’t argue, not wanting to leave his side regardless. You desperately wanted to inspect the cut on his face, but you knew while he was tasked with watching the back of Pope and Tom, Frankie wouldn’t dare think about himself. You could ask, but he wouldn’t let you, so what was the point? He moved you both up the hill and squatted low into the tall grasses of the field, pressing his right eye to his scope for a minute to make sure he had a shot lined up if he needed it. 

As you both watched the retreating forms of Tom and Pope walk towards the farmers, Frankie glanced at you. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches mainly,” you shook your head and looked down at your palms and arms. “That’s it. You’re bleeding, though.” You nodded towards his face.

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, like you knew he would. “Don’t do anything like that again.” His voice was flat and you fought the urge to snap back at him. The adrenaline had been high for you both, the last thing you needed was to fight with the man you currently needed most. 

“We both are going to do what it takes to get home--”

“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a badass--”

“Don’t pull that macho bullshit with me--”

The two of you glared at one another and then his face broke into a small grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about you being stubborn before looking back through his scope. You knew he was just worried. Was it reckless to do what you did on the drop net? Absolutely. But this entire trip had been nothing but the five of them risking their lives for you, and you were tired. Tired of being the reason that everyone you cared about in this fucking jungle was in constant danger. So, when Frankie told you to be smart, it was because he just wanted you home. He just wanted you safe. 

You stayed quiet as you both watched the scene unfold in the field below. Both Tom and Pope were talking with their hands, gesturing, and speaking quickly. Hearing what was being said wasn’t necessary, their body language was more than enough, this talk wasn’t going in their favor. 

“Pope, what's he reaching for? Is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke with his gun against his shoulder as he used the hand that wasn’t on the trigger to press the button on his radio.

No response.

“Pope, do you cop-”

“Frankie,” you touched his shoulder as you remembered the coms were dead from the crash.

Frankie leaned back and glanced at you before looking to his radio and cursing quietly. Pope had his arms out in a defensive position, speaking quickly over Tom who had his hand on his gun. This was bad. This was very bad. Frankie adjusted his grip on the rifle and his body went still. Tom pulled his gun and it was as if everything before you happened in slow motion. 

The villagers yelled and Tom used his handgun to fire into the chest of the one nearest to him. Then again and again. Blood blossomed to life through their clothing and they dropped to the ground. The second one of them took another step forward, Frankie pulled the trigger, doing what he was trained to do--protect those on your squad. 

His rifle echoed and ricocheted back on his shoulder and the man who had stepped towards Pope dropped just like the three before him. You watched as the other men gave the order for the villagers to get back and the screaming continued. Benny ran down the mountain and Frankie stood but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place as you saw Tom raise his gun at the unarmed man, now struggling to breathe, on the ground. You may not have liked him to begin with, but now you knew--Tom was going to get all of you killed. 

--

Perm Tag List Part 1:

@rae-gar-targaryen @zeldasayer @winters-buck @gooddaykate @jigglemiwa @seawhisperer @halefirewarrior @ripleyafterdark @phoenixhalliwell @thebakerstboyskeeper @honestlystop @lackofhonor @readsalot73 @cryptkeepersoul @skdubbs @cahooter @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @googiebeankat @dinohaze @saltywintersoldat @huliabitch @silver-lined-solitude @tainted-gay-ghost @roxypeanut  @hayley-the-comet @domino-oh-damn @maybege @corvueros @pettyprocrastination @qveenbvtch @hopplessdreamer   @ @apples-of-february @pocket-of-anxiety @marie-is-in-the-dark @agentpike @pascalplease @cosmicbug379         @your-pixels-are-showing @gamingaquarius @blushingwueen @crimsonandwhiteprincess @bluemoon-glen @river-soul @robbinholland @nerdypinupcrystal @fleetwoodmactshirt @jaime1110 @fioccodineveautunnale @fantasticcopeaglepasta @kid-from-new-zealand

[padfootagain]

Jealousy at the Party

Hey everyone! Here we go with our first request for my 5k followers celebration! Thank you @cp11​ for your request!

We're gonna be using prompt 59 for Poe :

59. "Yeah… alright, I'm jealous. What about it? Can't I be jealous if I want to?"

No warnings needed, just a fluffy little drabble! I hope you like it!

Pairing : Poe x reader

Word count: 1260 (all in one sitting, guys, I'm so proud!!)

The night was still young, and yet the party was going strong already. It wasn't so often that an occasion called for celebration amongst the resistance, but a victory against the First Order was the perfect excuse to forget about the hardships you had to go through for just one evening. And so, the whole base was in an exhilarated state, with laughter echoing throughout the hidden corridors under the surface of Yavin IV. The fresh breeze came in the buried settlement throughout grids carved in the ceiling and the few openings that led to the heart of the tropical forest, carrying a cool and sugary sensation welcome in the crowded area. But you didn't mind the many people around you and you didn't mind that it was as hot as Tatooine for once. You were drinking your favourite cocktail with your friends, celebrating, and for the remaining of the night, at least, life was good and tasted like freedom.

You were gone but for a moment, leaving Poe, Finn and Rose laughing to get a new drink. Some music was being played, but you couldn't identify the tune although it sounded familiar.

The hangar had been transformed for the night from a place of storage to a spot of happy partying, and between freighters and X-Wings, people talked about funny stories and played drinking games. You made your way through the laughing crowd to get your drink along with some koyo melon to help the liquor settle in your body and not get you too lightheaded too fast. You also picked up a slice for Poe without really thinking, knowing his love for the fruit.

"Who do we have here?"

You turned around as you recognized the voice of an old friend. Malas was from the same world as you, and you had known each other for several years. If you got along well in a work environment, you were also aware that he would have wanted for your relationship to become more than simply professional or friendly. And as you didn't see the same in him, it made you uncomfortable to spend time alone with him. He was a little too selfish, a little too proud, a little too overconfident for your taste. When you thought about it, he was a lesser version of your current boyfriend. Useless to say, he didn't stand a chance against the pilot who had won over your heart a couple of years before.

"Malas! How are you? It's been a while!" you welcomed him politely nonetheless.

"Good. 'Was on a mission on Hoth for a few months."

"I heard about it. How was it?"

"Cold. And far away from you."

You rolled your eyes. Here was the not-so-smooth talk again…

"Malas, I have a boyfriend."

"I know! I didn't mean it like that!"

"Really?"

"Of course! Where is your reckless pilot anyway?"

"Waiting for me. I was just getting a drink."

"I see. Well, if I were him, I wouldn’t leave you out of my sight."

"I don't either."

Both of you turned to your right, discovering a scolding Poe, his arms crossed before his chest and a belligerent frown crossing his brow.

"Good to see you," he welcomed Malas with a handshake that could have broken his hand.

"Same. How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Yeah, I'm great. Was just catching up with Y/N here."

"Yeah, I saw that," Poe answered with a nod, throwing to the man he took as a rival a stare that let him aware that Poe knew exactly what he was up to.

You rolled your eyes at these two idiots, deciding to save Poe from his obviously-growing anger.

"Well, it was nice seeing you again, but our friends are waiting for us over there."

And before Malas could protest, you were waltzing across the crowd and away from the man, Poe following suit, only after throwing another death-glare at the other rebel.

He heaved a sigh as you were now at a fair distance from Malas, and you let out a laugh.

"I can't believe after all this time you still get jealous of this guy."

"I'm not jealous. But have you seen how he looks at you? Doesn't he know by now you're taken?"

"Oh… I'm taken?"

"Very funny," he mumbled grumpily, making you laugh some more.

You handed him his piece of fruit.

"Here, I got this for you."

"Thank you," he whispered, a small smile he couldn't suppress coming to his lips at the soft gesture. "But that doesn't take away the fact that he's a jerk. Proper bantha shit…"

"You're jealous!" you sang teasingly, making him huff and cross his arms before his chest again as he stopped walking a few feet away from your friends.

"Yeah… alright, I'm jealous. What about it? Can't I be jealous if I want to?"

"Of course, you can," you laughed at him. "You're cute when you're jealous actually."

"Oh, shut it!"

"That's true!"

"Well, you sure aren't cute now."

"Oh! You don't mean that," you shook your head at his silly antics.

"I do!"

"No, you don't. Come on, give me a kiss."

"I don't think you deserve one."

"Kissy!"

You pouted your lips, and that was it, you could see it in his eyes how you won him over so easily. Damn, as his heart switched to an erratic beating rhythm, Poe wondered how it was even possible to be as smitten with someone as he was with you. But then, to him, everything about you was like a miracle.

"Alright… come here."

When he gently cupped your face in his large hand, and pulled you to him to press his lips to yours, you felt his kiss all the way to your toes, making every fibre of your being ignite in a firework, like it always did when he kissed you. And all in all, you found it cute that Poe was jealous, because when you felt this way with a simple kiss, how could you ever want to be with anyone else but him. It made it hilarious, really, how silly it was of him to imagine you could desire to kiss anyone after you had kissed him.

"I love you," you whispered, dropping a little kiss to the tip of his nose, making him smile again, the best sight in the galaxy, for sure.

"I love you too. But if I see this guy play that game with you again, I'll blast his balls."

You exploded with laughter, the most marvellous sound in the galaxy, he was sure of it.

"Poor man! Don't do that to him!"

"Oh I would. You know I would!"

"How would you do that? That's a very little target to hit!"

Poe chuckled at your joke, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer as you crossed the distance back to the group of your friends you had left waiting for you.

"Finn can help me! Right?"

"Help you to what?" the rebel asked with a suspicious look.

"Blast off Malas' balls."

Finn shook his head.

"No, Poe. We're not gonna do that."

"I didn't say that we are going to do it now. I said that if he tried to play flirty with Y/N ever again, I would do that."

Finn merely opted for a facepalm while Rose was laughing her arse off at your boyfriend's silliness. And you soon joined her.

He was an idiot sometimes. But he was your idiot, and there was really no need for him to be jealous of anyone.

You loved him too much for that.

[myleftpinkytoe]

Frequent, severe headrushes are super weird, bc from the outside it LOOKS super freaky. It's always a fun time (sarcasm) when the uninitiated see a particularly bad one, bc from their perspective it goes like this (steps usually overlap slightly):

1. Me, blinking: "oh, um. Don't freak out"

2. Eyes go unfocused. I stop responding to things said to me

3. I reach for something sturdy, generally miss, then pitch alarmingly to the side as I claw ineffectually at whatever I reached for while falling to the ground

4. On my way down, I begin to shake and twitch uncontrollably

5. I get to the floor, where I sit for a few seconds, still twitching & shaking, then blink a few times. Optional: I begin to gasp for breath.

Which, from the outside, looks fucking insane! Several people have said "you just had a seizure!" (they're not seizures! I'm completely aware the whole time!).

On the inside, it feels like this:

1. Dizziness & tunnel vision. I now have 0-2 seconds to sit down or grab something before I lose the ability to do that in a controlled manner

2. Vision goes. If it's a bad one, hearing is also gone. I can still talk though, so I might say something like "im ok! This is normal! I'll be fine in a minute!" (if it's not REALLY bad, that is)

3. Balance goes. This has a big range of results, ranging from needing to lean against a wall/object/person, to suddenly sitting on the floor, to (my favourite :/) not being fast enough to react before my vision goes and looking like I'm clawing at the object bc I can't see it and I'm no longer 100% sure where it is in relation to my body any more and my fingers are shaking and I can't get a fucking GRIP ON IT. This can also lead to a slow slide to the ground, so like: unfocused eyes, clawing at the wall as I slowly collapse downwards. Best result is getting a firm grip on something then locking my knees and elbows so I don't brain myself during the next step

4. Muscle spasms! Usually happens as I'm falling! My limbs start twitching uncontrollably, which can make my slow, clawing descent look even more alarming! If I'm grabbing something, it also looks alarming!!! If I'm sitting on the floor, is ALSO looks alarming!!!!!

5. Like 5 seconds of waiting for it to pass, shaking uncontrollably, holding onto whatever I can for dear life, unable to see or hear anything, sometimes repeating "I'm OK! Just wait, I'm OK!" if I remember to breathe!

6. (Optional) vision clears and I begin gasping for breath bc sometimes I hold onto whatever I grab so tightly that I forget to breathe! You know when you brace against something and you hold your breath automatically? Yeah, hard to remember to breathe when everything is a spinny, purple-black-green mass of wooOOOAAAAAHHH FUCK

7. Things clear up. I stand up straight and apologize. Someone tells me to drink more water. I laugh awkwardly.

I've hurt myself like 2 times but I've fallen >100 so the track record isn't terrible! It almost always happens within 30s of standing up (although one time it was like 2 minutes later which was inconvenient bc I'd made it to a busy hallway :/), and it's worse if I'm tired, stressed, hungry, or dehydrated, but it also happens when I'm none of those things. It's worse if I've been sitting for a long time, but it can also happen after sitting for 2 minutes.

It's happened a few times when I'm still sitting and I yawn. One time, it happened when I was sitting with someone, and I was like "oh one second", and I folded forward and put my head on my knees to just shake it out, and the person I was with panicked and tried to grab me, and accidentally Kneed Me In The Head! That was a weird time bc like they KNEW I did this all the time so 🤷. School was a good time (sarcasm), bc 5 minutes between classes to get across the building meant I didn't have the luxury of standing up slowly and I fell over like 4 times a day while teachers were like "👀 u ok?"

Sometimes the head rushes are so mild I can mostly ignore them. If I'm walking down an empty hallway and my vision is like "goodbye" but my balance is mostly fine, I'll sometimes just keep walking, maybe list to the side slightly. I prooobably shouldn't do that, but if you're in a busy hallway with a lot of people and you suddenly stop, people will sometimes shove you! Which is annoying! Plus, ive only walked into someone/something while doing this like 3 times in my entire life so again not a terrible track record. It's alwaya fun to walk into someone who came around a corner, blindly grab them bc FUCK, then be like "oh sorry I couldn't see haha".

I've gotten tests done, I've gotten my heart checked, blood drawn, the whole shebang, and apparently I'm fine and just have, like, unusually low blood pressure? Although I haven't actually done that table tilt test, so who knows! It mostly doesn't interfere with my life too much (those 2 injuries happened when I was admittedly way more dehydrated than I should have let myself get), except for Freaking People Out. Honestly people insisting I go to the ER is way more inconvenient than like 90% of the episodes.

I dont really have a reason for posting this, except to maybe ask that people freak out less when it happens? Even if it WAS a seizure, you really should not grab people during an episode, and I've been hurt by people trying to help me more than anything else (those 2 times aren't including other people hurting me while trying help). If we have a close relationship, I might grab onto YOU to hold myself up, and you can definitely hold me back when I do that, but otherwise if I'm falling and shaking, then I can't really control the direction I go in and a SURPRISING number of people end up kneeing me while moving to try to catch me! Also, holding my head directly on a hard, flat surface is WAY more likely to hurt me than letting me hover/ put my own head on my arms so maybe don't force my head down! I don't know why people do that! It hurts!!! If anything, you could put your hand between my head and the hard surface, so I have a soft bumper to hit (tho I almost definitely don't need it tbh), but honestly getting into that position is more likely to smack me in the face so maaaybe just don't.

Oof. You know, I'm always treating this like no big deal, but laid out in a post like this, it DOES seem like a lot? Maybe once the pandemic calms down here I should go get another opinion 🤔

[haruno-sakura-san]

Can't remember if I posted this before, but I was reading through my notes on my phone and found it. Either way, enjoy this playful one shot with Sakura and a mystery man!

🌸❓

"Rough day?" A man who slid into the seat next to Sakura at the bar asked. "None of your business." She snubbed him. "It's been a while since ive seen a leaf nin drink like that," he observed unprompted. She mentally noted that she wasn't wearing her heite. He was either assuming from her gear or he recognized her. "I'm off duty." "I would hope so." Her gaze cut back over to him. A hood and tinted glasses obscured any identify features, but even so he looked incredibly mundane. In her line of work, that was also incredibly dangerous. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy-" "That assumptions a bit premature." "But I'm not here to meet anyone so if you don't mind-" "Actually I do." She glared at him for a long moment, not wanting to be interrupted again. "See, I'm waiting for someone myself." He offered finally. "You don't say" her tone thick with disinterest. "But I'm beginning to think I've been stood up." He sounded more amused than put out. She wondered if it was some kind of pickup strategy to get her to feel bad. "I can't imagine why." She said in the same flat tone. "My thoughts exactly."

