#*runs around the room chewing up furniture* I am so normal about this

[felix-of-all-trades]

AUGH YES!!! You put into words what I’ve been trying to describe to myself for MONTHS. There are SO MANY parallels and for a while I thought I was the only one who noticed them! The first thing I thought when kikimora said that he’s a child of the stars was literally just “KIRBY?!?!”

Also the general aesthetic of the titan. So, the Kirby franchise has done something that no other video game or piece of media has ever done, and that’s making me feel like I’m being taken on a magical quest, and it’s done this by just imagery alone! So when I saw the collector’s aesthetic and general theme and got that SAME feeling, I knew that it had to be connected somehow.

Also, this is probably unrelated, but KSA was my very first Kirby game, and my introduction to the Kirby franchise. All of the background designs for the levels are just all so breathtaking to me, especially the levels on other planets and in space. And the MUSIC. I know a lot of people think that this game is one of the poorer entries in terms of mechanics and just general level design, but I think this game goes so hard as a first game.

Haha, this turned into rambling, whoopsie daisy. Can you blame me though, it’s like four in the morning as of writing.

Go watch The Owl House and go play Kirby, you will not regret it, and go follow this person! I know I will!

HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

Now pass the phone to me.

GUYS.

There is no way these parallels are a coincidence.

I am 99% sure that Dana Terrace was referencing Kirby when making the Collector. For context, I've not seen For the Future yet, so please no spoilers beyond the trailer. I haven't seen anything other than Luz's palisman, that one thirty second clip from the owl club, and an irrelevant screenshot of Hunter.

Also plz don't spoil FTF in the comments or reblogs :(

That said,

TW: Discussion of Cults

Canonically,

Kirby:

god or godlike being

heavily associated with stars. As in, Hoshii no Kaabi (Kirby of the Stars)

ambiguous gender (referred to as he in American translations, gender neutral pronouns in Japanese)

rides on a star

The Collector:

god or godlike being

heavily associated with stars. "Child of the stars"

ambiguous gender, canonically a he/they

rides on a star

Still not convinced? Well I believe there was a specific game Dana was referencing: (MAJOR KIRBY SPOILERS AHEAD)

In Kirby star Allies, Kirby gains the ability to turn enemies into friends by launching friend hearts on them.

It’s an ability unlocked by a botched resurrection/rebirth of a dead god accidentally granting Kirby that ability.

No seriously, that's how it happens.

Here's a short summary for those not familiar with the Kirby franchise.

Basically, cult leader Lord Hyness and his closest followers once managed to stop an out-of-control being named Galacta Knight (shown below)

However, the people eventually began to fear LH and his ilk, so they preemptively tried to seal them away and erase their existence from history (rude). LH and his people survived and managed to obtain a vessel containing their Dark Lord (basically, an egg that housed a god or godlike being) Cult leader Lord Hyness then attempted to resurrect the god Void Termina.

But the ceremony went horrible wrong, shattering the vessel into friend hearts and dark hearts that were scattered to the stars. One such friend heart landed on Kirby, granting him the ability to quote-un-quote, "befriend" his enemies...

...

... by which I mean brainwash smaller enemies into doing his biddies while exorcising dark-heart-possessed individuals by beating the shit out of them until they were no longer usable vessels for possession. I'm not even kidding, this is actually canon.

Eventually, Kirby, with his amassed allies, confronts Belos, Hyness, who has this to say:

We are the masters of a power driven to the far reaches of the universe, and we have but one desire! Can one such as you possibly fathom how dearly we have clung to this dream across the aeons? How could you! You couldn't! Never ever ever! We who once faced those who were in such fear of our power that they sealed us away and banished us to the edge of the galaxy! US! As if THAT loveliness wasn't enough, they tried to erase our very existence from history! RUDE! Only through our magic were we able to overcome their science and achieve great prosperity! We alone were responsible for stopping that repulsive nightmare of a galactic crisis, yet this is how you repay us! This won't stand! It won't be forgiven! It won't be forgotten! Never ever EVER! Those who called us mad, are you listening? You left us at the edge of the galaxy to be forgotten, then went along your merry way, probably living somewhere pretty and peaceful! But know this! Your future is a farce! You have none! We, masters of a matter most dark, vow to be restored, as foretold in the book of legend, which everyone thought was just a fairy tale! It WASN'T! We have already obtained the vessel that contains our Dark Lord, and he will soon awaken and shower us in compassion! Look! The vessel of our Dark Lord is filling up even as we speak! Now the time for his greatness to enter our world has come! Welcome to a new history! A new age! The age of awesome! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DARK LORD! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Grace us, Gloriously Dark Looooooord!

And when cornered, he drains the life source of his closest followers, his priestesses, and uses them as fucking battering rams.

Oh and btw they're all conscious when this happens. If you listen closely, you can actually hear their grunts of pain when they hit the ground.

When that fails, he forces the god-resurrection to fruition by tossing in the priestesses' bodies and his own into the alter, bringing foooooRTH!!!

VOID TERMINA.

A morally neutral being who also uses the same tactics as Kirby to defeat his enemies (except somehow Void doing it makes it evil or something *shrug*). Oh, and Void's implied to be born from the same material as Kirby (or vice versa).

Upon Void's defeat, it's said he may be reborn in another form and perhaps someday... a friend.

AND THEN THERE'S THE OWL HOUSE

In which The Collector, a god or godlike being, was sealed away by a Titan (probably because of their destructive, reckless nature - idk for sure I haven't seen the episode). As an act of revenge, the Collector made a deal with the inhabitants of the titan trapper witches: he would grant them (or more specifically Bill - not GF Bill btw) power in exchange for slaughtering the Titans. The blood of the last Titan (King) would then be used to revive The Collector from his prison.