Sakura made a sharp sound of disapproval. "My deepest sympathies. I don't see how this has anything to do with me." "Well, it really doesnt, on the surface. But you see, here I was feeling sorry for myself when I see you stomping in here, looking like you've just dragged yourself through a pigsty-" "It was a river bed." "Oh thank you- a river bed. Possibly the sorriest sight I've seen all day - not that I would normally say such a thing to a lady. I'm sure you look at least pleasant under normal circumstances." "Does this story have a point?" Feeling her anger swell at his commentary. "Of course, I just thought it might be nice to commiserate together - one passing stranger to another." She hates the cocky way he inclines his head, gesturing between them with his glass. "No, thanks." "Oh come on - why else come to a bar?" "For a drink - unbothered." "If that were the case, then I'd think the liquor store down the street would have done the job." "And what, have a few drinks at the store front? They have laws against that, you know." "You dont have a hotel room to drink in?" "Of course not" "Interesting." He purred. She realized she said too much. "So your plan was to get tipsy and then travel back to konoha or wherever your headed, seemingly alone, in the middle of the night." "I don't have to explain myself to you." "No, I think I've got a good handle on the situation without any explanation. Where are your teammates anyway? Isn't there someone around to keep you from making dangerous decisions like this. A captain maybe or a boyfriend?" Sakura slams her glass down against the wood of the bar. "For your information, I can more than take care of myself. I have an extremely high alcohol tolerance. And I've had too long a day for a pretty boy like you to be picking at me when all I want to do is have a drink in the peaceful Haven that is my own mind. So shut your trap. Am I clear?" "No, I have several questions." She snarls and begins to crack her nuckles in preparation to put this idiot though a wall when the bar tender yells, "No fighting in my bar! Take it outside if you want to act like animals." She settles back into her seat. "Sorry, sir. No need for that. This poser isn't worth the energy," she grumbles under her breath. "Lets backtrack to pretty boy. That had a nicer ring to it." Clenching her jaw, she takes a deep breath, exhales and takes a long drag on her drink. "So are you going to tell me the river bed story, Pocahontas?" "If I do, will you leave me alone?" "It certainly won't hurt your chances" She huffs. "Fine. I got caught in a fishing net." There was a beat of silence. "And?" She gave him a long-suffering look. "And was dragged behind a fishing boat." His eyebrows rose. "And how did that happen?" "I was pushing the boat. It was beached on a shallow part of the river." "Pushing it?" "Yeah." "Remind me to tip that bartender for not letting you deck me into next week." She smirked into her drink. Damn straight. "So when the boat broke free these fishermen did what? Cast their nets right done on top of you?" "Yup. I had to cut myself free and everything." "No good deed goes unpunished I guess." "Technically it wasn't a good deed, they were paying me to help." "That's even worse. And no one noticed you were missing onboard?" "Well, they wouldn't let me on the boat in the first place -" "Why not?" "It's bad luck." "Bad luck?" "To have a woman on board." "Wait a moment. So before the ship got stuck in the first place, while it was sailing, where were you? Nearby on the shore?" "No. I was running alongside them in the water." He laughed outright. "Running alongside them. That's too good. They didn't even give you rowboat." Her face flushed. She hadn't thought to ask for a row boat. "They were absolute assholes. Usually I can take quite a bit of crap from a client, but when he told me to pay for the net." "Pay for the net!" "And the lost profits for the day" "Ha!" "I told him just where he could shove his

lost profits and came to the nearest bar. I feel a little less sorry for myself now. Glad I could help. Now leave me be." "You don't want to hear my story?" "Not part of the deal. Now scram." He pouted, cheek resting on his hand. "But we were getting along so well." "You have a very twisted sense of relationships if you think that was getting along well." "I cannot argue with that." She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bickering, but she was finally feeling a little unwound. Studying his profile for a moment, she thought it must definitely be the alcohol. "If you're going to stare, i might as well tell you my story." Definitely the alcohol. "I wasn't staring." She huffed, turning sharply away "Would admiring be more accurate?" "Do you ever shut up?" "For the majority of the time yes I do. It's quite liberating to go on and on like this. Strangers make some of the best conversation. You don't have to hold back because they will never see you again, probably not even remember speaking." She hated that he was right. She also hated that she couldn't see his eyes, instead watching his lips move. Kami must hate her because he had rather nice lips. "You're admiring again." They said. "Staring," she corrected. "Staring then." He said in a low voice, leaning in slightly. "Tell me your story." She said, trying to break the moment by divert this exchange to something hopefully safer for her psychy. Those damn lips curlled up in a feline grin. "Of course, my little mud pie." "Don't push it." She snapped, "You were meeting someone." "Yes, I've been seeing them for some time now. We are both wonderers so we meet about once a month. " "How long is some time now?" "Hmm, about ten years maybe." "And you guys haven't made it official yet?" "Well, it's complicated. They are a little old for me, and I'm not sure what society would think." She got the feeling he was making fun of her, but didn't get the joke. "They've never once been late or missed a meeting. I'm a little worried you see." For the first time since meeting the guy, Sakura felt a little bad for him. "Plus theyve got hands and eyes that wander a bit too much for my liking." "Sounds like they finally got bored and left." She commented. "Well. Even so, the meetings were as much about business as pleasure." "And just what kind of business are you in exactly?" "I'd say we were in the same field." She scoffs, looking him up and down again, not able to make out anything helpful from his form from under his travelling cloak to back up his claim about being a Shinobi. It was convenient line for civilian men who hit on kunoichi, so she rolled her eyes. "Sure you are." "Don't believe me?" "I believe you'd say just about anything to get on my good side."

"Hmm," his lips curled in that feline way, "And I thought leaf nin we're very skilled at seeing underneath the underneath." She froze, recognizing her sensei's phrase. "Who exactly did you say you were meeting again?" "I didn't." She slowly turned toward him, hand sliding to her thigh pouch under the bar, but it was too late. Here eyes were locked on his red, glowing gaze, pin wheels spinning. She felt her consciousness being torn from her body and into the inky black of his sharingan.

🌸❓

Quite sure this was supposed to be Itachi but it's quite OOC for him. So I'll leave it to you reader to fill in who it is. I guess I like Shisui for it myself but don't limit yourself haha.

[4kominato]

A/N: just thought id write something a little more realistic to what id possibly do irl... the whole sex thing aint really my vibe (i admit, it is nice in fics though). its a bit ironic how soft and understanding ive portrayed Mei here 🙃 but idk, my brain really liked him for this fantasy for some reason ~ kuri

Pairing: Narumiya Mei x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff? Smut? (me… expressing my feelings?) - SEXUAL CONTENT

to save you all from disappointment...

[[ OVERVIEW ]] vibrator, male masturbation, fem!voyeurism

Word Count: 1,752

Today is one of those days that you just want to feel good. With the stress of school and work starting to pile up, you decide to reserve some time for yourself to relax and unravel on a day that your boyfriend said he’d be back late. Having been in just an oversized t-shirt and your panties all day, you don’t bother to undress, simply pressing the bullet vibrator that Mei had gifted to you a few months ago for your two year anniversary over the thin material of your underwear and letting the powerful toy effortlessly do its job. The bundle of nerves unravelling in your core has your toes curled and thighs quivering in anticipation of your much needed high, but you’re alarmed by the sound of footsteps approaching the door, making you scramble to turn off the noisy device.

“I’m home!” your vivacious boyfriend announces as he emerges through the bedroom door, “I was able to get out of practice early today!”

“O-oh! That’s good!” you answer nervously, watching as Mei changes out of his uniform and into more casual clothes. After tossing his practice wear into the nearest hamper, he immediately joins you in bed and pulls you into a quick kiss as a greeting.

“So what did you do today?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

“Uh, not much honestly…” you mutter, awkwardly averting eye contact with the painstakingly oblivious boy.

“Did you at least enjoy your day off?”

“Mm… I suppose…”

Finally picking up on your uncomfortable body language, Mei scoots away from you with a worried look and asks, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine!” you quickly assure, feigning a smile in hopes that he’ll drop the issue, but he doesn't. Pouting at you, he reaches out to hold your hand which is balled in a tight fist to conceal your bullet, considering you had nowhere else to hide it with Mei barging in so suddenly.

“Why are you clenching your fist?” he questions, caressing your whitened knuckles with his thumb, “Are you hurt?” Pursing your lips, you remain silent and unwilling to provide an answer for a brief moment, but when you meet his troubled gaze, you feel the concern radiating from his bright blue orbs and can’t help but feel bad for making him anxious over something so miniscule. Letting out a deep sigh you finally uncurl your fingers, releasing the cylindrical piece of plastic into your lover’s palm, which he recognizes immediately seeing how his eyes widen in shock.

“I was using it just before you came in…” you disclose quietly, unable to look at him directly.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he replies immediately and places the novelty back into your care, “You should have said something earlier. I would’ve left you alone.”

“I didn’t want to just kick you out… Having you home early was a nice surprise.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it now then, alright? I’m going to start preparing dinner.”

Just as he climbs off of the bed, you blurt a quick “Wait!” before he can leave the bedside and you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest. “Stay.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, he strokes the back of your head with one hand and holds you in a tight embrace with the other before responding, “You don’t want to do it anymore?”

“Well… I was thinking…” you start, still hesitant about whether or not you should share with him one of your little reoccurring fantasies.

“You were thinking?” Mei repeats after a long silence, your cliffhanger spawning curiosity within him.

“Um, it’s… kind of embarrassing actually…” you murmur before leaving him hanging yet again.

“You can’t just say that and then change your mind,” he whines and pinches your cheek, “C’mon, just say it. The suspense is killing me.”

You can’t disagree with his point, considering you’d already opened your mouth, it’d be rude to back down now. If you didn’t want to tell him, you shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“I… I was thinking…” you start again, your reluctance to confess what was on your mind causing you to stumble over your words, “I-it might be… well uh… a little weird… b-but um… maybe… you can… y’know… use it on me…” Pulling away from his body, your trembling hand places the toy back into Mei’s calloused one, and while he quickly accepts it from you, his furrowed brows seem to portray a different message.

“Are you sure?” he asks lovingly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to, but… would you enjoy it?”

“I… I’d like to enjoy it… I don’t know for sure if I will,” you admit, still apprehensive of the idea, but hoping you’ll muster up the courage to follow through, “I know it’s not much… but I think it might be good for us to share intimate moments like this together.”

“I’m already satisfied with what we do. You don’t have to force yourself to do more.”

“I want to… for you. Even if we don’t go all the way, I really want to let my walls down with you. It’s the least I can do with how understanding you’ve been over the course of our relationship.”

“How could I not be when I have the best girlfriend ever,” he smiles, cupping your face in his hands, “If you really want to, I’d love to do this with you, but if you aren’t enjoying it, don’t hesitate to tell me, okay?”

Nodding up at him, he rejoins you on the bed and gestures for you to sit in his lap, so you do, positioning yourself in between his legs and without hesitation, he wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you flush against him, he peppers soft kisses down your neck, making you hum in satisfaction at the feeling and roll your head back onto his shoulder, granting him further access and he’s quick to accept the invitation.

“I’m ready when you are,” he mutters against your neck between kisses.

“I’m ready…” you answer under your breath, unsure if there is actually truth in the words you’d just spoken. You’d already made up your mind about going through this and you had no intentions of backing down, but the nerves that follow are no joke, considering it isn’t easy allowing yourself to be so vulnerable in front of someone, even should it be someone you’re comfortable with.

At the sound of the obnoxious buzzing initiated by Mei turning on the device, you unintentionally tense up and he feels it, so he immediately turns it back off to check on you.

“Are you okay? You still want to do this?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly, reaching out toward the hand which held the vibrator and turning it back on, “I’m just nervous… but that’s to be expected, right?”

“Well yeah… but don’t forget that you can stop me at any time. Okay?”

Giving him a final nod, Mei proceeds to lower his hand between your legs, pressing the smooth surface of the toy against your clit. You jolt at the abrupt wave of pleasure that sears through your core, but it’s nice for once to be experiencing this while being held in the arms of the one you love most. Having him there somehow adds an extra warmth that you can’t really explain and on top of that, with him doing all the work, you can relax more than you’d normally be able to.

The feeling of him growing hard behind you only adds to the sensation, every twitch of his cock turning you on more than you thought possible, and with heat radiating from your sweet spot and a familiar tension rapidly building up below, you know you won’t last much longer. Entwining your fingers with the ones that lovingly encompass your frame, you squeeze tightly on his hand upon climaxing while the rest of your body convulses rhythmically in response to the sheer bliss rushing through your body.

“I love you,” Mei whispers, turning off the vibrator and setting it aside as you fall limp against him, gradually ascending from your peek.

“I love you more,” you argue breathily, pulling his arms tighter around you while you lay slumped against him, eyes still comfortably closed.

“Impossible,” he refutes with a peck to your cheek before trying to discreetly untangle his arms from yours and urge you off of his lap, “But if you’ll excuse me… I have things to take care of now too.”

“I wanna watch,” you plead, clinging onto his arm to prevent him from leaving the bed.

“Okay,” he agrees and frees his stiff member from the confinement of his briefs. The tip is glistening with pre-cum and you can’t resist swirling the substance around his engorged head, forcing a soft groan out of him.

He allows you to continue toying with the top half while his fingers encircle the base of his shaft, milking out more of his essence for you to play with, but you only indulge for a while more before finally withdrawing your hand and snuggling close to him, pulling him into a heated kiss as he starts to pump himself at a steady pace. Slipping a hand under his shirt, you trace over his tensed abdomen, your extra touch helping to entice his orgasm.

“Pull it up,” Mei speaks desperately, his voice raspy as his hand movements start to speed up. Recognizing his end is nearing, you do as he says, lifting the hem of his shirt to at least his chest and stealing one last peck from him before letting him chase his high.

“Fuck,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his brows knitted together and eyes squeezed shut while his hips jerk upward, his thick seed shooting out in thin ropes over his smooth abdomen.

You can’t help but admire his post-orgasm appearance for a moment before making your way to the master bathroom, retrieving tissues to clean up the mess. There’s just something about him lying there peacefully with beads of sweat on his temples and the sound of his labored breathing that gives him a different glow in comparison to his usual handsome features. It’s really a beautiful sight to witness.

Noticing your staring, a puzzled look forms on Mei’s face before he addresses it, “I know I’m handsome, but you don’t need to stare.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, playfully elbowing him in the arm making the two of you break out into a fit of laughter. It ends with Mei pulling you on top of him and pressing his lips against yours, but momentarily separating them to speak.

“I love you so damn much… I hope you know that I’d do literally anything for you.”

“I do, and that’s why I love you even more.”

[lovelyshawnn]

ill take care of you

Alpha!Y/N x Omega! Shawn

a/n: hey yall this is my first werewolf imagine so pls bare w me!! in all the werewolf! shawn imagines ive read, its always shawn thats the alpha so i thought id switch it up a bit lol *SMUT WARNING *

I rubbed my hands together, trying to conduct some heat within the palms of my hands. Even though I am a werewolf and that should mean I’m basically warm all the time, I still had a hard time defrosting my fingers in the middle of my living room. Shawn, who was the complete opposite of me, reached his warm hands out and rubbed them against mine, blowing some of his hot breath on to it while my fingers slowly regained feeling. This even colder than usual weather could only mean one thing: winter was approaching. And with winter approaching, that meant my heat was also approaching. As a female alpha, my heat would hit me 10x harder than average werewolf. Which is exactly why I called a pack meeting today at our usual spot in my living room. I quietly thanked Shawn before returning my attention to the rest of my pack.

“So,” I stated clearly as I stood in front of the group, “I’m sure you all know what this cold weather means.” Knowing looks were exchanged within the pack.

“That means I’m going to be at the cabin all next week. Brian, you’re going to be in charge while I’m gone.” The beta’s face instantly lit up at the sound of his name, a look of surprise and confusion plastered his face.

“Me? Doesn’t Shawn usually take your spot?” Brian questioned.

I cleared my throat and answered sternly, “Shawn is coming with me.”

A look of realisation flashed by his face, as his eyes travelled to his best friend who was standing there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. “Bro...nice!” Brian whispered his sexual innuendos to Shawn, giving him a fist bump and a pat on his back as the rest of the pack roared with laughter and clapping. I rolled my eyes at the sight. Everyone in the pack assumed Shawn would be the dominante one in the relationship considering he was about a foot taller than me and built purely from muscle. But little did they know, Shawn was always a whiney little mess when he was underneath my finger tips. And with an alpha’s heat in sync with her omega’s rut, there was no way he was going to last a week in that cabin with me.

“Yeah yeah, whatever Brian. Just try not to get anyone killed while I’m gone,” I said with an assertive but joking tone, “Pack meeting adjourned. We leave tomorrow and I still haven’t started packing.”

“Aye aye Captain!” Brian said with a sarcastic cheery attitude before leaving the house with the rest of the pack trailing behind him. I watched them through the window, making sure each one got into their cars safely before making my way up into my room with Shawn hot on my heels. His huge smile spread across his face as he pulled out my duffel bag from my closet before plopping himself on the bed and making himself comfy.

I eyed him suspiciously, “Why are you so excited to help me pack?”

“I’m glad you asked!” he perked up immediately before heading to my drawers. He opened one of the drawers before picking out a black lacy matching underwear and bra set, holding the delicate and dainty fabric between his hands. “I’m thinking you should bring these,” he replied with a devilish smirk and a wink that made me weak at the knees.

I laughed and rolled my eyes before snatching the fabric from his fingers, “You sure you can handle that, baby boy?”

His demeanor instantly changed as he heard the pet name that he adored hearing in bed. “Y-yes. Of course,” He nervously chuckled as I took a few steps closer to him, pressing my body against his. His throat felt dry all of a sudden as he stood with a clear view of my breasts in my v neck shirt.

“Oh, I don’t know, Shawn.... remember what happened the last time I wore this?” I said, biting my lip to hold back my smirk. Shawn’s face immediately blushed a bright red from the memory, his eyes instantly shutting close as he cringed.

“You almost came in me and got me pregnant with your pups, baby.” I said in a hushed tone as I trailed my fingers up and down his chest. I leaned closer to him, standing on my tippy toes to plant kisses all over his neck before whispering into his ear, “Only this time, I don’t think I want to stop you.”

Shawn’s eyes immediately widened, his hard on aching from the tight jeans he was wearing. In the few months that we’ve been dating, he had never experienced sex with me during my heat, and even though he mentally prepared himself to be able to handle the intesity, my last statement basically erased all of his hard work. His head immediately tilted back, mouth open in pleasure as I palmed him through his jeans. He was overwhelmed with my smell, even stronger than all those times before because of my heat approaching. He let out a quiet groan, grasping at my wrist as my hands worked faster. “Baby, I-“

Thats when I removed my hand completely, backing away from him and walking across the room to my closet before lifting up hanger with a black shirt on it. “So I was thinking of bringing this shirt to match with my jeans?”

He stood there gobsmacked, chest heaving as I clearly left him high and dry. He rolled his eyes, grabbing a nearby pillow and tossing it at my face playfully, “You’re such a goddamn tease. Pack the pink shirt instead, it matches better.”

I laughed at him trying to adjust the growing tent in his tight pants. “Me? A tease? Never.”

Shawn flopped back onto his bed and rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re gonna be the death of me, honey,”

I carefully folded the pink shirt Shawn was referring to before placing it into my duffle bag and making my way to him. I leaned over his body, giving him a quick peck on the nose, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you. Just wait one more night.”

Shawn nodded, completely understanding. It was too dangerous for you two to go at it right now, especially with my nosey ass neighbors who would definitely file noise complaints. Shawn was actually really excited to be spending the week with me at the cabin, which was far out and isolated in the woods. He’d been there a couple times but always with the pack, never alone with me. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he could finally take you wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted on every surface in the house. He had his thoughts especially on that white marble countertop in the cabin’s kitchen, wondering what I’d look like bent over it while he was making love to you. “You okay?” My sultry voice called out to Shawn, who looked zoned out and deep in thought.

“Never better,” Shawn replied, shaking his head to rid his dirty thoughts before helping me out with packing to distract himself from his growing erection.

~

“Hey Bri!” I chirped, picking up the phonecall from my packmate and putting it on speakerphone as I drove.“Hey Y/N! Hows it going so far? Have you guys made it to the cabin yet?” Brian’s voice sounded from the phone.

“Yuup, just pulled up right now,” I replied with one hand on the steering wheel of my blacked out Jeep and one hand on the phone. Shawn was sitting on the passenger side, his hand resting on my thigh and rubbing circles on it with his thumb the whole ride here. To say I was excited was an understatement. His seemingly innocent actions were enough to get me hot and bothered, wanting him to inch his fingers up just a little higher. That was probably why I drove 20 mph over the speed limit to get to our destination faster.