Then along comes a scrunkly dunkly old human who winds up trapped on the Boiling Isles, a realm populated by witches and demons living atop a carcus. Convinced of the inherently evil nature of the inhabitants, he deceives them into aiding him in their own execution.

In order to pull this off, he enlists the help of The Collector. In exchange for promising to release them, The Collector teaches Belos magic "stronger than anybody's." That is, the Draining Spell.

Belos then professes himself to be able to commune with the dead Titan (the Boiling Isles itself) and thus convinces them to brand themselves with the sigils that would serve as their metaphorical nooses.

The draining spell works, but Belos breaks his promise by using up the last of the Titan's Blood to (attempt to) travel home, only to thwarted by Luz, who traps him in the draining spell.

Meanwhile, King makes a deal with the now-betrayed Collector: stop the draining spell in exchange for their freedom and a game of "Owl House." The Collector agrees, and King follows through on his promise. Well, part of it anyway. He frees the Collector, they stop the spell, but he attempts to escape with Luz to the human realm. The Collector stops this; Luz, her friends, and unfortunately Belos manage to escape to the human realm.

There, Belos goes around possessing and consuming various woodland creatures until he has enough sustenance to possess Hunter, one of his former second-in-commands.

This ultimately fails, which leads to him fleeing back to the Boiling Isles, where For the Future begins.

NOW LET'S TALLY UP OUR PARALLELS

WE GOT:

Horrifically misguided religious leader? Check.

Masked at some point? Yep.

Drains their closest followers and uses their bodies for their own gain? Yep.

Particularly brutally betrays their second in command?

OH YEAH.

Winds up sucked into that very spell themselves? Sorta.

Hyness intentionally sacrifices himself to the spell in order to resurrect Void Termina, whereas Belos is tricked by Luz into getting drained by the spell.

Not to mention we got the fuckin uhhhhh GODLIKE BEING WHO MIND CONTROLS FORCIBLY BEFRIENDS PEOPLE

This could be Void or Kirby paralleling the Collector depending on how you read it. However, Void and Kirby are definitely two sides of the same coin, and if my interpretation is correct, I believe The Collector is meant to be a parallel of BOTH. Neither good nor evil: simply raw power put in the hands of a child too young to comprehend or manage it.

-

Now I'll admit, TOH doesn't follow the KSA story tit for tat. I believe that Titan-trappers take the role of the people who sealed away the eldritch power. The placement of Galacta Knight vs the Titan as who fits in what role is harder determine.

Despite this, there are definitely some pretty solid inspirations.

The aesthetic of FTF very clearly draws inspiration from KSA. Hell, KSA was originally released in 2018, around the time Dana was developing the series. It's very likely she drew inspiration from this video game, if not played it herself. There are simply too many parallels to count.

[whump-a-la-mode]

this is such a general thing but defiant villain whumpee slowly breaking pls :)

Thank you so much for the ask!! I hope this is slow enough. It's not exactly the traditional whumpee breaking, but I hope it's interesting nonetheless! Feel free to send in another ask if you want something different ^^

CW//Talk of mass destruction, sleep deprivation torture, brief pet whump mention, forced to eat gross food

"It's over."

There was a weariness to the newscaster's voice-- the kind that those in the profession were never meant to display. The sheer essence of bone-deep exhaustion. A body squeezed dry of adrenaline, until fight or flight turned to fatigue.

But, the fight was won.

"For the last three days, we have been running twenty four hour coverage of the battle occurring downtown. The battle began when Villain's forces attempted to overrun an R&D lab, following the occupation of their original headquarters by our city's heroes.

The destruction has been uncountable. But, it's over.

After a final assault at three in the morning, today, the last of Villain's personal guard fled the stronghold, and were taken into captivity. An hour later, the menace themself was captured.

It's over.

What exactly will be done with Villain is unclear, but Leader has assured us that appropriate measures have been prepared for their secure containment.

As for us? At long last, goodnight Metropolis."

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"And good morning, sleepyhead."

Villain could not help but wince as light washed over them in a boiling wave-- the warmth of darkness torn away from them-- as the back doors of the truck were swung open.

"You're making the biggest mistake of your life." They snapped back, hoping the venom in their voice reached its recipient, standing at the truck's mouth.

Hero.

Of course, of all people, their welcoming committee had to be fucking Hero. The biggest asshat Metropolis had to offer. The worst, most stupidly noble, stupidly loyal, stupidly-

Their fury reached a boiling point to which enraged thoughts turned incoherent. It did not matter why they hated the idiot standing before them. It mattered only that anger alone made their veins feel as though they were overflowing with magma.

"Am I?" The noble fool cocked their head to the side, mocking and arrogant. "Or are you just upset that you've lost?"

"You think I've lost?" Villain let out a hearty chuckle. "All this effort, and you've caused me a minor setback, at most."

"Well, which one of us in the cage?"

They narrowed their eyes to slits. Hero was right. They were both staring through the bars of a cage, but Villain was very much the one contained. It was a tiny, steel construction. Large enough to stand up in, and take one step in each direction, but such was all.

Loaded into the back of a truck like some kind of zoo animal. They wanted to scream!

But, unlike the heroes, they could hold back.

"Me staying here to amuse you does not equate to defeat, Hero."

"Is that all you're doing? Humoring me?"