“Great! You guys got everything you need? Food, clothes, protection?” Brian said through the phone. I instantly blushed, looking over to Shawn who surely heard the whole thing. He looked at me with wide eyes, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, fuck off, Bri,” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me, “Tell the others we got here safe, okay?”

“Yup! Have fun, lovebirds,” He replied before ending the call. He was so going to get whats coming to him during the next pack training. By the time I ended the call, Shawn was already grabbing our things and heading inside the cabin. I followed him inside and immediately made a beeline to the kitchen to look for some snacks.

I heard the loud thumps of Shawn’s footsteps before seeing his body emerge from the hallway. “Babe?”

I looked up from the bag of chips I was currently devouring, “yeah?”

Shawn walked towards me until he was right in front of me, placing one of his hands on my waist while the other flew to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously. “I... sort of, uhm, forgot the condoms?” he said.

I chuckled at how he looked so cute when he was nervous. “Thats okay,” I said while looking at him through my lashes, “We don’t need it.”

“You know I like feeling all of you inside me,” I said, fingers sliding beneath his sweatpants and briefs before palming him in my hand. His breath hitched and I instantly heard his heart beat pick up, pounding in my ears. His smell was always so damn intoxicated when he was aroused, a strong mix of musk.

“Fuck, please,” he whined while throwing his head back in pleasure, his hips lightly thrusting against my hand. “What do you want, baby boy? Use your words,” I said with a slight smirk before I attached my lips to his neck, sucking soft bruises that would heal quickly anyways.

“I want your mouth, please,” He panted. I gave his lips one last peck before I turned his body so that his backside was leaning against the counter. I dropped down to my knees, taking off both his briefs and sweats in one swift motion before circling my tongue around his tip.

At the feeling of that, he immediately let out a moan and threw his head back again, fingers immediately finding the back of my head. I pushed his hand away, “Touch me and I’ll stop.”

Shawn lightly pouted, but didn’t want this feeling to ever stop, so he gripped the edge of the counter behind him until his knuckles turned white. I licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip before circling it one last time and finally taking him into my mouth. I bobbed my head slowly, making sure to not to give him too much too soon.

He whimpered as he desperately tried to stop himself from grabbing my hair to pick up the pace. His thighs tensed under my fingertips as he held himself back from thrusting into my mouth. I smiled, lips still wrapped around him. “Good boy,” I praised him, knowing how much he enjoyed that, before sinking my mouth onto him and taking every inch until it hit the back of my throat.

He let out an animalistic growl, eyes starting to shine a golden brown as he couldn’t control how good it felt. Watching how his chest rose while his cheeks became a bright shade of pink, I moaned with his dick still in my mouth, sending vibrations through him. I released him with a pop before standing up on my feet again when Shawn instantly grabbed my hips and pulled me closer to him, kissing me passionately before turning me over and bending me across the counter.

He lifted my skirt and pushed my panties to the side before trailing his finger up and down my slit, gathering the wetness before pushing his digit inside. He pumped in and out a couple times, moans tumbling out of my mouth. He withdrew his fingers and rubbed the wetness all over his dick before sliding in his cock effortless. He hissed at the feeling of my tight pussy around him. “Mm, you feel so good baby,” I moaned out.

My praise only egged him on more, his thrusts quickening. My fingers found my bundle of nerves, bringing me closer to my orgasm. “Shawn, I’m gonna-“

At the sound of my voice, Shawn quickly pulled out, leaving me high and dry. I growled at the loss of contact, eyes flashing red momentarily at him. “I’ll take care of you,” Shawn let out quickly before I could get any angrier, “Ride me. Please”

The sound of his whimper made me smirk, making me instantly hop off the counter and taking his hand before dragging him to the bedroom. Pushing him onto the bed, back against the headboard, I made my way up and sat myself on his lap, lowering myself onto his cock. I gasped at his girth, one hand flying to his hair with a firm grip and the other scratching down his chest. Shawn moaned at the heavenly feeling of my claws dragging down his skin.

I began kissing on his neck, sucking harsher than I could control. But Shawn wasn’t complaining. He obviously loved the extra attention on him, which was evident in the way he was a total mess under my touch. There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach, an urge to sink his teeth into my neck. He sucked and nipped at my neck, leaving behind a hickey so deep that not even my werewolf healing abilities could fix. At the feeling of his harsh teeth breaking my delicate skin, I felt a feeling of white hot pain for a split second, before my body flooded with electricity. The pleasure was almost too much for me to bare. “Honey...,” He trailed off as he threw his head back. I understood the cue, rocking my hips harder as I felt my own orgasm coming on.

I felt myself tightening around him as he reached out to me, fingers rubbing my clit in tight circles. “Give me your cum, baby,” I whispered into his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. Shawn’s thrusts faltered, eyes wide as he took in what I just said. He couldn’t tell if it was what I really wanted or if it was just my heat talking, but he seemed to lose all self control as he locked eyes with me. “Fuck!” Shawn yelled, reaching his orgasm just as I reached mine, his hot load squirting in me.

We sat there post-high, chests heaving as we came down from our orgasms. “Did I...” Shawn asked, eyes hooded and barely open in his state of exhaust.

“Mark me?” I finished, reaching up to trail my fingers on the pink bite mark on my neck, “Guess so.”

He instantly grinned, smile taking up his whole face ad he pulled me into his chest and engulfing me into a hug. I giggled at his goofiness, noticing how our heart beats were completely in sync. “You’re mine now,” he whispered as he peppered kisses on the little scar where my neck met my shoulder.

“I’ve always been yours, babe.”

[unfolded73]

My Heartbeat Shows the Fear (2/4) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: A canon divergent story: Patrick gets into a car accident and it brings the Brewers to town sooner.

Notes: This fic will be posted in 4 chapters, every other day. There is some description of injuries, but nothing too graphic or life-threatening.

The title is from “Overkill” by Colin Hay, which thanks to the show Scrubs puts me in mind of hospitals.

Thank you to Amanita_Fierce for putting so much time and thought into betaing this fic - you made it so, so much better. And thanks also to @high-seas-swan for some helpful suggestions, particularly on that one scene that I tore apart and rewrote.

Rated Teen, this chapter 5714 words. (ao3)

Chapter 1

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

Chapter 2

Patrick first became aware of a constant, irritating beeping noise. He blinked his eyes open, his eyelashes crusty with sleep. Oh right, he thought as he took in his surroundings. He was in the hospital. It seemed like no time at all had passed since they told him that he was supposed to go into surgery for his arm. Was the surgery already over?

He looked down and saw his arm enclosed in bandages and a splint. Guess that's a yes to the surgery, he thought. The pain he remembered when he’d regained consciousness after the accident was gone, fortunately, numbed by what he assumed were some powerful drugs. He would have almost preferred some pain to this complete numbness.

Patrick had thought of himself as pretty unflappable when it came to getting injured — as a teen he’d suffered cuts that needed stitches more than once, and the sight of his own blood hadn’t really phased him. Once he’d suffered a ligament tear and knee dislocation playing hockey, and the sight of his leg bending the wrong way had been pretty grisly, but he’d still managed to joke around with his coach while he was being carried off the ice on a stretcher. None of that compared to the sight of his own broken bone protruding through the skin of his arm. That had triggered a visceral reaction, a deep, inborn knowledge from his hindbrain that screamed: this is very wrong! The paramedic in the ambulance had covered it with a bandage to keep any more dirt from getting into the wound, mercifully shielding it from Patrick’s eyes. The pain had been intense, though. ”He’s in shock,” he remembered the paramedic saying as he swam in a viscous soup of cold sweat and nausea and agony.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to his right side and saw David sleeping on the pull-out sleeper chair in the corner of the room. He was still in his clothes, but he’d taken his shoes off and lined them up neatly next to the chair. The sight of David’s shoes brought a swell of emotion to Patrick’s chest.

“David,” he said. His voice was raspy, and he was suddenly aware of how thirsty he was. “David,” he repeated, louder.

David started up, lines on his cheek from the pillow under his face and his hair sticking up on one side. It made Patrick want to hug him.

“You okay? Need me to call a nurse?” David asked.

“No. Is there water?”

David nodded, standing up and grabbing a cup with a bendy straw off of a small rolling table. He brought it over, carefully directing the straw so that Patrick could take it in his mouth and suck down some of the water. It made him feel uniquely helpless, being tended to like this.

“How long have you been here? What time is it?” Patrick asked.

David glanced at the clock. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.” He pulled his sleeper chair closer and sat on it, taking Patrick’s right hand in his.

Patrick frowned. “How long was the surgery?”

“A couple of hours. Do you not remember when they brought you out of recovery?” David asked, the first hint of a smile that Patrick had seen flitting over his face.

“No. The last thing I remember was them prepping me for surgery,” Patrick said.

Now David almost laughed. “In your defense, you were very high when you first came out of anesthesia.”

“What did I say?”

“Well, you swore a lot, which was very out of character. And you said I was handsome several times.”

“You are handsome,” Patrick said with a smile.

“And now all of your nurses know it.” David squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember that.” It sounded embarrassing, but he still would have liked to see a video of it — of himself high as a kite and gushing about his sexy boyfriend to anyone within earshot. He squeezed David’s hand back.

“Mm, don’t be. You threw up and you kept saying your ears were ringing and I might’ve gotten a bit… testy… with one of the nurses when she said it wasn’t anything to worry about.”

“My hero,” Patrick sighed fondly.

“How are you feeling now?”

Patrick tried to assess how he was feeling. He had flashes of more memories — agonizing pain when he was in the ambulance and when they put in him the CT machine, but now there was little more than a dull ache. “Not bad, actually.”

“Yeah, you’re on the really good drugs,” David said, pointing up to an IV bag. “Morphine, I’m pretty sure. Also some antibiotics, but it’s the morphine that’s relevant here.”

“That explains it.” Patrick lifted his uninjured arm and tried to smooth down David’s unruly hair. “Thanks for staying here with me.”

“They would have had to drag me out of here,” David said, his voice cracking with emotion. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault; it was the other driver’s fault.” David reached up and stroked a hand over Patrick’s forehead and cheek. “Do you remember the accident?”

Frowning, Patrick tried to probe his memories, and while he did so the automated blood pressure cuff around his arm filled up, squeezing his bicep almost to the point of pain before exhaling in a long hiss. “Not the impact. I remember flashes of being extracted from my car and put in an ambulance. Some stuff from when they first brought me in here.” He looked down at his arm. “I remember my arm looking really not good.”

David winced. “Yeah. Well, look at it this way: you’ll probably have a very manly scar when all this is over.”

“The car,” Patrick said. “I had all the products from the Mennonite farms in the car.” He knew insurance would cover the losses, but he still felt a stab of guilt that he’d caused some of their precious merchandise to be lost. It would take time to replace, time during which they couldn’t earn any money from the sales. He wanted to kick himself for not watching more closely at that intersection. He’d seen someone run that stoplight before. He should have been more careful.

Shaking his head, David said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“David—”

“Let me worry about it,” David said.

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

‘Not a chance. Besides, Alexis drove me here and I sent her home a while ago, so you’re stuck with me until she comes back in the morning.” He lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. David’s eyes were suspiciously wet. “Also I may never let you out of my sight again.”

“I love you,” Patrick said.

“I love you more,” David replied, “as evidenced by me sleeping on this thing.” He pointed at the sleeper chair. “It makes me long for my bed at the motel.”

Patrick felt an itch between his shoulder blades, and shifted his body in an attempt to scratch it. A spike of pain shot through his side. Broken ribs, he remembered. Right. “Ow.” He chuckled uneasily. “This is going to put a real damper on our sex life.”

David leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you try to get some more sleep? Your parents are going to be here in the morning.”

“My… what?”

His face cracking into a yawn, David answered, “I called your parents while you were in surgery. It seemed serious enough that they needed to know.”

Patrick’s heart began to race, which unfortunately he could hear echoed in beeps from the machines behind him. David noticed too, his eyes flicking up briefly to the monitors before looking back at Patrick’s face. Mind racing, Patrick tried to sit up, and another lightning bolt of pain kept him from executing that maneuver. “What did… what did you say?”

“That you’d been in a car accident and your arm was being operated on.” David’s face betrayed his confusion. “Patrick, I know you’re not super close with your parents but they needed to know that you’d been hospitalized.”

“Yeah, I know, but… David.” This was the worst case scenario, the thing that he’d hoped to avoid David ever knowing. If he could have just gotten up the courage to tell his parents the half dozen times he’d almost managed it, then David would never have had to know that he wasn’t out to them. That he was keeping his relationship with David a secret.

Well, there was no hiding it now. Patrick looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, steeling himself, before meeting David's concerned gaze. “I have to tell you something.”

David frowned. “What is it?”

“I’ve… I haven’t told my parents about the fact that we’re… together. I’m not out to them.”

“Oh.”

Patrick winced at the hurt on David’s face. “I wanted to tell them, I did, but then I didn’t go home for Christmas, and it’s just hard to… I don’t know how to say it, over the phone. I can’t get the words out.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “David, I’m sorry—”

“Mm mm, no. Don’t apologize.” David squeezed his hand and then kissed his fingers again, his facial expression difficult to read. The hurt wasn’t in evidence anymore, but perhaps because David was doing a better job of hiding it. “Coming out is very personal, and it’s something you should only do on your terms. Okay?” His mouth slanted to the side. “That’s why I brought this couple home from college one time and just told my parents to deal with it.”

Patrick chuckled in relief at the way David was trying to lighten the mood, but just as quickly his guilt rushed back to the surface. “I’m not ashamed of you, David. I promise I’m not.”

David’s lips quirked up. “Yes, that was obvious from the way you talked to the nurses about me when you were high.” He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “When your parents get here, I can just be… your business partner.”

His gut instinct was to say no. That wasn’t fair to David, or to what they meant to each other. But then he imagined it, lying here in a hospital bed, in pain and a little bit high on opiates, his arm in a splint, looking up at his parents towering over him and telling them he was gay. That he and David were boyfriends. It was an agonizing mental picture.

“Maybe… maybe just for tomorrow?” Patrick asked in a small voice. He sounded pathetic to his own ears. He looked up at the IV bag. “For one thing, I’d prefer to be sober when I do the whole coming out speech.” It was an attempt at a joke, but it wasn’t untrue. He didn’t feel like he was in any kind of mental shape to talk to his parents about his sexual orientation or his relationship with David right now.

Patrick couldn’t help but notice that David had pulled away from him a little bit, but he still had an encouraging smile plastered on his face. “That makes total sense. Don’t worry about that for right now. Just focus on healing, okay?”

Patrick reached out, putting his hand around David’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against David’s lips. “So much.”

David gave his shoulder a little pat when he pulled away. “Let’s try to get some more sleep, okay?”

“Yeah.” Patrick felt exhausted from just the half hour he’d been awake. “Okay.”

He watched as David resettled himself on the sleeper chair, twisting and turning before finally settling down and facing the wall. When Patrick finally fell asleep, his last vision was of David’s back, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

~*~

When the Lincoln pulled up in front of the hospital, David was outside waiting for it. He’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, noticing every time Patrick shifted in his fitful sleep, and then was woken for good at six in the morning when a new nurse came on shift and stopped in to check Patrick’s vitals and replace his IV bag. Patrick, meanwhile, was in more pain than when he’d awoken the first time, and he was in a mood to match. Alexis finally called to say she was ten minutes away, so David kissed Patrick’s cheek and told him he’d be back later and escaped.

He felt grimy, still in yesterday’s clothes, aware of his own body odor in a way that he absolutely despised. He walked over quickly to the car, wrenching the door open and collapsing into the seat.

“How’s Patrick?”

“Awake and coherent and cranky,” David said. “I told the nurse he needed to up his morphine, but they don’t listen to me.” He tilted his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

“You’re so sweet to stay by his bedside all night, David.”

He whipped his head around, looking for a sign that his sister was making fun of him, but her face was impassive as she concentrated on driving.

“Well, I couldn’t just let him wake up alone in the hospital. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, it happened to me in Singapore,” she said. “Also in Portugal, I think it was? Anyway. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“His arm is being held together with bandages and pieces of plastic and he’s in a lot of pain, but sure. He’s right as rain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left then,” Alexis said.

David gestured emphatically down at his clothes. “If I can’t get out of these clothes and into a shower soon, then I might literally have a panic attack.” He turned and looked out the window at the passing fields. “Besides, his parents will be here in about an hour, his mom said.”

“Meeting the parents, David!” Alexis said, and he turned in time to see her execute an exaggerated series of blinks that seemed dangerous to do behind the wheel of a car. “I guess you do want to be freshly showered for that.”

He huffed. “I have to open the store this morning. I’ll meet them later.”

“David, no,” Alexis gasped, “you should go back to the hospital. Stevie and I can cover the store for a few hours. I talked to her about it when I got back last night.”

“I can go back tonight after work. His parents will be there with him,” David said, his stomach in knots, exhaustion weighing heavy on his limbs.

“Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, David.”

Sighing, David rocked his head back to knock against the headrest several times. “Patrick’s not out to his parents. They don’t know we’re together.”

Alexis bared her teeth like that Chrissy Teigen meme. “Oh, David. Yikes.”

“I know. So being at the hospital means that I have to pretend to just be his business partner, and I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude to do that right now when he almost died yesterday.” He turned and stared out the window again. “Can we not talk about it anymore?”

Alexis didn’t say anything, but she reached over and patted his shoulder in what he guessed was supposed to be sympathy. They drove the rest of the way back to Schitt’s Creek in silence.

By the time David was showered and dressed and had his hair in order, he felt almost human, and he was resigned to not seeing Patrick again until the evening. He stepped out into his and Alexis’s room only to see Alexis and Stevie standing there between the beds. They turned to him and folded their arms, determined looks on their faces.

He pulled up short, indignant. “What?”

“We’re going to look after the store for you,” Stevie said flatly. “You are going back to the hospital.”

“Patrick needs you, David,” Alexis said.

“Patrick doesn’t need me lurking around, making his parents wonder why his business partner is being so emotional,” David said, turning to the mirror and probing gently at the skin under his eyes. His lack of sleep was painfully obvious on his face.

“I’m sure he’ll tell his parents once he’s gotten his bearings. But in the meantime, he needs to know you’re standing by him,” Stevie said.

“That is a lot of sincere emotion coming out of your mouth, Stevie. Did you hit your head?”

“Fuck off,” Stevie said.

“You could also go by Patrick’s apartment and pick up some of his stuff,” Alexis said. “If he’s going to be stuck in the hospital, he’s going to need some comfy pajamas, and some changes of underwear. And a book or something.”

Okay, even David had to admit that was a good idea. He blew out a breath and crossed his arms, mirroring Stevie. “Are you sure you can handle the store?”

“Ugh, David, we’ve done it before,” Alexis said, stomping her foot. “Now go!” she said, shooing him out the door.

“Wait, I need you to do something else for me,” he said. “Can you contact the police and find out where his car was taken? I need to see if any of the things in it are salvageable.”

Stevie nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

He made a quick stop at the apartment and packed a duffel bag for Patrick: pajamas, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, underwear, a book from Patrick’s nightstand, and his toiletries from the bathroom. He packed Patrick’s phone charger, although he wasn’t sure if his phone had survived the crash. He started to put in Patrick’s favorite hoodie, but then he remembered that Patrick might not be able to get anything long-sleeved over his arm. Instead he grabbed the afghan from the back of the sofa, figuring that would have to do if Patrick was chilly in his hospital room.

The nurse at the front desk of Patrick’s floor recognized him, waving him through. It occurred to him that after yesterday, one of the nurses could inadvertently out Patrick to his parents.

David’s first impression of Patrick’s parents was of blue sweaters. I guess that’s where Patrick gets it, David thought as he hesitated in the doorway to Patrick’s room. The Brewers were standing by his bedside, his mother touching the top of his head affectionately. It was a perfect family tableau that he was loath to interrupt, but he couldn’t exactly linger in the hall all morning.

“Hey,” he said, stepping hesitantly into the room. “I’m David Rose,” he said by way of introducing himself. His eyes drank Patrick in, cataloging again the small cuts on his face. His instincts told him to go over to Patrick, to touch him, but he couldn’t do that now. Instead he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed like an alien who didn’t know how to exist in the presence of humans.

“David! I’m Clint Brewer,” Patrick’s father said, holding a hand out for David to shake. David shifted his bag over to the other arm and suffered the overly firm handshake Clint gave him.

“And I’m Marcy. David, thank you for calling us last night.”

“Of course.” He turned to Patrick. “I went by your apartment and packed some…” He panicked. Was knowing where Patrick kept his things a tell? I mean, it wasn’t a big apartment; he probably could have figured it out even if he wasn’t over there all the time. “Some stuff for you.”

Patrick gave him a fond look. “Thanks.”

David fixated on the least intimate thing in the bag. “I grabbed your phone charger, but then I wasn’t sure if you even have your phone.”

“Yeah, I have no idea where it is. Still in the car, probably, and who knows where that is.”

“Stevie is looking into it,” David said.

“Thank goodness Patrick has you, David,” Marcy said, holding her hands out for the bag, so David surrendered it to her.

David met Patrick’s eyes, and then quickly looked away. “I’m just trying to be a nice person, Mrs. Brewer.”

Patrick snorted, suppressing a laugh.

A doctor David hadn’t seen before breezed into the room and picked up Patrick’s chart. “How are we feeling today, Mr. Brewer?” he said as his eyes scanned over the chart.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Patrick muttered.

The doctor moved over toward Patrick’s injured side, forcing David to step out of the way. He watched with morbid fascination, unable to avert his eyes, as the doctor examined Patrick’s arm, then his side where presumably his broken ribs were. David caught a glimpse of terribly bruised skin under Patrick’s hospital gown, and he flinched. Pain was evident on Patrick’s face.

“No sign of infection; that’s what we are concerned with most with this kind of injury, so that’s a great sign,” the doctor said. He then checked Patrick’s pupils and asked him a few questions, making some notes before clicking his pen and putting it away. “Did they explain the surgery to you yesterday, Mr. Brewer?”

Patrick nodded. “Sure. That it had to be done quickly to prevent infection.”

“Right. We did what’s called an open reduction and internal fixation in this case. Metal rods were inserted which will allow your bone to fully heal.”

“Metal rods?” David asked, and then worried about how worried he sounded. Business partners shouldn’t sound so worried, he thought.

“How about that, you’ll get to set off the machine every time you fly,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s routine,” the surgeon said, putting Patrick’s chart back on its hook. “If you continue to show no sign of infection tomorrow and the wound is healing well, we’ll go ahead and put a cast on it so that you’ll be able to move more freely.”

“Am I going to regain full use of my arm? I play baseball and—”

“And guitar,” David interjected, his stomach queasy at the idea that Patrick might never be able to play again.

The surgeon smiled. “Well, you’ll definitely be on the disabled list for the rest of the season, but there’s no reason that with a little bit of rehab you won’t be able to do everything you’re used to doing after a few months.” He gave Patrick a corny thumbs-up gesture. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “How much longer before I can go home?”

“Well, that’s for the attending physician to decide, but I’d say tomorrow is a distinct possibility.”

“Thank you so much,” Marcy said as the surgeon gave them a wave and rushed out of the room as quickly as he’d rushed in.

David wasn’t sure what to do. There was no reason for him to stay now that he’d delivered Patrick’s belongings, and if he did stay, Patrick’s parents would probably wonder why.

“Is the store closed?” Patrick asked him. He had dark circles under bloodshot eyes, David noticed. He could probably use some more sleep.

“No, Alexis and Stevie are there,” David said.

“That’s your sister, and…” Clint asked.

“And my best friend.”

“Well, it’s very nice of them to help out,” Marcy said.

“Yeah.” David fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “So I should go…”

“Do you have a hotel booked here in Elmdale?” Patrick asked his father.

“Not yet; we came straight here. I guess we need to find a place before we collapse,” Clint replied.

“Actually, I had an idea,” Marcy said, “if you don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“What?” Patrick asked.

“One thing you’re going to need when you get out of the hospital is food that’s easy to heat up. I was thinking we could stay at your apartment and I could use the kitchen to make you some meals and fill up your freezer before you get home.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do that—”

“Patrick, I want to. There isn’t a lot we can do to help, but I can at least do that.”

Patrick looked at David, and all David could do was shrug. It sounded like a good idea, actually, but he could also think of a few reasons why Patrick wouldn’t necessarily want his parents spending time unsupervised in his apartment.

“I can take them to your place, and… straighten things up.” David said, looking at Patrick pointedly to make sure he understood his meaning.

“Oh, we don’t care how messy it is,” Marcy said. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Patrick said.

“It’s no trouble,” David added. “It’s on my way back to work. You can follow me in your car.”

“Thanks, David,” Clint said, clapping him on the back.

“Is there anything else we can do for you this morning, sweetheart?” Marcy was still at Patrick’s side, stroking his hair. David felt a stab of jealousy that he couldn’t stroke Patrick’s hair right now. Or kiss him.

“No, I’m good. I’m just going to get some more sleep, I think,” Patrick said.

“I… um… brought the afghan from your apartment.” David gestured toward the duffel. He wanted to spread it over Patrick’s legs, to tuck him in securely, but instead he stood to the side and watched Patrick’s mother doing it. Then he had to settle for a little wave as the three of them left Patrick’s hospital room.

“I’m just going to run to the restroom before we go,” David said, already pulling out his phone before he’d cleared the door to the men’s room.

911, he texted to Stevie. Need you to go to Patrick’s apartment and remove any evidence of our relationship IMMEDIATELY. There’s a spare key in the top drawer of the desk in the back of the store.

Stevie: why?

David: I’m bringing the Brewers over there. We’ll be there in 40 minutes.

Stevie: check. what should i be on the lookout for?

David: Photos, mainly. And there’s a shelf with some of my clothes on it.

He groaned to himself and then added, Make sure we didn’t leave lube out anywhere. Like the bedside table or on the floor next to the bed.

Stevie: gross. if I have to pick up a used condom, you’re going to pay.

David: What kind of animal do you think I am??? Although maybe also empty the trash. Thanks, I owe you.

She didn’t respond to that, but he’d have to assume she’d get the job done.

Stevie dispatched on her errand of subterfuge, he returned to find the Brewers in the lobby. “I’ll be driving an enormous black boat of a car; you can’t miss it,” David said to them as they walked out into the sunshine.

Once they were on the road, David’s attention bounced from the road to his speedometer to his rearview, making sure the Brewers were still behind him. By the time they got to Patrick’s apartment building, he was a tight ball of tension.

He had a text from Stevie waiting for him when he picked his phone up and looked at it. mission accomplished. who needs that many kinds of lube? im mentally scarred and also very curious.

“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Marcy said, looking around.

David thought about the recycling bin he’d seen a couple of times outside the building that was full to overflowing with liquor bottles, and about the couple downstairs who had screaming fights on Saturday nights, but didn’t think either of those were anecdotes he should tell, particularly because they would indicate how much time David had spent in Patrick’s apartment already. Instead he just agreed noncommittally as he led them up the stairs.

It was only as he stuck his key in the lock that he realized that having Patrick’s spare key was one thing, but having it on his key ring with his keys to the store and his room key at the motel was quite another. He winced as he opened the door, hoping they hadn’t noticed.

“So this is Patrick’s place,” he said unnecessarily, his eyes straying to the mantel and then to the desk. Stevie had done her job — the photos of him were gone. His eyes raked over the shelving next to the bed and zeroed in on the shelf where he’d had a couple of sweaters and a pair of jeans. It was empty.

“It’s not very big, is it?” Clint laughed. “But Patrick never has been someone who kept a lot of things.”

David wanted to agree vehemently — the only reason the apartment didn’t look much more spartan was David’s influence — but he bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “So here’s the key,” he said, unclipping it from his keyring and handing it over. So much for not drawing attention to his key ring, he thought. “There’s a grocery store, Brebner’s, that’s not far away. And you can get fresh produce at our store,” he added, which made Marcy’s eyes light up. “I should change the sheets for you,” he said, turning to the bed.

“We can do that, David. You don’t have to trouble yourself.”

“Nope! It’s no trouble,” he said, and he knew he sounded manic, but there was no way on God’s green Earth he was going to let Patrick’s mother touch the sheets that were currently on Patrick’s bed. “I help my friend Stevie change sheets at the motel sometimes,” he said as he quickly stripped the bed. “I’m very good at it.”

“Oh, Patrick mentioned the open mic nights,” Clint said, pointing at the framed poster on the wall. “Did you know he used to play at an open mic night in high school?”

David finished stuffing the dirty sheets into the hamper and grabbed a clean set from the shelf. “Mm hmm, he mentioned that.”

“I’m glad he’s picked it back up. I think he’d stopped playing guitar for a while before things ended with—” Marcy stopped herself, like it just occurred to her that she maybe shouldn’t be gossiping about her son’s past love life with his business partner.

“Rachel?” David supplied as he stretched the fitted sheet out over the mattress. Marcy came over and grabbed the other side, looking relieved.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about that,” she said, putting her corners of the sheet on as David did the same on the other side.

He nodded, remembering the worst week of the last year (until this one). “I do.” Then felt like he needed to explain knowing it. “All those hours of working together, you end up telling each other things.” Although not, apparently, that he isn’t out to his parents, David’s brain supplied.

“Thanks for all your help today, David,” Clint said. “We really do appreciate it.”

David stifled a wince and nodded, trying to approximate a smile.

~*~

“Marcy, you don’t have to start cooking right this minute,” Clint said once they had the groceries unpacked. “You’ve barely slept in the last 36 hours.”

“I want to at least get a lasagna put together,” she said, organizing the ingredients for her meat sauce on the counter and then opening cabinets, looking for an appropriate saute pan.

“Well,” Clint said with a sigh, “give me the garlic and onion and I’ll prep them for you.”

Marcy fiddled with the knobs on Patrick’s stove until she had the correct burner heating up. “His store certainly was beautiful,” she said, thinking back to their brief visit that afternoon. “I never imagined that Patrick could put something like that together.”

“Well, he did tell us that he mainly handled the financial side of things, so I suppose the look of the place is down to David.”

“I guess that’s true.” She unwrapped the package of ground beef, worrying her lip between her teeth.

“He’s going to be okay, honey,” Clint said. “Don’t worry.”

She laughed. “Don’t tell a mother not to worry, Clint Brewer.”

She put the ground beef into the hot pan and began breaking it up with a spatula.

“I’ll tell you another thing,” Clint said. “I think David might have a crush on our son.”

Marcy frowned at him. “You know, it’s not okay to assume someone is gay just because they’re… you know. Effeminate.”

“It’s not that.” Off his wife’s skeptical look, he conceded, “Okay, it’s not just that. It’s the way he looks at Patrick. You didn’t see the way David looked at our son?”

Marcy blinked, trying to remember. She’d been so focused on Patrick, she’d barely looked at David while they were in the hospital room with him. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Well, I think there are some unrequited feelings there,” Clint said.

She mulled that over while she continued to put her meat sauce together. It wouldn’t be good for their business relationship if what Clint said was true. She wondered if Patrick knew, and if so if it made their relationship awkward. David seemed like a respectful person; surely he wouldn’t do anything to make Patrick uncomfortable at work.

Marcy was still worrying about it when she was brushing her teeth in the bathroom that night, beyond exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. She wasn’t sure what impulse made her reach out and open Patrick’s medicine cabinet.

“Hasn’t Patrick been saying he wasn’t seeing anyone?” she asked Clint as she got into bed next to him.

He was already half-asleep. “Yeah.”

“Well, he’s got a mostly empty box of condoms in his medicine cabinet,” she said.

“Marcy, you shouldn’t snoop.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You didn’t mean to open his medicine cabinet?” he yawned.

“It’s a big box.”

“Marcy.”

“Okay, sorry.” She curled up on her side.

“Maybe he hasn’t had any relationships serious enough to tell us about,” Clint reasoned.

She didn’t want to have to think about her son that way, having casual, meaningless sex instead of a real relationship. That wasn’t what she wanted for him. It was why she’d encouraged him to patch things up with Rachel in the past. And while she now believed Patrick when he said things were really over between them, she still hoped he would find someone else who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. All night as she slept, her hopes and worries for her son monopolized her dreams.

Chapter 3

[thewritingstar]

Gift Swap!!

So for the @kuroshironekoserver gift exchange, I got the lovely @diabl0o

now you asked for BakuDeku which ive never written before so i apologize in advanced but this was kinda fun to write their dynamic so i hope you enjoy this and if you dont i am sorry for the trash you are about to read. Anyways here ya go :) 

Pairing: BakuDeku

Word count: 2.5k

---

The bell gave off its routine ringing and all students from every class made their way to the cafeteria for lunch. Chatter and laughter filled the hallways and Class 1-A was no exception. They had all finished up their English session with Present Mic and were packing up their bags and filing out the doors.

Deku fiddled with his notebook before huffing and pushing open the door, too many thoughts were running in his mind as the day had gone by. He was one to over think everything but this was on a whole new level.

“Deku!” Uraraka called and he turned around to find her wrapping her arm around his and started walking with him. “Are you nervous?” She asked, which in both of their defenses was an understatement and lackluster question in general.

“Yeah, I just hope it goes well.” His palms began to sweat as he wiped them on his pants and they took a seat at their usual table with Todoroki, Iida and Tsyu.

“I'm sure it will be amazing! Don’t worry!” Her usual bright smile should have made him feel better but it didn’t, not in the slightest.

“What's gonna go amazing?” Tsyu asked and all eyes were on the sweating green bean of a boy.

“Today you’re asking Bakugou out and hoping that he doesn’t reject you and ruin your life right?” The bluntness of Todorkoi was scolded by Uraraka and Tsyu quickly.

“You think he will ruin my life?” Deku pushed his face into the table and they all tried to cheer him up.

“No, no, of course not.” Uraraka shot a glare at the duo haired boy who shrugged and tried to reason.

“Nothing bad is going to happen.” Todoroki said to redeem himself.

“We are all here to support you no matter what!” Iida chimed in.

Deku was thankful to have such great friends and turned his head and found the blond at his own table yelling at Kirishima for something minor.

“He’s just so dreamy.” Deku panicked as he watched the blonds fists exploded as they connected with the table.

“Yeah he sure is.” Tsyu said with a short tone and Uraraka let out a giggle.

They all finished their lunch and helped him prepare his speech.

“Go get him tiger!” Uraraka cheered as the bell rang and they all headed to their next class which coincidentally had Bakugou and Deku working in a pair.

Deku let out a small wave as they parted to their respectful locker rooms. Inside his stomach began to twist knowing that in a few minutes, his confession would be made known.

In the locker room, all the boys were putting on their hero costumes and messing around. In the corner Deku went over his lines one more time but knew that a long speech probably wouldn’t go as planned. The bell rang and the boys walked to the center of the field, Deku never taking his eyes off of the guy who had his heart.

“For today's exercise we are going to do pair fighting. You and your partner will dispatch into the makeshift city or forest and anything you find a team, you battle them. Remember to try and keep them quick and simple, work on kill shots and heavy hitting moves. The team to take out the most pairs or has the best moves will get extra credit on their next exam. When the whistle blows make your way out and find a place, then when the bell chimes, your free to go.” Mr Aizawa spoke as he took a spot on the bench and stat down. The whistle came to his lips and her blew.

“To the fucking forest Deku.” Bakugou said. He was thankful that Bakugou referred to him mostly as Deku and nothing else. After three years and their last year at U.A, their relationship chemistry had softened and rivals wasn’t really what they were any more. More like acquaintances but Deku dreamed they would become more towards the end of graduation.  

“Yeah okay.” Deku responded and followed the blond. He kept his eye on his back as they walked for a few minutes, his mind escaping to all the outcomes of his confession.

“If we go out here, there's gonna be less chance for an ambush. We can make our way behind the buildings and to the city, plus the pond is where Frog legs and Half n Half are probably at.” Bakugou rambled but Deku couldn't be more unfocused.

Soon he collided with a hard surface which happens to be Bakugou's back.

“Are you paying attention Deku?” Bakugou spat, his red eyes beaming into the green of Dekus.

“Oh yeah forest, pond, city. Got it.” He repeated.

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows but left it alone as the bell sounded.

“Lets go!” Bakugou yelled and they both took off running towards the pond.

As pace picked up Deku tried to find the perfect moment to tell him. He needed it to be just the two of them or else he might regret doing it in front of their classmates, he knew the gossip would be a landmine for the class, especially Mina.

The pair approached the edge of the pond and hide behind the rocks of the small waterfall. In the distance was Tsyu and Todoroki. They definitely had the advantage with the water and Deku then questioned why Bakugou would even want to put themselves in this position.

“Fuck that icyhot bastard.”

“Spite.” Deku whispered with realization. The only way to beat them is to catch them off guard.

However their plans were disrupted as a battle broke out between Todoroki, Tsyu, Hagakure and Sero.

Perfect. This was good enough for Deku. As the other teams dueled it out, it was time for the big reveal.

“Hey Bakugou.” He said quietly and the blond turned to him with his usual scowl.

“What?” He spat but it wasn’t harsh.

“I was wondering if you wanted to maybe study or get coffee sometime?” His breathing hitched as Bakugou raised a brow.