"Do you have any reason to believe otherwise?"

"Plenty." They smirked. "For one, sitting in the back of a truck for fourteen hours doesn't exactly seem like something you'd do to humor me."

Fourteen hours...

"Have you considered that I'm simply playing a long game?"

"It'll be the longest game of your life, then. Don't plan on getting out of here anytime soon. Or, y'know, ever. That's kind of the whole point."

"You really think you can hold me forever?"

"Oh, I know so. If you knew what was coming for you, you wouldn't be taking this so lightly."

"Oh, I'm so scared. What are you gonna do, give me a donut and tell me to hug this whole thing out?"

Hero chuckled, at that.

"Why don't you come and see for yourself?"

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"You're sure this will work?" Leader cocked a brow, hoping that the teeth marks in their lower lip weren't visible. It was a nervous habit, chewing like that.

"Certain." Scientist had a chipper tone to them-- a student having solved a math problem. "We've been developing this method for months. Trust me, they have no chance."

"None?"

"None. Even better, this technique is more than a simple containment method. It has a progressive weakening effect. Within a few months, they'll be like putty in your hand."

"You know we're talking about Villain here, right?"

"Precisely!"

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Villain had expected high security.

Of course they had. They'd quite frankly expected something ridiculous. A cell suspended over a pit of lava. Or a shark-infested pool. Or maybe they'd simply contain them through the power of sedatives.

None of the options sounded particularly enjoyable. But, all three sounded better than the room they stood in front of at that moment.

Six guards stood around them, each heavily armed, and not afraid to display this fact. Two stood on either side of them, each holding a chain attached to one of the twin manacles that adorned both their wrists-- they'd expected handcuffs, but two shackles per wrist seemed a little excessive. The two remaining guards stood with one in front and one behind. Their chains were those connected to Villain's feet. One tug, and they'd be face-first on the tile.

The restraints didn't make them want to flee any less. Not when they saw that room. Even chained as they were, they squirmed at the very sight of what stood before them.

It was rather large, though not ostentatiously so. Though, its size was accentuated by the complete lack of furniture lining the walls.

No. There were only two things inside the chamber.

The first stood at the center. A massive, metal ring, perhaps ten feet in height and the same in width. Four cylinders of the same material extended into the circle's center, looking terribly like hungry mouths.

One for each wrist, one for each ankle.

They were going to be splayed out like a bearskin carpet. Not to mention the vulnerability... With their limbs spread in every which direction, everything would be exposed. Their stomach, their back, their head. And they would be without a hope of retaliation.

It was a terrifying thought, but the elaborate restraint was nothing compared to the other thing inside the chamber.

Light.

There must have been a thousand of them. Shimmering, dazzling lights. On the ceiling, on the walls, some even on the floor.

It had not been since Villain's childhood that light had truly affected them. The manifestation of their abilities had coincided with the appearance of their acute sensitivity to the sun. Such was to be expected' a supernatural ability to move through places dark and shadowed, to control the shroud as though it were a thing rather than an absence did not exactly leave one looking forward to the sunrise.

Yet, they were not a vampire. Through gradual acclimation, they had learned to become comfortable with normal levels of light exposure. Spending a few hours under the sun's rays was not a problem, nor was existing within an indoor space, dominated by artificial lamps and LEDs.

But that room...

Villain could not take it. In desperation, they pulled, tugging on the restraints that dangled around them like tails. But, even they were no match for six men.

And, thus, they entered.

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"Now, I can see you weren't lying!"

The voice startled Villain, sent a jolt through their chest, but it did nothing to raise their head or open their eyes. Not immediately. Lifting their gaze was a task accomplished with a considerable amount of effort, and unveiling their eyes from their lids made their corneas feel to have been pierced by searing blades.

They could hardly see Hero, through the blazing lights.

"You really were trying to humor me. This is hilarious!"

It was with a terribly uncomfortable feeling that they felt fury overtake their fatigue.

"It's only been six days. I can play the long game."

"Is that why you've been hanging around?"

Though they tried, in their manacles, it proved impossible to ball their fists. The metal fit too closely around their fingers, contoured to not allow the slightest shadow of movement.

"Maybe it is, Hero. Maybe it is."

"Maybe." The Hero took a step forth, then another, until they were mere inches from their captive nemesis. "They've really done something here, huh? Ya' can hardly move an inch."

"There's a difference between not being able to and not wanting to."

"Is that so?"

Hero placed a chilled hand on their nemesis' side-- just above their hip, where their range of movement was the most limited by their splayed limbs.

Villain's heart leapt as they felt a tiny spark, jolting through their chest.

Suffering a direct blow from their nemesis was a fate they had only endured a handful of times. Now, there was nothing to protect them from it. Not even the adrenaline of battle.

"They say you're gonna give up, y'know." Hero trailed their hand, up and down Villain's taut skin. "I think they're betting on it, up in HQ. It's only a matter of time. We can all see you're getting weaker. Tired. You aren't great at hiding it."

"What I'm good at is acting."

"You're saying this is all an act? So you won't mind if I do... this?"

That time, the feeling was more of a spark.

Villain's scream echoed throughout the chamber, but there was no one to hear them but the light.

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"Hey! Get up. Can't you hear me?"

Of course Villain could hear Hero. They'd been hearing their stupid voice every single one of these last...

How many days had it been?

They couldn't remember. Too many.

"There's a difference between hearing and listening."

"I thought this whole breaking you thing would be more fun."

"I'm sorry that I'm not entertaining you."