“Didn’t we fucking get shit yesterday?”

Deku’s eyes widened and he shook his hands before scuffling out a laugh.

“Well yeah but that was with all our friends...I was thinking just the two of us.” He continued. “Like a date.”

In that moment Bakugou's eyes enlarged and his lips tightened into a thin line. He looked like he was processing the request over and over again.

Deku waited for a response but then heard a crash in the water. The pair snapped their heads at the four of them and saw that Sero had been thrown by Froppy.

“Now!” Bakugou yelled as he ignored the question at hand and jumped onto the scene.

Deku followed in suit and caught the four on the surprise attack. Quickly they manage to take them down and head to the city. The question still loomed overhead and he felt a little bad that he corrupted his thoughts when they were in training.

More fights around the city came about and Bakugou blew up a car when Momo and Denki were announced the winners.

“Wow congrats you two!” Uraraka beamed and the rest of them filed in to complement the pair.

“Yeah dude you really need the boost.” Kirishima laughed and then received a punch from Denki.

Deku smiled at his friends but turned to see Bakugou stomping towards the locker room. He quickly left the group and caught up with him.

“Bakugou?” He asked hesitantly but he made no motion to stop.

“Not now.” He ended the conversation by walking in and only appearing for dinner but even then Deku didn’t have a chance to say anything more.

“So he said no?” Uraraka asked as she sat on Dekus bed.

Spinning in his swivel chair, Deku sighed. “Well he didn’t say no exactly but the mood definitely wasn’t pleasant. I just hope I didn’t ruin anything between us.

She was unsure of how to comfort him because Bakugou wasn’t the type to open up easily. “I can ask Kirishima-”

“No its fine, lets just leave it alone.”

Uraraka nodded before turning on an action movie starring All Might. She could tell he was putting on a brave face but teenage heartbreak was on the list of worst feelings in the world.

--- Two days had passed by since his confession or date invitation. Bakugou hadn’t responded to Deku and even Kirishima wasn’t told about what had happened. This was pure torture for Deku. He spends his days in class staring at the back of the blondes head, waiting for him to turn around and answer him, but it was no use.

And he had enough. After class had ended for the day, Deku caught Bakugou walking towards the locker room. Making sure that no one else was around, he locked the door trapping them both in.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bakugou snapped as the door shut.

“I want my answer, it's been two days.” Deku said boldly but not leaving his space. The angered expression didn’t leave Bakugou's face as he stood silently.

Deku let out a huff before hugging his arms around his body. He tried not to let any tears gather in his eyes. He couldn’t cry in front of his crush, especially not at a time like this.

“Look Bakugou, if you didn’t want to go on a date all you had to say was no. It's okay.” Deku shrugged but even his eyes couldn’t hide his heartbreak. “I would have understood.”

“It wasn’t a no.”

Deku blinked. Not sure if he heard him correctly, looked around the room then focused on Bakugou. “Then why-”

“Because I'm a broken person!” He yelled as his fists sparked at his sides. “And don’t give me any bullshit about how im not and im a great guy cause its not gonna fucking work.”

“Bakugou, I-”

An explosion sent out from his palms and hit one of the lockers. At that moment neither of them cared. Bakugou was a mess. His mind was racing it almost hurt to think, he felt like Denki in that moment.

“I don’t fucking get it Izuku. Why on earth would you even want to be with someone like me? I was an asshole to you. Why don’t you run to icy hot, round cheeks or anyone else who is worth a damn?” He sighed and plopped onto one of the benches.

Deku stood wondering what to do. A small smile formed on his face as a fond memory came to him.

“When I was a kid I had a music box.”

“What the fuck?”

“Just listen please.” He said and Bakugou shrugged and let him continue. “This music box was my favorite thing, also the only non All Might thing I owned. It was supposed to play a little melody and when you opened the top, a small ballerina danced around.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked watching the boy ramble on.

“When my mom gave me it, the music skipped and cracked in certain places. It didn’t even sound quite right and even the girl would only turn a few times before standing still. But even after my mom asked if I wanted her to fix it or buy me a new one, I refused. Its shaky music and still ballerina was perfect in my eyes, no matter how broken or damaged it was.”

He remained silent as Deku took a seat next to him.

“Katsuki, I know that you weren’t the greatest friend in the past and sure you weren’t the easiest to get along with, but no matter how harsh you could be to the world, I always saw the golden light you beamed with. Sometimes even the best things are broken, but that doesn’t mean they are any less beautiful.”

The confession took Bakugou by surprise. It wasn’t a simple “hey I like you.” or “ You’re hot so we should date.” Instead it was more of a “I like you, even with your flaws.” A warm fuzzy feeling went into his chest and he hated it but craved it more.

“Alright fine!” He said.

“So you’ll go on a date with me?” Deku asked, his voice rising several octaves due to his excitement.

“Yeah, yeah i’ll go on one with you. Your ass better not be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Deku replied before walking towards the door. He unlocked it and pushed on the handle before he was turned around and pressed against the door.

Soon his eyes met with crimson ones that were extremely close and he could feel their noses touching. His eyes closed as Bakugou leaned and pressed their lips together quick and fast.

“I like you too...Izuku.” Bakugou said as his eyes went to anywhere except for the blushing boy he just kissed.

“See you later Bakugou, have fun training.” Deku said as his heart pounded fast in his chest.

“Katsuki.” He heard as he pushed the door open.

As soon as the door shut, Deku raced to find Uraraka. He saw her walking with Todoroki and basically slammed her into the ground.

“HE SAID YES!” He cheered and then helped her up. His body was shaking from excitement and he was still on the high if the kiss.

“So you have a date?” She asked and he nodded quickly before racing off.

“Young love.” Todoroki said as they watched their friend run off to who knows where. --- A knock came from the other side of Dekus door. He called the person on the other side to just come in and the door opened to reveal a date ready Bakugou.

“You ready yet?” He asked and watched as Deku ran around trying to get all the last minute things together like his shoes and socks.

“Mm hmm. Oh crap! I forgot that Mina as my tie, I'll be right back!” He said but was already running out the door towards the girls dorms.

Bakugou didn’t have time to yell at him for running late so he just looked around his room. Of course everything was All Might themed and inside he was losing his mind at all the cool stuff. He turned to see something on his desk.

It was a small wooden box that had many scratches. On the back was a key to turn and since his curiosity got the best of him, he did. He then opened the top and realized that the small ballerina in front of him was the one he talked about during his confession. He was right when he said that she did not spin correctly and the song wasn’t as pleasant to listen too.

It mesmerized him. It was broken and damaged, yet he still liked it. He thought that maybe he wasn’t as bad as people said he was. Maybe he was that ballerina, always turning to the music but get stuck sometimes.

He set the box down as he heard footsteps coming closer. Deku appeared with his tie on and apologized for his lateness. Shrugging Bakugou passed him and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Thats alright, let go before a long fucking line shows.”

Izuku nodded and grabbed the handle of the door, he noticed that his music box was moved but didn’t say anything about it. He caught up with Katsuki and they held hands as they walked to the restaurant.

“Still beautiful.” Deku thought to himself.

----

sooo I hope you liked it. 

[twinkletoes-rp]

Naruto AU “Surface Breaker” Ch. 1 - Awakening

Fandom: Naruto Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, (Found) Family Rating: T (to be safe) Relationships: Naruto Uzumaki & Shikamaru Nara, Naruto Uzumaki & Sakura Haruno, Naruto Uzumaki & Konoha 11, Naruto Uzumaki & Everyone, Naruto Uzumaki & Sasuke Uchiha (mentioned) Characters: Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru Nara, Sakura Haruno, Konoha 11, Sasuke Uchiha (mentioned) Words: 4,456

Summary: AU/Canon Divergence post-Shippuden 215. When Naruto nearly dies at Sasuke’s hands for a second time, he makes the heartrending decision to finally heed his dead master’s advice and let the Uchiha go. Healing and moving on are never easy, but luckily, Naruto has a whole village (and even those outside it) to aid and love him along the way.

Canon Divergence start: Different from the actual episode, Naruto and Sasuke's fight goes on a lot longer and is way deadlier. It ends up a fight to the death. The only reason they both survive is because Tobi swoops in to steal Sasuke away, and Naruto passes out a second later. That's where the fic opens.

(Can also be read on FFN | AO3 | Next )

--

“Naruto!”

He remembers coughing up blood, a lot of it, and then…his eyelids were so heavy…

“I can’t… We have to…the village…”

He remembers hands on him. Warm and slick and…shaking…

“Stay awake, Naruto…”

He remembers intense pain shooting through him, coughing up more blood…

“Hold on!”

He remembers rushing paws, so many and so loud it became a roar…

“Just a little farther! You can…”

He remembers being set on something soft and cold, tasting more blood…

“Come on, Naruto… You’re…be Hokage…”

He remembers pounding feet and familiar voices barking orders…

“Don’t you dare… Stay with me, you stubborn…”

He remembers machines screeching and a well of grudgingly-protective rage surging through him…

Don’t give up, brat!

And then…nothing.

---

When Naruto wakes, it’s to sights, sounds, and sensations that are becoming more and more familiar over the years.

Machines beep into an otherwise silent, still room. Sterile floors and walls in dull colors that are supposed to relax and provide a sense of calm. Chemicals most might not be able to smell, the pinch of an IV, a few actually, in his arm. Slightly itchy white sheets and a starchy blue hospital gown that’s too big for his small frame. Bandages cover almost every part of him, and he thinks one of his arms might be in a sling – or at least, bound to his side temporarily. Some seriously strong pain meds must be in his system because, at least for the moment, he doesn’t feel even a fraction of the pain he’s sure he should be in. Sakura or Granny Tsunade, maybe both, must have ordered that for him. He’s grateful.

Giving his body a few minutes to adjust to being awake after…who knows how long, he turns his head slowly to look around. He almost regrets it when his vision swims, but something else he notices almost immediately takes precedence.

Body heat at his elbow. There’s…someone else here…?

For a split second, his heart rate spikes, but it calms just as quickly. His vision might not be clear yet, but he can tell from the steady heartbeat and gentle breathing that whoever it is isn’t here to hurt him. Besides, if the splotches of color he can make out are right, he thinks he knows who it is anyway, and in that case, he’s definitely not worried.

When he can finally see, Naruto can’t help but smile, what little he can manage anyway. He was right. It’s Shikamaru, fast asleep at his side with his face in his arms. Naruto breathes a laugh. It’s the same way he used to sleep in class at the Academy when they were kids. If he’s asleep, though, Naruto wonders how long he’s been here. He hopes not all night. Besides getting him in trouble with the nurses or, worse, Sakura and Granny Tsunade, leaning over on the mattress like that must be really uncomfortable.

All the same, he can’t help but soften. He never thought he’d wake up to find Shikamaru Nara, of all people, at his bedside, but he’s certainly not complaining. On the contrary…he’s happy and touched. Shikamaru’s a great friend, one he’s lucky to have, and he knows better than most that the genius doesn’t put his energy into anything he doesn’t believe in. So for him to be here…

Lifting his good arm experimentally, he finds it doesn’t hurt too much to use. Satisfied, he reaches over to rest a bandaged hand on Shikamaru’s shoulder and shake him gently. “Hey, Shikamaru,” he whispers, not wanting to scare his friend. “Wake up.”

Shikamaru instantly shifts and opens bleary eyes. Blinking a few times, he pushes himself back some and stretches, yawning so long that it leaves tears at the corners of his eyes. Wiping at them with his sleeves, he looks his way and freezes, blinking a few more times and even rubbing his eyes for good measure. “N-Naruto?” When he sees his friend really is up, he perks up instantly, face breaking into a wide smile, maybe his brightest Naruto’s ever seen. “Hey, you’re finally awake!”

His smile is contagious. Naruto’s isn’t nearly as big and bright as it normally is, but Shikamaru wasn’t expecting it to be. Not yet, anyway. “Y-yeah, I guess I—I am!” Naruto cringes and coughs at how raw and croaky his voice sounds from disuse, his throat dry as the Demon Desert. Shikamaru helps him sit up enough to drink some water, and Naruto sighs happily once he’s done. There’s more life to the smile he gives this time. “Thanks, Shikamaru! It’s good to see you, too!”

Shikamaru’s exhale is helplessly fond, the other’s voice and smile the last pieces he needed to know he really is okay – or, you know, going to be. He hangs his head with a heavy sigh, all the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his relief takes all his energy at once. “Thank goodness…”

Naruto, meanwhile, is silent, studying Shikamaru’s face. Now that it’s not hidden in his arms, his friend looks paler and definitely more tired than usual. There are some pretty dark shadows under his eyes, too. The blond’s brow furrows in concern.

“Shikamaru…are you okay? You don’t look so good…”

Shikamaru looks up, startled, and then he laughs, the action helping to further relax him. He can’t help it. He swears Naruto is the most selfless person he’s ever met in his life. “You’re one to talk. You’re practically a walking bandage roll.” Naruto doesn’t let up on his worried stare, though, not swayed by the joke and possible deflection, and Shikamaru sighs a bit, smile sobering along with him. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, is all.” He scrubs his hand down his face and then gives Naruto a semi-scolding look, smirking lightly. “You scared the shit out of us, you knucklehead.”

Naruto has the grace to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his head before he remembers that hurts. “S-sorry… But, uh…what exactly am I apologizing for…? How’d I get here again…?”

Shikamaru huffs a laugh. Honestly, this guy… “With how hard you hit your head, I’m not surprised you need a refresher.” He gets more comfortable in his chair and then fixes Naruto with a serious stare. “Depending on how this goes, this might not be the easiest thing to hear, so fair warning. Frankly, I’m glad you’re already lying down.” Naruto’s caught off guard for a moment, but he nods in the next one. Shikamaru takes that as a signal to start. “Well, for starters, you’ve been out for over a week.”

Naruto’s eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in the hospital that long before. “W-wait, really? How long?”

Shikamaru nods, resting his chin between his knuckles. “Eleven days, counting today.”

The blond pales a bit, good hand moving to the Seal on his stomach. He’s a little surprised that his immediate reaction is to worry about the Beast locked up inside him, but hey, stranger things have happened. To him, at least. He wants to try talking to it to make sure it’s okay, but he doesn’t want to freak Shikamaru out. Maybe if he explains it to him, he can try later.

As if reading his mind, Shikamaru offers, working to tread carefully, “I’ll get to the Nine Tails in a minute. But for now…what do you remember about what happened?”

Figuring the Fox is sleeping to regain its energy like he was anyway, Naruto takes a breath and does his best to think back. Everything’s so…hazy… He mostly remembers pain and blood and familiar voices…Kakashi-sensei, Sakura, and Granny Tsunade’s, specifically… Before that…—!

A face appears in his mind’s eye, and he bolts upright, Sasuke’s name on his lips, but the pain chokes it off and Shikamaru’s urgent, careful hands stop him halfway. It takes a moment for him to get his breath back. “Sa-Sasuke…! He was…!” Suddenly distracted by more important things, he doesn’t even register Shikamaru gently pushing him back down on the bed. “S-Shikamaru, is—Kakashi-sensei and Sakura—!” He swallows, blue eyes blazing as he breathes through the pain. He doesn’t want to even entertain the thought of being wrong. “A-are they okay?”

Shikamaru swears, no matter how old they get, Naruto’s insane devotion to his friends will always be one of his favorite things about him. He nods, a reassuring smile on his face. “They’re just fine. They made it back here with barely a scratch.” He pokes Naruto’s forehead gently. “It’s you we’ve all been worried sick about.”

Naruto’s whole body sags with the force of his relieved sigh, spring-coiled tension gone in a second. “Thank goodness…”

Shikamaru’s smile grows before he sobers again. “So, what do you remember? Let’s start there.”

Naruto narrows his eyes in concentration, and as the memories start to come back, he feels his stomach drop. “I-I remember…Kakashi and Sasuke about to fight when…S-Sakura tried to—“ he swallows, “—to take him out h-herself. Sasuke retaliated by—by t-trying to stab her with a—a k-kunai through the—” The last word turns to ash on his tongue, too awful to say, but he gestures to his throat with a trembling hand to finish the thought regardless. His words are shaky, horrified, more so as he goes on, and he swallows again, curling a fist in his sheets for purchase. “That’s—that’s when I jumped in. I-I saved her, and then…t-the three of us, all of Team 7, we…w-we tried to convince him to—to come back with us…b-but…” he breathes a laugh, a bitter, angry, almost scared thing, a like smile on his face, “…h-he was talking crazy… He said he—he killed Danzo and that h-he was—was going to k-kill us and then…d-destroy the Leaf to—to ‘cleanse the Uchiha name’…” His fist in the sheets tightens, though he tries to take a shaky breath to steady himself. “I’ve…I’ve never seen him like that before… It was…” he glances up at Shikamaru, knowing he’ll understand, “…it reminded me of the old Gaara, like he sounded when we stopped him from killing Lee all those years ago… That’s what he sounded like...”

Deranged. Unhinged. Totally unrecognizable from the person they knew. Hell, those are being generous…

Shikamaru swears under his breath, frowning as he glares at the floor. He knew the Uchiha was a little sick in the head, but nothing like this…! Looking back up at Naruto, he asks, “Anything else?”

He thinks, but then shakes his head. “Everything after that is…a blur, really. Bits and pieces, a lot of blood and pain, but that’s it. Mind filling me in?”

Shikamaru’s frown deepens, but he sits up a little straighter nonetheless. He’s always been one to rip off bandages quickly. “You used your clones to stop Kakashi-sensei from interfering and then went after Sasuke yourself. Once you two started fighting, there was nothing Kakashi and Sakura could do but watch. There was no way in hell they were getting between you two.” He can only imagine how hard that must have been for them to watch. “The fight went on for a long time, and it got pretty brutal. Sakura had to look away after a while. She couldn’t stand to see you two hurt each other like that. The only reason it stopped without both of you dying was because some guy in a mask showed up and took Sasuke away. You wanted to go after them, but you ended up coughing up blood and passing out a second later. Kakashi and Sakura got you back here as fast as they could, and then Sakura and Lady Tsunade headed the three surgeries necessary to save your life. According to Lady Tsunade, though, it wasn’t just them who saved you.”

He nods toward Naruto’s Seal. “It was the Nine Tails inside you, too.” Naruto’s eyes widen, and he looks down at where the demon resides. “It used up a lot of its chakra to keep you alive after yours was depleted. That’s also why it’s taking you so long to heal. Since the pair of you are basically out of chakra, the Nine Tails can’t accelerate your healing like it normally would, so your recovery’s pretty much slowed to a crawl.” Taking a sip of his water, he continues, “Anyway, after you got out of surgery, you were still in really bad shape. All the doctors and nurses did their best to take care of you, and Sakura and Lady Tsunade even stepped in and did some special medical ninjutsu stuff where they could, but it was touch and go almost the whole time. Some days were better than others. We were all really afraid you weren’t gonna make it this time.” He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, mostly in relief. “But thankfully, you’re awake now, so that’s over. Thank goodness… I’m getting way too old for this stuff…”

When Naruto doesn’t immediately laugh and spout some quip about Shikamaru only being a few weeks older, the chunin looks up to make sure he’s okay.

He finds Naruto staring up at the ceiling, for once completely silent. His eyes are dull, a shade or two darker than they were a few minutes ago, almost listless. His expression is much the same, but Shikamaru can tell there’s a whole maelstrom of emotions playing behind both.

“Where’s Sasuke now?” Even his voice has lost most of its inflection. He sounds…exhausted, but it’s more than that. Almost...defeated.

Shikamaru swallows, trying to quell the worry starting to turn his stomach. He hopes it’s just the shock and maybe a reaction to the memories coming back. “Hard to say. According to Kakashi-sensei and Sakura’s reports, when that masked man came for Sasuke, it was like they just vanished into thin air. There wasn’t a trace of them left, not even a chakra signature. Kakashi has a theory that it was some kind of jutsu unique to that man. An ANBU team was dispatched to the area to see what clues they could find, if any, and they did find a red-haired woman who claims she was Sasuke’s…assistant or something, but as far as Sasuke goes…” He shrugs, next words riding on a tired sigh as he scratches his head. “For now, it looks like we’re back to square one.”

There’s a long, pregnant silence for several moments. The clock ticks by, but Shikamaru can’t bring himself to break it, waiting instead on bated breath for his friend’s response.

Naruto, for his part, heard everything, it’s just…it’s like there’s white noise playing in the background of his mind. He’s not sure if it has something to do with the Nine Tails’ weakness, his own, or maybe it’s all in his head. He’s trying so hard to process everything he’s just remembered and learned, but…it’s too much. All of it’s too much. He wishes it would stop, especially the static. It’s not helping anything. Maybe…he just needs more sleep. “I see…”

His voice is even more despondent than before, and that combined with the way he rolls over onto his side, his back to Shikamaru, sets the older boy further on edge. “Naruto…are you okay?” he asks softly. He’s well aware how stupid a question like that probably is right now, but he doesn’t care. He needs to know, and more than that, he wants to. This would be a lot to take in for anybody, but especially Naruto, who loves with absolutely everything he has in him, and hell, he basically fought his former teammate to the death (for a second time), so it makes sense that this would negatively affect him. Of course it does. It’s only natural. He remembers the last time Naruto shut down like this, after his first near-death fight with Sasuke in the Valley of the End. But still, this…it feels…different somehow. He can’t quite put his finger on why yet. He just hopes it won’t be worse. God forbid.

Finally, curling into himself a little more, Naruto answers, “Y-yeah…” His voice is so hollow and low that Shikamaru almost has to strain to hear it. The brunette swears he’s the worst liar in the world. He’s not even trying at this point. It only makes him worry more. “Hey…Shikamaru…?”

Said boy leans forward so he can hear better. “Yeah? What’s—?”

Suddenly, there’s a bandaged arm around him, and the next thing Shikamaru knows, Naruto’s hugging him. He couldn’t even sit up before without being in intense pain, but now, through sheer force of will, he’s hugging him. Shikamaru breathes an exasperated laugh. “Thank you, Shikamaru. For staying.”

It’s barely more than a whisper, but Shikamaru hears it like it’s the only thing that matters. Right now, to him, it is. He gets the feeling Naruto isn’t just talking about being here when he woke up either. He can’t help but smile and hug his friend back gently, not wanting to hurt him more than he’s probably hurting himself. He feels Naruto relax in his arms, and he holds him just a little tighter, letting his face tuck just slightly into the blond’s shoulder. He’s so, so glad he’s alive. “Don’t mention it. What else are friends for?”

Naruto actually does manage a chuckle at that, and Shikamaru considers it a personal victory. They stay like that for several seconds more before settling Naruto back in bed.

“H-hey, um…” Shikamaru’s steady, calm gaze never leaves the blue-eyed boy; he wants to help in any way he can, “…don’t leave?” Then, even quieter, “Please?”

The whirlwind in Shikamaru’s gut dies down, if only a little, and even though Naruto’s too embarrassed to look at him, feeling his request childish, he hopes he can feel the way his gaze softens. He leans back in his chair to get a little more comfortable. If the nurses want to throw him out now, they’re going to have to contend with Naruto’s word as well as his own. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises quietly. “Sleep well, Naruto.”

---

“I’m going to kill all of you…”

“You never had a family! You couldn’t possibly understand!”

“The Hidden Leaf will be destroyed by my own hand!”

Images of the Hidden Leaf in burning ruins pass by, nondescript screams and sobs piercing the air. Bodies everywhere—crushed, burning, impaled, cut in half, dismembered—so many there’s almost no open ground to be seen. Moving closer to the center, all of Naruto’s mentors and friends are lying on the ground, unmoving and unseeing. They’ve been killed, murdered, in chilling, gut-wrenching ways, each worse than the last. Those closest to Naruto were dealt the worst deaths by far.

In the middle of it all, Sasuke holds a dying Naruto by his collar, grinning at him like a lunatic, eyes wild. He leans in close, his Magekyo Sharingan glowing an unsettling red. Naruto can see and smell the blood coating his lips and teeth, gushing from now-blind eyes. “I win…Naruto!”

--

“No! Sasuke!”

Naruto shoots upright instantly, screaming loudly enough to wake the rest of the patients on the floor.

“Whoa, hey!”

His good arm clutches at his chest where a huge hole was a second ago, he’s sure of it.

“Naruto!”

He’s shaking like a leaf, drenched in sweat, breathing and heart rate erratic.

“Damn it! Can’t you hear me?!”

Tears flow freely from blue eyes that can see nothing but the carnage and world-ending in his nightmare. Part of him knows it’s not real, but he can’t—he can’t shake it—!

“Hey, Naruto!”

Naruto snaps his neck to find Shikamaru standing at his side. He has a tight, tremulous grip on his shoulder, and the older boy’s looking at him like he’s afraid he’ll pass out or start screaming again any second. They’re both breathing hard, but for two very different reasons. Shikamaru, seeing the change in him immediately, lets out a shaky breath, worry pinching his brow hard. “Hey, hey…” He squeezes his shoulder a little more to hopefully help ground him in reality. “You with me?”

Naruto takes a minute to catch his breath and slowly ease his white-knuckled fist from his shirt so he can reach up to wipe his eyes and face and then rest it on Shikamaru’s. He nods. “Y-yeah…I-I think so…” Shikamaru doesn’t let up right away, not moving an inch, and Naruto tries to manage a smile for him. It’s pitiful, but it’s something. “S-sorry if I scared you…”

A few more cautious seconds, and like the string holding him up has been cut, Shikamaru’s whole body slumps and he takes a heavy seat on the edge of Naruto’s bed. He sighs wearily and buries his face in his hand, just trying to breathe. He shakes his head. “No, it’s…don’t worry about it…”

He says that, and yet his shoulders are trembling, just slightly. Naruto isn’t sure he’s noticed. He gets the feeling his friend might have had a tougher time waking him up than he wants to tell him. Suddenly worried he might have actually hurt him in his terror, he looks him over for any injuries, but doesn’t find any. He lets out a relieved, silent sigh of his own. Thank goodness… “I’m…I’m sorry…” He winces at the sound of his own voice. It’s even worse than when he first woke up. Probably from all the crying and screaming. “It was…” he looks away, embarrassed and ashamed to have caused all this trouble, voice falling, “…it was just...a nightmare…”

Shikamaru, while listening intently, takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He does that a few times before he lets his hand fall. It’s a calming exercise Asuma taught him years ago. It almost always works, and this is no exception. He’s grateful.

Turning back to Naruto, he hesitates a half-second ahead of reaching out to squeeze the blond’s fingers lightly. After so many years of being friends and as observant as he is, the notion that physical affection is something Naruto lives for hasn’t been lost on him. Never mind that he’s not usually especially physically affectionate himself, if he can give Naruto some comfort right now, damn it, he’ll do just about anything. “I know. I heard. About Sasuke attacking the village and killing everyone in horribly brutal ways, right?” Naruto looks at him like he’s grown two heads, and he explains, a tiny, wry smirk coming despite himself. “Unfortunately, your mumbles and screams didn’t leave much to the imagination.”

Paling, Naruto shakes his head roughly to get rid of the resurfaced images. “S-sorry…”

Shikamaru frowns. “Hey, stop that. This is not something you have to apologize for,” he tells him firmly. “After what you’ve been through, I don’t blame you for freaking out, even in your sleep. Any sane person would.”

Naruto breathes a laugh at that, somewhat relieved. Still, something in his expression is almost… haunted. ‘Sane,’ huh…? “So I’m not a drag, then?”

Shikamaru recognizes that look on sight. He used to wear it all the time as a kid, and it comes back once in a while when he’s reminded of back then. Hell, even just a few short years ago. His answering almost-snarl makes Naruto look up at him with wide eyes, but Shikamaru can’t help it. “No, of course not.” He doesn’t care if it’s been years. He still wants to punch all the ignorant bastards in this village who ever made Naruto feel like he was nothing but a worthless demon. He was a child, for God’s sake! “You are not a drag, idiot. You never could be.”

A heartbeat, and something in Naruto’s face and eyes softens, the shadows leaving his eyes, and a more believable, if still small, smile paints his lips. Shikamaru feels himself relax at that alone. “Got it. Thanks, Shikamaru.”

“You’re welcome.” It’s quiet for a good few seconds, and then, quietly, hesitantly, “So…do you wanna talk about it?”

Naruto blinks and then thinks. He could tell him what he’s thinking and feeling, but…right now, it’s all still kind of a mess inside, and that nightmare didn’t help. He might be able to help him figure out a solution, but he also gets the feeling that Shikamaru would tell him this is something he has to figure out for himself. With that in mind, he slowly shakes his head. “Not yet. I…I still need to…sort some things out. In my head and…my heart, too. How I’m feeling…you know?” Blue eyes leisurely move to meet brown. His tiny smile’s grown a bit. “But thank you. I’ll tell you when, okay?”

Shikamaru isn’t so sure he likes letting this lie, but…he trusts Naruto. He trusts that he’ll come to him if he needs someone to confide in. “Sure. Take your time. I’ll be here.”

Naruto softens, tries really hard not to think of the three clean-through sword wounds that traveled the length of Shikamaru’s midsection in his nightmare. He swallows, does his best to remind himself that the blood on his tongue isn’t real. His smile wavers, turns fragile, but then bounces back to be even bigger than before. “T-thanks, Shikamaru. You’re the best.”

Shikamaru’s cheeks color slightly at the compliment, not expecting it. Avoiding his gaze momentarily, he gently pushes Naruto back down on the bed. “Again, you’re welcome. Now…” he moves from the mattress back to his chair so he doesn’t crowd his friend, “…get some sleep. For real this time.” Sensing he’s nervous, he reaches out to squeeze his fingers again, leaving them there. If it’ll help him sleep and avoid any more nightmares for the night, he doesn’t mind. He offers a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. If I’m wrong, I’ll eat my words and do something we both know I think is a total drag.”

Naruto laughs, for real this time. It looks like some of his color’s finally coming back, too. That’s good. “A—” a big yawn interrupts him, and his eyelids start to droop; his exhaustion’s rushing back now that he feels warm and safe again, “—all right... Night…Shikamaru…”

He’s out like a light in just a few seconds, and that means Shikamaru can finally relax himself. He doesn’t plan on sleeping just yet, wanting to make sure Naruto really will be okay first, but he’ll get there eventually. Leaning back in his chair, head propped against the wall, he looks out the window at the clear, starry night sky. They might not be clouds, but they’ll do.

Something about all this tells Shikamaru that Naruto’s recovery won’t be as smooth as the last time.

But lucky for him?

This time, he has Shikamaru at his back.

[artificialqueens]

in the sky with the fire below (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: This was going to be a small 5+1 drabble, but somehow turned out to be much longer. I think it’s one of my favourite things I’ve written to date. As always, thank you to writ and bean for being the certified Best™ and making writing so much fun. Title taken from ‘Reforget’ by Lauv. 

(read on ao3) | (find me at plastiquetiaras)

Five times that Brooke doesn’t know what to say, and one time that the words can’t be held back.

i.

“We’re done.”

The two words knock him out one after another, caving in his chest like they’re anvils. They may as well be, from the way that he can’t breathe anymore, how the world feels slightly tilted off of its axis.

Vanessa looks at him with a challenge in his eyes, daring him to say something. To fight him, yell, plead, anything but what he’s doing now. 

But he doesn’t. 

Brooke is tired. Tired of the bickering, tired of being on completely different pages, tired of not being able to give Vanessa what he wants. Tired of not being enough, the way that he should.

Is it worth it? Is he worth it?

He’s seen relationships fall apart around him. His friends’, his parents’, ones that start so promising and are recalled breathlessly with so much happiness. But only last for so long. 

The characteristics that people love about each other turn out to be the same ones that push them apart. Two sides of the same coin that can never quite land the way it’s supposed to. 

He thought waiting for the right time, the right guy, would keep him from it. From experiencing the way that a person can turn from being the most beautiful one in the room to one that needs to be avoided at all costs. He had thought that he’d found it, found a person that wouldn’t make him want to pull away. 

He was wrong. 

Vanessa had always said that he wanted someone to fight for him. To give him that romantic moment, the movie ending that makes the audience wish that they had packed a box of tissues when heading to the movie theatre. 

“So that’s it? You’re not gonna say nothing?” 

He doesn’t. 

“Coward.”

ii.

Oh, lord. 

“Well, wasn’t that just spicy!” His fellow queen that is co-hosting the viewing party looks positively delighted.

The audience is cheering along with her, some of them yelling ‘Miss Vaaaanjie’ because he’s never gonna be able to escape from Vanessa now, is he?

He should have remembered that this episode was going to be the first one where they kissed. Not even a kiss, just a light peck. Them fooling around in the workroom, smack dab in front of the cameras because they were having fun, damnit. 

It didn’t even mean much, back then. They were just messing around. It was before things had shifted and Brooke fell into it with his whole heart, only to be left in a bottomless pit that he’s still trying to escape from, to get back out of. 

He realizes that his co-host is looking at him with an expectant expression. “Well?”

Fuck. She must have asked something. “Uh, what?”

“There you have it, folks. That little kiss was apparently so good that it’s still leaving her speechless. My, my, my, Brooke Lynn. Didn’t think you were the type to go after those cookies on national television.” 

The audience is cheering louder and louder, and it makes him wish that he could disappear into his chair, fucking vanish from the face of the planet. How many weeks of this does he have ahead of him? Of more than just a light peck on camera, of feelings and arms wrapped around each other and kisses that meant so much more than that first one and their lip sync against one another, when one half of his heart got sent home without him?

The ending of the commercial break feels like a lifeline, when the eyes that are focused on him shift towards the projector screen as the episode starts up once more. He breathes a sigh of relief when it appears that no one is looking at him, takes a swig of his drink.

He’s gonna have to think of some better answers. Some prepared ones that don’t leave him bumbling like an idiot, stuttering as he tries to answer questions about moments on television which barely scratch the surface of their relationship.

Past relationship.

He needs a cigarette. 

iii. 

‘Crazy in Love’ is playing. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal - it’s usually not enough to make him even blink; the song is present in the music libraries of pretty much every bar that he goes to. 

But tonight he’s just finished a show in a bar in Tampa, and already thrown the last makeup wipe into the trashcan of the dressing room, packed up his drag. He’s ready to go home, really. 

Well. His hotel room. Not home. 

But ‘Crazy in Love’ echoes over the speakers as he tugs his small suitcase out of the dressing room, past drunken partygoers and queens still in a half-state of drag. The beats, the setting, everything is so familiar; gives him a sense of déjà vu. 

September 2018. When Vanessa had a gig here at his home bar in Tampa and Brooke spent a whole day driving down from Nashville to surprise him. 

The noise of delight, the way that Vanessa had thrown himself into his arms and hadn’t wanted to let go had been worth it. 

Brooke had come to Vanessa’s gig, watched him get in drag and perform for loving fans. Had rained money on him because Vanessa deserved it, deserved to be appreciated, to be adored. 

They had made out in the very same dressing room, Brooke wiping the smudges of lipstick off of his own lips, slightly drunk but not enough to explain the giddy smiles on both of their faces. 

‘Crazy in Love’ had blared as Brooke helped Vanessa pack up his drag, looped an arm through his. They had gone through the same hallway, singing along obnoxiously off key and loud enough for a fellow queen to exclaim ‘Goddamn, shut the fuck up!’

They had gone back to one of their hotel rooms, and for a few hours nothing had mattered - no flights to catch, no unsaid feelings, no timezone changes completely fucking up their systems. 

It’s different tonight. 

No Vanessa - just him, the way he’s wanted, right? The way it had seemed to just be easier, right?

Right. 

Brooke can’t really stop himself as he taps out Vanessa’s number with the pulsing beat of the music overhead. He needs to tell him about the song, where he is right now. He waits for it as it rings once, twice, three times. 

Listens as he doesn’t pick up. 

He steadies himself during the voicemail spiel (“I’m not here, ho, leave a fuckin’ message, BYE”), though it’s not enough to keep him from flinching during the resultingbeep. 

The line crackles. He’s silent, watches the seconds pass by on the clock on the wall before the answering machine beeps again, signalling that he’s run out of time to record a message. 

He doesn’t call again. 

iv.

Brooke can handle it.

The idea of touring with Vanessa and the rest of the season eleven cast had initially filled him with trepidation. Doing shows with Vanessa - not just one, where they’d kiki for only a few hours, but instead night after night. Travelling between cities by bus and plane and being around him all the time, in a way that they haven’t been since they were…well.

But it’s fine. They’re friendly, they are. Brooke believes it. He can talk to Vanessa without the telltale knife that’s been buried in his chest for the last few months twisting itself even more. Seeing Vanessa doesn’t make him want to run away, or smoke until his lungs crackle and burn they way that it did before. 

Oh, yeah. He’s cutting down on that, too. Not only because it’s bad for his health (he knows that, he does), but because it gives him something to focus on, to do. Something to control, to distract him. Somehow, as backwards as it is, he’s been holding on.  

He feels like he’s in a delicate homeostasis with Vanessa - a combination of elements that are unstable on their own, heading towards destruction, but when combined together create a strange balance, a calm, no matter how imperfectly they fit. 