"Nah, I don't think seeing you strung up like this will ever get old." Like a child, Hero laughed. "Anyways, I brought you some food. It's fish!"

Villain hated fish.

But, struggling would mean opening their eyes. Looking at the light.

And, thus, they ate.

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"Come on."

A sharp vibration rattled through the restraint frame, and, consequently, to the cores of Villain's bones. But, they did not move.

"I know you can hear me. So get up!"

Hero kicked the frame again, but received the same reaction.

"I thought you were playing the long game. I'm looking for some payoff, here. This new Villain is boring."

Maybe.

Maybe they were boring.

But they didn't have the energy to be anything else. Not anymore.

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"What did I tell you?" Scientist smirked. "Like putty in your hand!"

"I still don't understand how you did it." Leader shook their head. "The biggest threat to the city..."

"Oh, it was easy. They've got those weird dark powers, yeah? So they aren't hurt by the light. Not exactly. But, when there's lights on, they can't sleep! Not a wink. You could leave 'em outside and give 'em the keys to your own car, and they still wouldn't be able to escape."

"You really think so?"

"I know so. By the way, who won the betting pool?"

"Engineering department. They said three months, they were the closest. You're saying they haven't slept in three months?"

"Yep! There's not much left of the old Villain anymore, though. So... I mean, now, they can be whatever you want them to be. Do you have any ideas?"

"Hm..." Leader drummed their fingers against the wall. "I have always wanted a bodyguard."

"I thought you always wanted a dog."

"True, true."

"So... why not both?"

"You have a technique for that too?"

"Yep!"

[fictionalabyss]

Mated : Funkytown.

Pairings : Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader (mentioned), Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Word count : 2,793

Written for : @spnabobingo

Square : Fuck or die

Warning : Angst ahead! a/b/o dynamics, character death talked about, depression, sickness,  really bad heat, dying,  minor smut, claiming, guilt

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

Part 3 of Mated.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

It had been weeks since Dean had died. Weeks of misery and mourning. Alone.

Sam had been around just to tell you, a quick “Dean’s dead.” before he disappeared while you broke down. You hadn’t heard from him since. You shut down, shut the whole world out while you mourned the loss of your mate.

And then your heat hit.

With no mate to get you through it, you tried to do it on your own, but you were still in mourning, and it was a bad one. You’d never had a heat so painful. Three weeks after your mate died, you were bedridden, weak, barely able to move. You couldn’t even make it to the shower, let alone the kitchen. Everything hurt, everything ached and burned, sweat pouring out of every pore. All you could do was cry. Cry and beg for relief that wasn’t coming.

When you hit seven days in, with no end in sight, you couldn’t do it anymore, could barely even stay awake. You needed it to stop, needed help. With a shaking hand, you reached for your phone on the nightstand next to your bed and weakly hit a number you hadn’t called in a long time.

It went to voicemail.

“P-please.. Sam. I-” you couldn’t stop the tears. “I’m scared… I can’t- I need suppressants, or.. I don’t- I’m scared, Sam. I’m so scared. I-” you swallowed and said the only thing you could think to say, something Dean had told you would always have him come running home. “Funkytown.” The phone fell from your hand, too weak to hold it anymore, and you curled into a ball and cried.

When ringing the bell got him nowhere, he picked the lock far too easily. He was going to have to have a chat with you about that, about getting better locks. Sam pushed open the door and stepped inside. Before the door behind him even clicked shut, he knew something was wrong. Something was off. The house was dead silent, not a creak, like no one was home. He could still smell you, but it smelled… wrong.

He was running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, following the faint barely there smell to a thick bedroom door. He didn’t stop his stride, just opened the door and burst right in-

He froze when the smell hit him. It was you, but it was wrong, it was sick. The normally sweet smell of an omega in heat had turned sour. It was revolting. It smelt like death. If Sam hadn’t been used to the smells of corpses, burning or not from hunting, he’s sure he’d have lost his breakfast by now. “Jesus.” he mumbled, stepping closer to the bed you were curling up in. He could tell just by looking at you that you didn’t need suppressants, you needed a fucking doctor.

He scooped you up in his arms and you were nothing but dead weight, and yet, lighter than he expected, lighter than he’d remembered you being back in college when you’d drink too much and he’d piggy back you along the streets back to campus. You seemed to flinch at the feel of his skin on yours, but he could smell fresh slick and it smelt just as sickeningly wrong as the room. “Dean..” your voice was weak. His eyes shot down to your face, eyes fighting to open and losing.

“No, it’s me.” He answered as he carried you into the bathroom and lowered you into the tub before turning on the water.

“Sam?”

Your eyes finally managed to open and you were looking at him, so he gave you a small smile. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“You- you came..” you breathed it out like a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think..” you voice trailed off, eyes falling closed again.

“I’ll always come when you need me.” he told you even though he wasn’t sure you heard him until you weakly nodded.

You could feel warm water starting to pool around you, feel it wash over you as Sam splashed it over your skin to wipe away at the sweat that caked your skin. It hurt to feel him touching you, he wasn’t your mate, each brush of his skin on yours caused a fresh wave of pain, but at the same time, he was an Alpha, and you were in heat so it also brought on an ache in your core and more slick. You couldn’t fight either, you just slipped back into darkness as wet warmth surrounded you.

“When has she last eaten?”

You woke up hearing a man’s voice answering the question you had heard in a dream, and for a moment, hope filled you. But only for a moment. It wasn’t Dean, that wasn’t his voice, that wasn’t his scent. It was familiar, though. “I don’t know, she called me yesterday, left a voicemail crying, said she needed suppressants..”

“She needs her mate.” That was a voice you didn’t know, that was new. There was a stranger in your room. It took a bit of fighting, but you managed to get your eyes open to see someone leaning over you, poking and prodding, giving you a once over. The stethoscope around their neck was the dead giveaway. A doctor.

“He’s dead.” Sam answered from where he stood out of your line of sight.

“That explains it. First heat after the death?” Sam hummed. “It's always the worst. Some don’t survive it.” The doctor sighed and stood.

“What can you do for her?”

“Nothing.” The doctor looked towards your feet, his back going to you. “There’s nothing I can do, you asked for an Omega specifically. If you’d have asked for an Alpha-” Sam growled at that and the doctor ducked his head for a moment. “She needs her mate.”

“Like I said, he’s dead.”

“Then she needs a new one.” The room was quiet. “If you want her to live-”

“How long? How long does she have?”

You saw the doctor's shoulders shrug. “Honestly? I’d say if she doesn’t have a mate in about.. 24 hours, she’s not going to make it.” Sam cursed. “48 tops, and that’s really pushing it. Someone should have been called in sooner, she’s too far gone.”

“I would have if I had known.” Sam growled threateningly, and the doctor's hands went up.

“Look, getting her cleaned up and out of that room, that was good. But you need to get her to eat.”

“She can’t even fucking stay awake!”

“Exactly why she needs to eat. She’s got nothing in her system. Force her to, even if it’s just a soup broth. Don’t give her the choice.” Your eyes started to fall shut again, your lids too heavy to keep open. Thinking about it, if you had called Sam yesterday, it had to have been about 2 or 3 days since you’d been able to make it to your kitchen. That could not be helping things.

“You obviously don’t know her if you think she can be forced into anything.” Sam mumbled.

“Try. It’s that, or find someone to mate her and fast.”

Sam sighed. “She’d hate that even more.”

“Sadly, that’s all I’ve got for you.”

“Thanks anyways, doc.”

You heard movement, a zipper being closed and then “Good luck. I’ve got your number, I’ll call and check in tomorrow. Even though there’s not much I can do, I’d still-”

“Thanks, doc.”

Quiet followed the footsteps out of the room.

You shifted, and the pain brought you back to awake, curling in on yourself to try and relieve it. You weren’t sure how long had passed, days or hours, but judging by the sight of Sam when you opened your eyes, you’d say minutes. He was deep in thought, likely not having moved at all since the doctor left. His arms across his chest as he stared down at the floor, his ass settled on a dresser with his ankles crossed. He was nervously chewing on his bottom lip, something you can’t remember seeing him do before. Judging by the dark piece of furniture as well as the artwork on the wall behind him, you were in the spare bedroom.

“You’re really here.” Sam's head snaps up, eyes on you. “I thought I was dreaming it.. Am I really dying?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, closing your eyes again. “I need you to eat.”

You shook your head. “Not hungry.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I’m sorry for calling you.” you told him quietly.

“What?”

“You can go, you probably have more important things to do..”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he snapped, pushing off the dresser. “You fucking called me here, you said Funkytown knowing I’d come running. Now you want me to just leave? You’re dying.”

“You can’t save me, Sam. You can’t stop it.”

“You were scared. I came. I’m not leaving.”

“Would you just let me die in peace!?” you snapped, eyes opening to glare at him and he froze, the expression on his face changing.

“Why are you suddenly so eager to die?”

“Like I said, you can’t save me..” Sam watched you as you curled tighter into yourself with a whimper as another wave of pain hit, fresh slick  leaking from between your thighs. “And I’ll finally see him again.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Don’t-”

“It doesn’t fucking work like that!” Sam yelled, anger coming back as he stormed closer to the bed.

“JUST LET ME HAVE HOPE, SAM!”

“Fuck your hope!” he snapped. “Okay? And fuck you for calling me in just to tell me to leave. Do you really think you’re the only one missing him? He’s my fucking brother! He’s my blood! He’s all I had left! Him and you.” You closed your eyes again as tears began to fall. “You think if it was that simple I wouldn’t have just fucking ended it? He made a fucking deal.”

“So I’ll make one too, I’ll-”

“You can’t even get out of fucking bed.” Sam spat. “How the hell are you going to make it to a crossroads?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know! All I know is I can’t do this! I can’t live without him!”

“You didn’t even fucking try.”

“Just leave, Sam.”

“No. You know I won't, that's exactly why you called me. You’ve got other friends, other people to call, but you called me.”

“Because despite how you pretend I don’t exist, you were still my best friend.” Your eyes opened to look at him, meet his eyes and you hoped and prayed he could see all the pain you were carrying from losing Dean and him both. “I’m sorry I called you, okay. I’m sorry. Just let me go.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why!? I heard the doctor, Sam! I heard what it’ll take! 24 hours to find a new mate? You said it yourself I can’t even move!”

“I’m not going to leave you to suffer alone. I can make you comfortable, keep you company, I-”

“YOU’RE NOT STAYING TO WATCH ME DIE!” you screamed. “Not after you had to watch him die. I can’t do that to you. Please.”

Sam kneeled down next to your bed, bringing him closer, and he ran his fingers along tangled hair, just pushing it back, to sooth you more than anything else. “Then let me help you.”

“You can’t. I know you can’t.”

“I can.” Sam swallowed. “You won’t like it, but I can.” You shook your head, eyes squeezing shut at another wave of pain and slick. “You called me to help you. Let me help you.”

“Please stop- stop touching me. It hurts. It makes everything hurt.”