Brooke’s able to joke around with him, have a normal conversation - so what if it’s a bit more of a surface level dialogue than he wants it to be, what does it matter?

They have a stability. It’s not perfect, but it protects not only their sanity, but that of their tourmates too. 

Brooke starts to believe that they’re gonna get through this tour in one piece.

That is, until Calgary. 

Brooke’s black catsuit sits around his waist and his pointe shoes dangle from his fingers. He has approximately 17 minutes until he has to be ready to go in the wings for his number, to step on after Ra’jah’s performance. 

But he wants to grab a snack, and Nina always knows the best snacks from the catering table to mix together. As a result he never goes on a snack run without her, but she’s not in any of the dressing rooms, nor is she chatting with any crew members in the halls backstage. 

Which leaves the stage and the wings. 

Brooke approaches the wings carefully, years of dance training instilling in him not to make any noise. Nina’s yellow wig is easy to spot between the curtains, and she shushes him with a hand before he can even mutter the word ‘snacks’ into her ear. She gestures to the stage, and suddenly Brooke can see why.

Vanessa.

The first and last time that Brooke had seen Vanessa perform to ‘No Drama’ was during filming, the lip-sync with Shuga where he had fucking sang his heart out to stay. Ru had described it as magical. Brooke agreed. It was an experience so ethereal that he saw the pieces Vanessa had left of himself on the stage, the frustration and the emotions and feelings that he couldn’t keep in any longer. The release in Vanessa’s shoulders when he was told that he was staying. Brooke couldn’t tear his eyes away, couldn’t let go of Vanessa once they were off stage, holding his shaking body as he cried into his shoulder. 

Watching Vanessa right now, whipping the same leopard print caftan around the stage with so many emotions flitting across his face - anger, pain, passion - is enough to make Brooke never want to tear his eyes away. He can’t, not even while Nina is tapping his shoulder because nothing else matters, not when his force of nature (no, not his anymore, he should remember that) is on stage and creating magic again.

Does Vanessa do this every night, every tour stop? Release what’s in his heart to the audience because it’s all too heavy to carry on his own? How has Brooke never seen it before?

He only realizes that the number is done when the roar of the audience is too loud to ignore, when Vanessa grins that ever-so dazzling smile of his and takes a bow, wiping the stray tear tracks on his face.

Nina lets out a whoop beside him when Vanessa gets closer, ducks into the wings. He looks up at him with those brown eyes which always say so much without even trying, while at the same time leaving Brooke himself at a loss for words. 

That was amazing. You’re amazing. 

I love you. 

He doesn’t say any of it, breath hitching in his throat. Nina’s talking to him, to them, Vanessa’s saying things back but he doesn’t hear it. Not after the words are still washing over him, bringing down his resolve brick by brick. 

I still love you. 

v.

Brooke is not really sure how to deal in the aftermath. The realization that keeping Vanessa at an arm’s length, staying friendly and professional is not sustainable. 

He can’t do it. 

But who is he to ask for more? When Vanessa seems okay and thriving and happy and living his best life on tour? He goofs off with Silky and A’keria out of drag, voice carrying throughout the tour bus and Brooke wishes that he could be a part of it. He preens in front of thousands of fans that call his name, lighting up the stage with his smile (how can Brooke not watch every night now?) because he’s incredible and he knows it and deserves all of the praise that he gets.

It’s not like Brooke hasn’t known that he still loves Vanessa. He had said so at the reunion, he said it to Vanessa backstage away from the cameras, and every time it had been received with a pang of bitterness because of the words that Brooke hadn’t said. 

That he couldn’t handle the relationship, that he wanted space and room to enjoy the post season eleven hype. That a relationship hadn’t been his highest priority. 

Funny how things change. Now Brooke is the one pining like an idiot, his love for Vanessa colouring his vision, his own performances, how much he drinks to try and forget. Vanessa is the one enjoying life, doing just fine without him. 

Nina squeezes his shoulder when he tells her about the fact that he’s completely, utterly fucked. Replies that she knew, she can tell, the entire fucking cast can tell because his big puppy eyes aren’t exactly subtle to everyone who isn’t Vanessa. 

“Tell him. He should know.” Nina’s eyes are encouraging, almost pleading. He knows that’s on him, because Vanessa makes him broody and twitchy and Nina has certainly been on the receiving end of things. He needs to fix that. 

“He’s happy now. I can’t pull him back down again.” He doesn’t want to ruin Vanessa a second time, be the cause of their destruction no matter how much his heart is telling him to do just that. 

“How do you know it won’t pull both of you back up instead?”

She has a point. 

So he plans to do so in Seattle, to at least try because doesn’t he owe himself that? Some form of closure?

It feels too strange of a term to apply to his relationship with Vanessa. Even if over, it feels like they’re constantly drawn to each other, two planets trapped within one another’s gravitational pull, to weak to separate. He’s not sure if they can ever get closure. 

But he wants to be honest. Wants Vanessa to know that he’s all in. He’s an option, if Vanessa wants it. 

The two shots of tequila that he took at the bar light up his veins, mixing with the high of another successful performance, another show ticked off the list. He weaves through the crowd, avoiding the drunken partygoers and his fellow queens out of drag enjoying yet another afterparty.

Brooke cranes his neck, listening for Vanessa’s telltale booming voice that more often than not acts like a beacon when trying to figure out where he is. It doesn’t project over the pulsing music the way that it normally does, and for a second Brooke starts to wonder whether Vanessa is still even at the bar. But then he sees him.

Leaning against a pillar, smiling up at some guy whose back is facing Brooke, but who is definitely tall and blonde. Real great. He’s fine, it doesn’t matter.

Vanessa tugs on the guy’s collar, leans in on his tiptoes to whisper something into his ear and it’s fine, really, Vanessa is allowed to do that. Brooke has no right to say anything at this point, he really doesn’t. He shouldn’t, anyway. 

Vanessa is happy. He’s moved on. He deserves to be happy. 

Why does it feel like his heart is being torn apart, then?

He’s not sure how long he stands there, frozen, his feet lead bricks that drag down, down, down, into the core of the earth, unable to move. Though when Vanessa leans in and the guy wraps an arm around his waist and cups Vanessa’s face and kisses him, the ground lets go of Brooke. His feet are moving and he has to go, get out, past the other sweaty bodies and into the cool air because he needs to breathe in something other than the matching ugly tastes of jealousy and yearning that poison his insides. 

He’s not going to say anything. 

+ i.

Brooke bangs his fist on the glass of the vending machine, trying to make the can of pop fall from the precarious position that it is currently wedged in. It doesn’t budge. 

The side of his hand hits it one more time with a thud, rests there as he leans his forehead against the glass, lets out a growl. He needs the caffeine, the sugar. Of course he’d pick the one that gets stuck. Typical. 

“What you looking so pressed for, Mami?”

Fuck. Not now. He doesn’t want to deal with Vanessa, with the way that he rips his heart clean open, not now. 

He’s just managed to push everything back down to where it is supposed to be. The last few tour stops he’s kept himself away from Vanessa, focusing on his performances and his mug and taking all of the extra shots that are offered to him because he can. 

So what if Nina looks at him with that look in her eyes laced with pity, the one often accompanied by a pat on his shoulder and an apology? There’s nothing to be sorry for. He’s fine. 

He is. 

He can put himself into tiny neat boxes, keep himself compartmentalized during this tour the way that he knows how. 

But Vanessa standing directly behind him, saying his name with a soft voice is enough to spill all of the contents of the boxes out onto the ground for everyone to see. 

“The can is stuck.” Hell, if Brooke’s going to feel like he’s dying while he talks to Vanessa, he may as well get him to help retrieve his drink.

“Lemme try.” Vanessa brushes past, hand pushing Brooke back slightly so that he can take his spot in front of the machine, and the touch feels like it’s burning into his chest. Not that Vanessa notices. 

Vanessa’s small fist hits the glass, trying to shake the can. “C’mon!” 

It’s enough to make Brooke nearly crack a smile. He loves listening to Vanessa. Sue him. 

“Fuck this shit.” Vanessa reaches into his pocket, then, pulling out some change and stuffing it into the vending machine. “Come on, come on, come on.” 

The can falls as the metal in the machine turns, makes another can fall right after it. Vanessa lets out a whoop. “There you go, bitch.” 

But he doesn’t care about the pop cans anymore, not when Vanessa’s fingers graze the inside of his wrist and send a lick of flames up his arm, lighting it on fire. Vanessa’s hand lingers, dragging down against Brooke’s palm, his fingers, brushing against each other like they’re not going to explode at any second. 

Brooke looks at him. Vanessa’s looking right back up with a defiant set in his jaw, his eyebrows raised as if he’s waiting for Brooke to say something. 

“Don’t.” One word is what Brooke can get out right now. 

“Don’t what?” Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. 

His breath hitches when Vanessa’s fingers trace up his arm.

“You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“This?” Vanessa’s nails, lightly pressing into his skin.

Fuck it. Fuck any other guys, fuck keeping himself safe in pretty boxes. It doesn’t work, anyway. Not with Vanessa.

“If you’re going to touch me, then touch me like you mean it.”

It’s all Vanessa needs; Brooke’s back hits the vending machine and the glass is cold but he doesn’t care. Vanessa’s on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around his neck and biting at his lower lip and it’s like no time has passed at all, nothing has changed. 

Except it has and Brooke’s brain is still travelling at a million miles per hour because it’s happening, this is happening, it’s fucked but he doesn’t care. 

He uses his core strength to push himself off of the vending machine and flips them around, cradling the back of Vanessa’s head before it hits the glass. Brooke presses biting kisses to his skin, the column of his neck and behind his ear and his whine makes him push a knee between Vanessa’s legs, makes his dick twitch when Vanessa immediately grinds against it. 

He pulls back, suddenly, because there’s so much to say that he hasn’t in so long and he needs to, and how can he do this without being clear?

“Do you know how hard it is to try and get over you? To forget you?” He punctuates his sentences with a hand raking up Vanessa’s sides, feels him shudder. “I can’t. I fucking can’t. I can’t do it.” 

Vanessa chases his mouth, whines when Brooke pulls back. “Then don’t. Why do you insist on making this shit difficult?”

“Because you deserve more. More than this.” It’s bitter, it’s empty, accompanying the nip that Brooke dots on his jaw. 

“You ain’t getting it, are you?” Vanessa tugs on his belt loops, somehow pulls him in closer than they already are. “I don’t want nothing else. Tried to. But I only want your sad ass.” 

Brooke tugs on his hair. “I’m not sad.” He’s not.

“Yeah, you are. Sad little puppy eyes is what you have. Now get over your bullshit. If you think I deserve more and you’re gonna keep pouting like that, then show me. Be it.” 

Vanessa knows exactly what he’s doing. Brooke can tell. Sees it in the challenge on his face, the raise of his eyebrows. The way Vanessa lifts his head up slightly, dares him to come closer again. 

So he does. 

[reigensarataka]

Have you ever made a fic rec list you could link me to?? If not what are ur fave fics???

what’s are ur fave klance fics overall?

do you have some nice fluffy klance fic recommendations? pls i need sustenance

ive been putting this off for so long now bcs i never save/bookmark the fics i read nd i can never remember the titles BUT i managed to dig some of them up so!!!!!!! under the cut bcs its kinda long wuwhwuhw

Cut to the Feeling by usernicole

“Let’s do it again,” Keith says breathlessly. “Here and on every planet we come across. Let’s get married on every planet we can.”“Are you joking?” Lance asks, incredulous. “You really want to get married to me on every planet we land on?”“Yes,” Keith says, voice high pitched and shaky with residual adrenaline. “Yes. Every planet. If it feels like this every time, let’s get married ten, twenty, a hundred times.”

 “Let’s break records. I want the universe to see us and be jealous.”

Or: Five times Keith and Lance get married, and one time they don’t.

my good bitch. my dude. if u havent read this then PLEASE do urself a favor nd read it asap…. like i shit u not this is probs my all time fave and its just them getting married on every planet nd. its just. idk just rly gives u that warm feeling in ur heart u know……

call me, beep me by orphan_account

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose?(00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake?(00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it?(00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy…(00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones?(00:45) What(00:46) The(00:46) Fuck???(00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

a classic from the early fandom days, rly popular so yall probs read it already but text fic nd just. yah its cute…..

A Light In The Dark by usernicole

Far away from his friends at the castle, Keith’s only way of communicating with them is a battered old phone. This is maybe going to be harder than he thought.

A long-distance, friends-to-lovers fic, set during season four.

u might not know of this but i am one huge slut for these kind of fics nd all i gtta say is this shit rly changed my goddamn life (i think there r two parts but im not sure if i read the second one so!!)

blue notes by mothpoem

This laughter, here and now, is hushed, and soft as rain, and Lance can feel it against his face, in warm puffs of air. It’s a laugh reminiscent of a furtive secret, like something only Lance is allowed to see. He watches it run its course in the near-pitch black of the observatory, with starlight gleaming weakly against Keith’s pale face, and that’s right about when Lance’s heart gives a few foreboding throbs, heavy on the bass, as if to say, they’re here (they being romantic feelings for Keith Kogane, Lance’s former mortal enemy and current friend).

Oh, he thinks to himself, with sudden and startling clarity. I’m Fucked, capital F.

its not finished nd i havent even read chap 2 yet but its a rly good take on lances pov from all the moments from s1 (also the garrison *eye emoji*) with keith nd. yeah.. its good……

and we dream of home by mothpoem

“Then come see me,” Lance murmurs, and it makes Keith’s heart pound behind his breastbone. “Us, I mean. Once a week or something? Like mental health check-ins. We can just hang out, or…or go on low-priority, low-stress missions? Scouting, or flower-picking for Coran, or supply runs. Dumb stuff. Just…so we know how you are. I don’t want…I mean, we all miss you. And I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but…it feels like you’re not…not okay, Keith.”

Well, Keith thinks, a little weakly. He never really stood a chance, did he?

“Okay,” he says, right away. No fight. No refusal.

His life is a hell of a lot easier when he lets himself cave under all the ways he wants Lance’s luminous attention, and company, and friendship. All the ways he wants Lance, full stop.

another one of those fics set during s4……… once again nothing to add just. please read it…… i loved this…….. sm………………

Moonset Deep by MilkTeaMiku

  All his life he’d been told to make sure he was never seen – it was what all the children were taught from the moment they were born. Never let a human see you, never fall in love with a human, and most importantly, never kiss one.

For Lance, humans were a mystery. He’d lived beneath the surface of the ocean with his shoal his entire life, and had intended to remain there. He knew the danger humans posed to his kind, and what would happen if he came close to one. That’s why, when he found one drowning, his first instinct was to save him.

He’d never been good at following the rules anyway.

mer au!! i started reading this a rly long time ago and im on chap 27 i think…. but this ones good…….

can we burn it slow by saltylances/stereostars on tumblr

“Sweet dreams, pilot.” A wink. “Make sure not to drool over me too much.”

Keith thrusts his middle finger over his shoulder as he steps out of the room, but he can’t hold back the smile that kicks up the side of his mouth. When he dares a look back, just before the doors are about to slide shut, he sees Lance kiss his fingertips and blow air over his palms at Keith.

It makes Keith wonder if it’s possible to fall any harder.

In which alternating snapshots between Keith and Lance lead to their eventual relationship.

WUH i love anything saaj writes….. a masterpiece…. also please read ‘so what are you waiting for’ too………..

under your feet the dirt turns to gold by laallomri

“I like you,” Lance says in a rush.

Keith blinks.

“That is—” Lance clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. His hands are still in his pockets, his shoulders still hunched. “I like you—I like-like you. Like, in a more-than-friends-way like you.”

For a long moment Keith can only stare at him, astonishment and disbelief and cautious delight warring for dominance. And then, because he’s an idiot, because he spent a whole goddamn year in a goddamn shack in the middle of the goddamn desert and has no idea how to be a socially competent person, because he’s Keith, he says, “That was a lot of the word ‘like’ in one sentence.”

In which Keith has about a dozen chances at happiness, and sabotages (nearly) all of them.

yummy……….. this one rly hit the spot my dudes……… i think there r 2 parts too!!

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth

“You’re really into him,” Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance’s face is on fire.  Hunk is killing him.

“Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would’ve mowed his ass like grass.  That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife.”

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet.  Or maybe just the one.

a classic…. one of the first fics i read so i dont rmmbr much but yeah……

Stormchasing by sinelanguage

This isn’t how Lance intended to spend his vacation, chasing after Keith’s premonitions. But here he is, and he’s one hundred percent blaming Keith for all the trouble they’re about to get into. Keith makes bad decision, Lance makes mistakes, and both of them are stuck together on a space pirate adventure neither of them asked for.

if im not wrong i think this is one of those handcuffed together fics… also rly cute……

we’ll make it, you and me by asexualrey

“Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I’m going to kiss you.“ 

the description gives it away….. yall know what tf goin on……..

Public Displays of Affection by VaraderoBeach

Lance held his breath. He knew, at this rate, they’d have two options: fight with what they had (which was Keith’s knife and team spirit) and hope they can skirt by with the help of the locals, or submit and become prisoners to the Galra. Neither situation was ideal. Lance looked to Keith, at his eyes and his eye lashes, the curve of his nose and the pink in his lips. He knew it was bad timing, but he really wanted to kiss Keith before whatever happened, happened.

But when Keith turned his body to face him and said, “Kiss me.” With the same amount of emotion one would say, “Hand me that stapler,” it threw Lance completely off guard.

ft that scene from the winter soldier (i think??) yeah…… good food………

something as true as this by astrolesbian

“You better fucking call me,” Lance says, and reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder, and smiles, sad and bright all at once. “I’m not taking no for an answer on this one. Okay?”

“Okay,” Keith says.

and lastly yall shld know since this is the THIRD TIME im putting a fic like this on this list that i love this shit nd just….. yeah……….. op snapped

[sunsetcurve]

this is your heart (can you feel it?) - Pt. 2

(Part 1) (Read it on AO3)

Summary: The Thundermans deal with the aftermath of Mastermind’s attack, and Max gets some closure with his father.

Relationships: Max Thunderman & Hank Thunderman, Max Thunderman & Phoebe Thunderman, Family Dynamic

Word Count: 2,268

A/N: hey everyone! i finally finished part 2 of this fic! this chapter is less action and fighting and more of the hurt/comfort and family stuff. it kind of turned into a bit of a fix-it towards the end, with some much-needed bonding between Max and Hank. thanks for reading, and i hope you like it! leave a comment or a reblog if you do!

MONDAY 11/15. 19:36 EST

Metroburg.

When he wakes up, Max is in a hospital.