Sam leaned forward, his lips pressing to your sweaty forehead and you started to cry all over again. “I’m not leaving. Not without trying. I owe it to Dean.”

You shook your head as Sam got up, moving over you and settling between your thighs. “You’re not him.”  you cried before Sam’s lips pressed to yours, forcing a pained whine out of you. One of Sam’s forearms was pressed into the mattress, holding him up while his other hand worked at opening and freeing him from his jeans as his lips continued to move over your lips, jaw, and throat. “You’re not him.”

“Let me try.” the words whispered against your throat as you felt him move through your slick, tip of his cock sliding deliciously along your clit before he lined himself up. You never bothered with underwear while in heat, it was pointless and apparently Sam had figured the same when he re-dressed you after your bath.

He pushed forward, and you cried out, head going further into the pillows underneath it as your back arched off the bed. Your hands went to his shoulders, pushing, scratching, punching. You wanted to make him stop, it hurt so bad, he wasn't Dean, he wasn't your mate, but at the same time- he felt so fucking good buried deep inside you.

Sam gave slow and deliberate thrusts, and every thrust forward had you face twist in pain.  "Let me try." he asked once more against the side of your neck "I can't lose you, too. Let me try.". Your only response was your eyes closing and your fists no longer pummeling at him. I wasn't really much of an answer, but Sam understood.

It was common for a second mate to break the mark of the first with their own claim. But something in you couldn't let go, couldn't let it happen. When you felt Sam going for it, you stopped him. "Not there.. please.. anywhere but there. I-" you couldn't even begin to explain.  "Just… please.."

"Okay." He kissed your lips delicately, his own show of understanding before he tailed down to the other shoulder.

You relaxed a little against him, not fully though, every move he made still brought so much pain, but knowing Dean's mark would remain, that you would keep that reminder of him always, it was calming. Not many Alphas would grant that wish.

Suddenly, a scream ripped through you as his teeth sank deep into your skin. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer. Everything exploded, like you were suddenly alive again. The excruciating pain wasn't fully gone, but the pleasure-

Oh the pleasure. Sam's pace picked up, his thrust getting a little rougher and it felt so fucking good. As good as he felt hitting deep, the drag of him pulling back felt just as good and as your scream died down, a fresh gush of slick poured out as waves of an orgasm tore through you.

"There you are." Sam mumbled against the bite mark, taking a deep breath in. "There's the smell I love so much."

You tangled your fingers into his hair and pulled, bringing his face up to yours so you could look him in the eyes. They were beautiful. Not the bright green you had loved from Dean, but greens and browns in perfect harmony with each other. "Bring me back." You were begging, tears in your eyes as you looked into his. "I don't want to die."

"I know."

You were staring up at the ceiling, Sam snoring gently next to you. Two rounds before the pain of your heat finally started to feel more normal. You had sighed with relief when his knot had swelled and locked him in you, but now, in the quiet of the room with the post sex haze faded away, relief wasn't what you felt.

What you felt was guilt. Like you were betraying something or someone. Dean. Dean was dead and you were finding pleasure in his brother and you felt so much guilt. And weakness. You were too weak to live without him, too weak to deny Sam. Weeks. Not months, not years, weeks, and you were mated to his brother.

"I'm sorry." You whispered into the darkness of the room. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough." You rolled onto your side, your back towards Sam as you started to tear up. You couldn't let him see you crying, couldn't let him see the guilt. You didn't want it eating at him as well.

But it was like he knew, like he just knew you needed comfort, because he rolled over, putting his chest to your back as he wrapped an arm around your waist and held you close.

You tried to let his warmth wash over you, tried to remember how bad you had wanted this year's ago. You had it now, you had Sam.

But even as Sam's mark burned hot on your skin, a part of you just really wanted Dean back.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Dean - @akshi8278  @adoptdontshoppets   @evyiione @karikatz12481 @idksupernatural  @deandreamernp

Sam -  @evyiione  @hoboal87

SPN -  @sandlee44  @just-another-busy-fangirl  @mrswhozeewhatsis   @deanandsamsbitch  @deans-baby-momma  @thebescht @67-chevy-baby @supraveng   @musiclovinchic93 @holyfuckloueh  @ksgeekgirl   @hobby27 @maddiepants  @roxyspearing @onethirstyunicorn    @fandom-princess-forevermore     @kalesrebellion   @deanwanddamons   @thoughts-and-funnies

All tags - @sorenmarie87 @artemisthebadger @winchesterprincessbride @iflostreturntosteverogers @akfonkin @rebelminxy @foxyjwls007 @onethirstyunicorn @shaelyn102 @supernaturalenchanted  @kazkingdom   @babypink224221  @emoryhemsworth    @ilovefanfic86 ��@pie-with-hunters   @anaelsbrunette @lazinessisalliknow  @feelmyroarrrr  @letsdisneythings​   @cdwmtjb8​   @notyourtypicalrose​  @xostephanie​ @ilovedeanspie​ @defenderrosetyler​ @amandamdiehl​

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 3]

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Once again, transformation AU by @we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy, I’m just making a fic with it! (Going to try to wrap this series tomorrow; we’ll see if I can keep up the pace). Mutual pining + Chilton having trust issues. 

2,160 words

The door opened a crack, and Dr. Chilton’s eyes appeared, searching up and down the hallway. Your pulse quickened. Finally, you were going to get answers—some logical explanation for what you’d seen last night. At least you could show him support this time instead of leaving him trembling in the dark.

He seemed to be human again. You found yourself checking and rechecking the texture of his skin for lingering signs of spikes and swirling darkness. A chill ran down your spine at his proximity, like it did when you saw a spider. You wished it wouldn’t. You didn’t want to be afraid of spiders. You didn’t want to be afraid of him.

Finding the coast clear, Chilton opened the door another few inches and stepped out wearing your grey hoodie and sweatpants. His hair was a mess, the hood pulled down to hide it.

“I cannot be seen this way. If you need me, I shall be at home. You have my personal number. Please call Nightengale Restorations and have them fix the office. Tell them I will pay a fifteen percent bonus for having it done this week,” he prattled in his professional tone as if this were just another workplace matter. He walked away, a slight hitch to his swift gait, but turned after three steps and met your eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

***

There was no confrontation after that. Dr. Chilton resumed work the next day, and things simply went back to normal. That is to say: awkward silences, reading novels into every word, and the simmering tension of pretending everything was normal when, in fact, nothing had been resolved.

Questions burned in your eyes, but fear restrained your tongue. The answers would only make you more afraid, and so Chilton did not volunteer them.

You didn’t run away, but you didn’t ask, either. Chilton was satisfied that you were just as in denial as he was.

The daily routine went on exactly as it used to: you would arrive at 7:30 am, knock at his office door, hand him a coffee, and take the file of paperwork he wanted done that day. Only there was hesitation in your knock, and you waited for him to say, “Enter,” instead of sauntering in like you owned the place. He had you put the coffee down on his desk so you would not risk brushing his fingertips as you sometimes did. When you took the file, you stared at him like he might bite.

“That will be all,” he said, dismissing you before your stoic mask faltered and you showed your true disgust.

***

Chilton’s skin crawled beneath his suit from his arms to his feet, and his scar throbbed for the first time in weeks. Having Abel Gideon back under his care was disconcerting, but a necessary part of Will Graham’s therapy—or rather, another clue in the case Graham was building against Hannibal Lecter.

He was skeptical at first. Graham was a lunatic—a sociopathic manipulator. Delusional. Yet, even a sociopath could not fabricate such elaborate lies with that much sodium amytal running through his veins.

The nightmares would be worth it when he was the man famous for bringing down the Chesapeake Ripper.

“Hey.”

Chilton looked up, eyes rimmed with red from hours of staring at a computer screen, working late yet again. You held up a bag of takeout, a weak smile on your lips.

“Need a break?” you offered, moving to sit across from him at his desk. Everything in the office was tidied up—you had cleaned most of it yourself the day Chilton went home in your sweatpants. The damage wasn’t as bad as it looked. Most of the furniture was simply overturned, not broken. Only the antique in-wall shelving waited for professional repair.

“No. Thank you,” he said, waving away the food. His lips thinned wanly. “You may help yourself if you like.”

He was equally surprised and suspicious when you stayed, unpacking the container of vegetarian pesto tortellini. He watched hungrily as you lanced one with a plastic fork and brought it to your lips. His stomach growled.

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, straightening defensively in his seat.

“With Gideon here. That must be difficult.”

“I manage.”

You chewed another pasta in silence. Finally, he couldn’t help it and grabbed the second fork, stealing a tortellini off your platter. It was rich and flavorful—a bit heavy on the salt, but obviously from a fine restaurant. He held the bite in his mouth. No strange aftertastes. He did not feel woozy after swallowing. There was always a chance you were willing to drug yourself to get to him if you had an accomplice waiting to spirit him away to some secret facility.

“All right,” he snapped, chair shooting back toward the wall as he stood. “What are you after?”

You gave a startled “Mmph?” around a mouthful of pesto.

“What is the catch? A price for your silence? Why are you here, bribing me with dinner?”

“I… I’m not—what? I was worried about you.”

“Unlikely, considering the circumstances. Tell me what you want.” His eyes locked onto you, cold and piercing.

“Fine!” you broke. “I want you to forgive me!”

“For what?” he sneered, half believing your words were a veiled threat.

“I’m sorry, OK? Please—what can I do to make up for it? I tried giving you space, but now you look at me like I’m going to kick you, or”—your eyes widened at the plate of food he only touched after you ate some—“poison you! I swear I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” he asked in an entirely softer tone. He sat back down, hunching forward across the desk to search your face.

Your head hung low, and you murmured quietly, “I know I didn’t handle it well. I should have left when you asked. Now I understand… you didn’t want anybody to see that. I invaded your privacy. And then I freaked out!” Your voice broke. “And I’ve been trying to… to make up for it. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but—dammit, I’m pushing you again! Sorry.”

The urge to hug you overwhelmed him. If there wasn’t a deliberately massive table in between you—meant to keep others at a distance—he would have hugged you.

“Are you not afraid?” For once, the broadness of his desk seemed obtrusive.

“I could never be afraid of you.”

Your arm crossed the divide, reaching for his hand. It touched, warm and easy, and gave a sympathetic squeeze that set his blood racing. Then it retracted, and his skin ached for the lost contact.

“I just got scared because I didn’t understand what was happening. I still don’t. Maybe I am still afraid, a little. But not because—! Please, just… tell me what that was. What happened to you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Eyes narrowing, he answered cagily, “First, what do you think you saw? Light can play tricks on the eye, especially after long hours in a morbid environment, possible exposure to hypnotic drugs… Let us be sure we are on the same page.”

“Are you seriously going to gaslight me now that we’re finally talking? I’m not an idiot. You still owe me those pants back!”