It takes a minute for his vision to adjust to the bright lights. He's lying on white linen sheets, surrounded by blank walls and the smell of antiseptic, and the beeping of a heart rate monitor fills his ears.

Suddenly, panic rushes through him and he jolts upright, only to have pain sear through his chest. A small cry escapes his lips--Hospital, he can't be in a hospital--

And then there are gentle hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down even as he struggles against them. "Max, Max! It's okay!"

He blinks, the figure in front of him slowly coming into focus. "Phoebe?" he rasps, and his voice is slightly slurred and sounds like tires over gravel. "Why're we 'n a hospital?"

"We're at the superhero hospital," she explains, her hands still on his shoulders. "In Metroburg. How do you feel?"

Blearily, Max lifts a hand to rub his head and finds himself surprised at the sight of his wrist wrapped in a black cast. "Like I got...ugh, hit by a truck," he groans, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. "What-what happened?"

She hesitates for a moment and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. "What do you remember?"

He tries to think back to everything that happened before he'd blacked out. Lightning in the room, his dad's hand around his neck--no, not his dad, he thinks, and then it all comes rushing back. "Where's Dad?" he says abruptly, voice rising and sliced with harsh coughs as he starts to sit up. "Is he still--"

"He's fine," Phoebe cuts him off immediately. "They found Mastermind and put him back in prison, along with the other escapees. They're in the waiting room, I should--"

"Mom? Billy? Nora? Chloe?"

She gives a small laugh, without any real humor behind it, and pats his hand gently. "Everyone's fine, Max. We were all just worried about you."

He pauses for a moment, letting that sink in. He lifts his uninjured hand to touch the bandage on his head, the stitches on his cheek, the bruises along his jaw. His ribs twinge at even that small movement, and he winces. "How long...was I out?" he asks slowly.

"Almost three days." Her brow is creased slightly, the way it gets when she's worried, and he notices for the first time that her eyes are red and wet. "You scared the hell out of us Max, I thought--I thought--"

"M'okay, Pheebs."

"You almost weren't, though," she says shakily. "A few more seconds and he would've--" her voice breaks slightly, "and I would've just been stuck under that stupid couch, where I couldn't even move."

"It's not your fault," Max says quickly, recognizing the guilt and shame in her tone. It's characteristic of his twin, and he knows that nothing he says will make her blame herself any less, but that doesn't mean he won't try.

Phoebe shakes her head and shuts her eyes, then reaches for his unbroken hand. Her fingers tighten around his. "I'm just...I'm really glad you're okay," she breathes softly.

He squeezes her hand gently and shoots her a grin. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

She gives a small laugh and sniffs, blinking the water from her eyes. "You're right. You're way to stubborn for that." She reaches for something leaning against the table--crutches, he realizes abruptly--and pushes herself up out of her chair. Max notices the cast around her leg for the first time.

"Are you okay?"

Phoebe looks down at her foot and then back up at him, shaking her head slightly. "Yeah, this--this is nothing. The couch kind of crushed my leg but, it should be back to normal in a few weeks." Max nods, and she says, "I'm gonna go tell the others you're awake, okay?"

"Yeah," he says, watching as she limps out of the room and leaves him alone in the silence.

His ears ring uncomfortably, and he settles a little deeper into the hospital bed. Absently, he plays back the memory of the fight; the books and vases hurtling around the room, Nora pounding on the door of the closet, Phoebe struggling underneath the couch and his dad, his...not his dad, the hand around his neck, slowly squeezing, cutting off his air supply and--

"Max!"

He snaps out of the memory as a tiny pair of arms latches around his body, knocking the wind out of him. But he can't bring himself to care about the pain that shoots up his chest, not when Chloe is hugging him like he's the world. "Hey, kiddo," he says with a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around her.

Billy comes speeding into the room then, joining Chloe in crushing Max's already-mangled ribs. "You're alive!" he exclaims.

"Yeah," Max wheezes, "but I'm not sure how long I'll stay that way."

"What do you--oh," Billy scrambles off of him quickly, giving him a sheepish smile as Chloe does the same.

As they do, his parents and Nora come rushing into the room, Phoebe hopping close behind them, and Max tries--tries, and fails, not to flinch at the sight of his father. His mom cups his face in her hands, eyes wide with concern as she kisses his forehead. "Ouch--Mom," he protests, although he doesn't actually mind it all that much, and finds himself a little pleased when she pulls back but doesn't move her hands from his cheeks.

"You scared us all to death, Maximus Octavius Thunderman!" she scolds him, her voice hoarse and her eyes red. Had everyone been crying?

He gives a small laugh that quickly dissolves into a cough and lets the corner of his mouth quirk upwards. "I'm fine, Mom. Really."

Gently, she smooths back his hair and smiles warmly at him, and then he hears a soft sniffle. Nora looks up at him, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks, and he notices abruptly that she's taken her bow off, fiddling with it in her hands. "Nora, hey," he says softly. "I'm okay." She shakes her head, hastily swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "You were--you were--I was stuck in that closet, and I came out and you were just lying there, you looked like--you looked like you were dead--"

"I'm not," he says, his voice strained, and he really hopes she's not adopting Phoebe's trait of putting the world's weight on her shoulders because Nora is far too young for that. "Nora, it's okay. I'm okay."

She just sort of collapses into him, burying her head into his shoulder, and he pats her back with his unbroken hand and finds himself wondering suddenly if they've all always cared this much or if it just took him until now to notice.

The shaking of her body against his eases a little, and there's tension heavy in the silence so he says, "Almost get strangled to death and suddenly you're everyone's favorite Thunderman, huh?" and Nora gives a watery sort of laugh, but maybe it's not the best thing to say because Phoebe's hand squeezes his fingers just a little tighter and he thinks he sees his dad flinch.

He still hasn't said anything.

There's this--this look on his face, though; guilt and worry and just...anguish, and he's never felt this much concern come from his father before. Towards Phoebe, maybe, but--never towards him. He won't really meet Max's eyes, focusing instead on the IV bag or the heart monitor, the soft blue paisley-patterned curtains.

And then Max feels a sudden flash of irrational anger, because it should be him that's avoiding his dad's eyes, not the other way around, because it's him that looks at those eyes and can feel the kicks landing on his chest, can feel the blood, hot and sticky, running down his face, can feel the hand around his neck slowly tightening--

His breath hitches and then his mom's hand is on his shoulder. "Max?" she's saying, and his ears are ringing again. "Max, are you okay? You're shaking."

"Fine, I'm--" he shakes his head and sinks back into the pillows. "Fine. Just tired."

"Maybe we should leave you to rest." She puts a cool hand against his forehead. "The doctor said he'd be in to check up on you in a little bit."

Max nods slowly, and his mom starts to usher Billy and Chloe out of the room, but his dad pauses beside the bed. "Actually, er, Max, can we talk?" he says slowly.

And maybe Phoebe catches his shoulders tense, because she stops by the door to give him a look that very plainly asks if she should stay. Max gives the tiniest shake of his head. He's not entirely keen on being alone with his dad right now, but the rational part of his brain reminds him that it's not like he has anything to be afraid of. It's not like it was really his dad that put him in this hospital bed.

That doesn't stop the dread from pooling in his stomach when Phoebe limps out of the room, though.

His dad's eyes train on him. There's a few beats of silence, and then, "Max," he says, at the same time that Max says, "Dad--"

"You first," they both say together, and then his dad shakes his head. "Max, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. That--that was Mastermind, right? That wasn't you." And he hates the way he sounds so unsure, hates that he feels unsure, because he knows his dad would never, but the things his mind-controlled voice had said have wormed their way into his mind, have dragged his insecurities up to the surface and left him feeling both vulnerable and very, very afraid.

"It wasn't me," his dad agrees, and winces. "But I was watching him do it. I felt him using my powers, using me, to--to hurt you."

Max isn't sure what to say to that, so he just looks away from his father, one hand fiddling with the cast around his wrist, his fingers curling in the sheets. Finally, he asks, "Was he lying?" His dad blinks at him, silently urging an explanation. Max swallows tightly. "He said--he said I was your biggest failure." His voice is hollow. "He said y-you--that you wanted to get rid of me."

His dad doesn't say anything, just stares at him open-mouthed, and something in Max's chest plummets. He feels like he can't breathe, sure he's being strangled again--but there's no hand this time, just his father's eyes and the beeping of the heart monitor beside him and his worst fears confirmed. "I didn't--I never--" and then his voice breaks, and the tears come so suddenly he doesn't get the chance to hold them back. "I'm sorry I wasn't perfect like Phoebe," he says, half-shouts, even as the pain in his chest and his bruised throat flares. "I'm sorry I was never good enough, no matter what I did...and I know I wanted to be a villain but I never--I never wanted you to hate me--"

"Max...Max," He's not sure when his dad started calling his name, just that there are hands on his shoulders and he wants to flinch away, but they're careful, and gentle, and when Max looks up, the eyes he meets are glassy with tears. "I could never hate you," his dad says softly. "I never wanted to get rid of you...everything he said, everything he did to you...that wasn't me."

Max takes a shuddering breath, hating the way his shoulders shake as the words catch in his throat. "He said...he said you'd thank him for it," he breathes quietly.

And then his dad pulls him against his chest, arms tight but secure and safe and warm, and this time, Max doesn't wince or pull away. He lets himself be held like that, lets the tears flow and he can't remember the last time he's cried like this, because villains don't cry and heroes are too strong for that, but right now, he can't bring himself to care.

"I'm sorry, Max. I'm so sorry." His dad's hands run through his hair and Max clings to him a little tighter, sixteen years of missing his father's affection besting the one day of fear.

His dad is still holding him when his sobs fade, when the shaking of his shoulders starts to ease a little and the tears begin to slow. "If I ever--" he begins, and then swallows tightly. "Max, if I ever made you feel like you didn't matter to me...like you were worth anything less--I-I'm sorry."

Max nods wordlessly against his chest.

"And I...when you were going to join Dark Mayhem, I told you that you wouldn't be my son anymore."

His whole body tenses. "Yeah," he breathes quietly. "I remember."

"I never should have said that to you." Max pulls away for a moment to look up at his dad, whose eyes are filled with guilt, voice hard but shaky. "I was betrayed and angry and...I never should have said that. Max, you will always be my son. No matter what happens between us...you'll always be my son. I'll always love you."

Max feels his heart skip over a beat at those words, feels himself suck in a sharp breath as his eyes widen. Slowly, he lets a smile pass over his face and tucks himself close to his dad. "I love you too, Dad."

And just maybe, Max thinks, he's gonna be okay.

[chubsjiminiie]

Bʀᴇᴀᴋ Mʏ Hᴇᴀʀᴛ 🌙  preview pt 25

a/n: THERES A SECOND PART COMING TM AND THEN IMMA MERGE THEM AS ONE BUT I PROMISED TO POST TODAY AND I DIDNT GET TO FINISH BC I HAVE HW AND IVE BEEN BUSY W WORK BUT IM GOING TO FINISH TONIGHT ILLYYY

~тaeнyυng х reader

~ pt 25/??

~ birthday preview

~ prev ||  next

posts everyday at 9pm est

requests are open!

You giggle looking down at your phone seeing all your friends being a little dumb. Your birthday had finally arrived, usually you weren’t one for birthdays because they were just another regular day. At least that’s what they ended up feeling like since you had either school or work that took up most of your time.

Tae really put his all in celebrating your birthday this year. Buying gifts left and right; anything he thought that you’d enjoy he got. So far thing between the two of you really had gone well; it seemed things were getting somewhat serious. You spent almost every single day together, finding any free time to see each other and have little dates. Every time he was near your heart overflowed with love, you were falling in deep. It seemed, at least to you, his eyes were brighter, his smile sweeter, his touch a little warmer, and his heart a little softer.

With everyday that passed your feelings got stronger, and you were almost 100% sure you had fallen deeply, madly in love with Kim Taehyung, your best friend. It was different now though; before you tried your best to ignore what you felt because he’d never feel the same but that has changed. Now you knew his flirting and clinginess wasn’t all in your head, it was real. Jungkook, being his roommate, was constantly teasing you about stealing his boyfriend and hogging him night and day. There were times when he’d complain even when he wasn’t with you but you assumed it was him just messing with you. The others were very supportive about everything and very invested in the relationship.

For tonight though, you guys weren’t really bothering with thinking about the budding relationship. It was time to enjoy the party and get drunk out of your minds. All the boys had agreed on things to help you get prepare and were going to be at your place an hour early. They said you were going to need some help protecting your place for the destruction that was to come. Already you could see the mess that would be waiting for you tomorrow morning. Beer cans and bottles scattered everywhere. red solo cups covering every single flat surface, strange puddles of liquids on your wooden floor. Maybe you shouldn’t be celebrating your birthday with a hundred drunk college students… oh well.

The night before Taehyung had come over to give you his final present and stay the night with you. It was huge teddy bear and a bunch of balloons with a bouquet of roses. In that moment you had no idea how to react so you jumped on his and wrapped your legs around his waist. He got caught off guard so you both fell to the couch behind him and you both laugh. You felt your smile grow just thinking back on that memory and you looked up to your ceiling. After doing what you need you had come to lay down on your bed but you couldn’t calm your mind from constantly thinking of Tae. He was in your guest room changing into his outfit, he had brought two full bags of clothes to make sure he was prepared for any outfit color you chose. It was these small things he did that always made your heart swoon and jump out of your chest. They gave you hope, hope that everything would be alright if the two of you made the decision to stay together.

Some could call you ignorant for trusting a fuckboy, even if he’s your best friend. That made it worst thought because you had seen all the moves he makes to get girls or to break hearts, you knew his little games. There were girls in your classes that “warned” you about him, they said when they hooked up he was quick to leave and ignore their entire existence. They said he may be a little nicer because you were friends but at the end of the day he was Taehyung. Not going to lie this ran through your head a lot, you always wondered if he was playing games but you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He would never you thought, he cares way too much about you not just romantically but as a friend. Was he really the type to not give a fuck and hurt his own best friend knowing she’s head over heels for him?

You don’t know though, and that in itself drove you crazy. He had so much power in his hands, it was all in his next move to see what came out of everything.

You eyelids slowly began to close trying to keep away the negative thoughts that had already starting coming through. Tonight is for having fun, enjoying your birthday, celebrating you. Suddenly the empty side of you bed sunk down and a body laid next to yours. He slowly turned and wrapped his arm around your waist resting his on your chest.

“Princess, are you taking a nap before your ruin your liver tonight?” he whispered not wanting to wake you up in case you were really asleep.

“Mhm. Oppa really has good ideas about charging up before a party,” you giggle.

He chuckles at your comment and somehow cuddles closer onto you; you bring your free arms and wrap them around him pulling him even closer. You both had always had cuddling sessions and slept in the same bed together but it’s been completely different nowadays. They felt, weird, a good weird. The type of cuddles that made you want to giggle and blush and just be there forever if it was possible. As soon as you both started to get into your nap a loud bang can from the front door being swung open. Six voices filled the empty rooms at your place, their feet shuffling around trying to find where the star of the night was. Once they reached your room they saw the two of you laying holding each other and began their teasing. Jimin and Jungkook hyped it up the most jumping on the bed and falling on top of the both of you claiming they wanted cuddles too. Jin and Namjoon were hand in hand laughing from the door. Surprisingly Hobi and Yoongi were also hand in hand but their expressions were unreadable. Almost as if something was bothering them but as their eyes met yours their smiles appeared.  

“ALRIGHT MY CHILDREN LETS HEAD DOWN AND GET OUR DRINK ON!” Namjoon yelled overly excited.

“Hell yeah!” Jungkook jumped off the bed and made his way down with the rest of the guys.

Taehyung and you took a bit longer trying to unwrap yourselves and fix up the messiness that was created by the cuddles. As you made your way down, his hand found yours and intertwined your fingers. He loved being touchy, he lived for holding hands, hugging, and any type of affection. Time passed as you guys pregamed in the middle of kitchen. Each one of you complained about all the assignments that were being given in almost every major. Most of you being art majors, you enjoyed and hated big projects because you had creative control but the deadlines really killed.

Slowly more college students began arriving and started drinking. In the beginning most of them tried their best to greet you but as the night went on they completely forgot why they came in the first place. The music was blasting and shaking all the beautiful paintings and pictures on your wall but you didn’t mind. it felt good to let loose and celebrate you. The guys had stuck by your side most of the night wanting to drink as much as possible with you.

“No Jungkook stop you can’t say those things to a girl!!!” Jin scolded the youngest.

“Jin hyung. I only wanted to know if she keeps money in her bra like y/n!”

“You can’t ask so freely unless you know her!” he shook his head, “She’s going to think your a creep.”

“That’s okay,” Jungkook shrugged and his bunny teeth came out as his lips spread into a big smile.

You didn’t know how many shots you had taken but it was… a lot. Plus the guys were refilling your red solo cup right after you finished, it felt like you were floating at this point. Taehyung had drank just as much as you taking every shot you took filling his cup just as much as yours got filled. He was gone. You were a bit surprise to find out he was even more touchy as a drunk. He turned to face you and brought you into a hug, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head rested on your shoulder. You were leaning against a wall in your house as the rest of the group circled around you. His soft lips began to peck your shoulder sweetly, he moved up a bit and started kissing your jaw. Your knees felt weak as he got closer to your ear.

His raspy voice whispered, “You’re so beautiful y/n.”

“Thank you,” you spoke back softly not really knowing what to do.

His lips continued to leave trails of kisses along your neck and shoulders until he finally reached your lips. He only gave you a small peck and let go of you.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day long but I haven’t had the balls to,” he chuckles as he bends down speaking into your ear, “I almost forgot to tell you. I have one last present to give you. But it’s for when were both alone.”

You’re eyebrows knitted together and your head tilted to the side, “Birthday sex?” you asked teasing him jokingly.

“I mean if you’re down…” you playfully smack his arm, “No baby, its something more special. I can give you birthday sex after that if were sober enough,” he winked.

You both laughed at each other and he pulled you into his arms. This time he was leaning against the wall and your back was pressed to his chest. His head rested on the top of your head and his arms were on your shoulders. You held his hand, and watched your friends get wasted and start talking complete nonsense. Feeling in the mood to move around and take out all the energy the alcohol had given you, you drag Tae out to dance with you. Your dancing wasn’t much of anything, a couple of the guys gave you thumbs up or would make kissing faces at you. You were too out of it to feel Tae’s phone vibrate in his pocket but he noticed.

He pulled his phone out and looked down at who had texted him. He felt his  body cringe just looking at the name written on the screen while he was having a moment with you. The text read, “Where are you?”, there were 3 dots indicating she was typing. He didn’t want to but he couldn’t help it. He excused himself and went into the bathroom to text back the girl who had just texted him.