While he floundered for words, your eyes squeezed shut, and a hissing laugh burst from your nose. A red flush crept up his neck, under his shirt collar. It was inappropriate to laugh in this situation, but perhaps that was why it was so contagious—it had been too long since he’d seen you laugh, and even longer since he’d done so himself.

“Those cheap, scratchy, torture devices? Consider it a favor that I tossed them,” he quipped. (Forget the fact that he had been sleeping with his face buried in them for the past week and simply did not wish to return them before wringing them for every drop of your scent.)

“And yet you wore them, which means I saved your ass. Checkmate, doctor.”

“Please. It is barely a Vienna Gambit.”

Laughter felt foreign in his throat. It was soft, and only lasted a brief second, but it was cleansing. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, and his soul lifted.

“Very well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Ask your questions.”

Your eyes darted to the windows. Another late night. Stars appeared (the handful not blotted out by Baltimore’s light pollution). You chewed your bottom lip.

“Are you going to transform again?”

“Only on the night of the new moon, when twilight gives way to the black of night. No need to worry.”

“Just once a month, then? Werewolf rules?”

He shot an offended glare, though you weren’t wrong. “Sometimes two, near the aphelion. And during an eclipse. It… hates sunlight. Even the reflection of the sun. It wants to be in darkness.” The thought disturbed him—the way the beast called him to the shadows. He always fought it to stay indoors, locking himself away from any nocturnal roving. It frightened him what might happen if he gave in. The coppery taste of blood haunted his dreams.

“Then… would you transform if you went spelunking? You know, in a cave? Or a submarine?”

“I have not tried. A darkened room is not enough. I would not tempt it.”

You swallowed and thought. Your lips twitched, building to the important question: “Is it still you in there?”

“Yes. More impulsive—I would never have smashed the decor—but I am still there.” It brings my true self to the surface, he thought, but withheld this. A slimy, dangerous, unlovable wretch. He looked at you, sitting across from him in front of a container of food you brought to share, and wondered what you were doing there after seeing it. How could you bear to be near him?

“But you’re not going to… eat me or something?” You were embarrassed to ask, and he gave you a fittingly scathing glare.

“No. I would not eat you.” He stabbed a tortellini and popped it in his mouth.

“Then I want to see it.”

He choked.

“I want to get a better look. To wrap my head around it. Besides, it seemed painful—next time I could bring you a hot towel, or… a cold pack, or… I don’t know, some tea? An ibuprofen?”

“There is no next time. You were never supposed to see that in the first place.”

“Please? If it’s going to happen again in two weeks, I want to be there. Prepared this time.”

“This is not a zoo. I am not some freak show to be gawked at! What happened to you being sorry?”

“I just want to get to know you,” you answered, and your voice sounded so small his heart reeled. You snapped your head up, “I mean—I want to be there for you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

He scoffed, defensive again. “Why? Because I might do something dangerous? I am more than capable of controlling myself.”

“Because you deserve to be comforted when you’re in pain.”

Your words struck him like a nuclear bomb of basic human decency. Deserved? Comfort?

“Does anyone else know? Does anyone… take care of you when you change?”

Only his family knew, and they certainly did not take care of him. Bringing him that bag of clothing in the morning was the first time anyone had done something thoughtful for him—helped him with his condition. Even if you had run away at first, you wanted to be supportive. To know his dark side.

Why?

Was it possible? Did you feel the same way about him as he did about you? His hand still felt warm from where you had briefly touched it.

He had to admit, it was nice having someone be there for him. Even a small gesture like old, loose-fitting sweatpants in a bag made a world of difference. Or dinner at his desk. He imagined you pressing a steamed towel to his forehead, and he did not hate the idea—doting on him like a spa therapist, taking the edge off the pain as his hair fell out and skin split open. Or watching him become hideous. Vomiting at the sight of him. Losing all interest you might have had. Realizing it was a mistake to be there.

“Thank you for dinner,” he announced in curt, clipped syllables. “That will be all.”

“Frederick…” Your voice was low, personal. Pleading. He did not like how personal it was. How you were giving him everything he wanted, like you were baiting a trap.

“Fascinating as this must be for you, I still have work to do. Your shift ended an hour ago. Go home.”

“OK. Right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You didn’t see him trembling as you left, clutching his hand over his fluttering heart.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Taglist: @beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​

[libraryofloveletters]

passing ships

Evan Buckley x Eddie Diaz

Warnings: nothing, just being being idiots really 

Category: Angst 

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Buck’s return after the lawsuit 

AO3 Link 

----

Silence. 

No bickering, no fighting and no stupid jokes. 

Pure deafening silence. 

The two were no longer speaking, although they had the clear to- he couldn't bring himself to forgive him, not yet and truthfully he didn’t know if he would ever be able to forgive him. 

After what he put the team through, what he caused them and what he did to them- to their relationship. 

Buck and Eddie sat on opposite ends of the station, the blond on the couch and the brunette in the kitchen. Both glancing at the other when the other isn’t looking, hoping they’d think of something to say to each other. 

Everyone can feel the tension, it hits whoever enters their vicinity like a brick wall. 

Eddie blew up at Buck the day in the grocery store and since then, neither of them had spoken to the other unless they were in the field. They worked seamlessly there. Wordless communication, in-sync as always yet the moment they step off the truck, all of that goes out the window and they go separate ways. 

Buck came close to talking to him one day while unpacking the halloween decoration. Eddie had walked past him, the urge to call for him and tell him that he was sorry but he didn’t. 

A part of him knew that Eddie would forgive him but another part of him felt that Eddie would still hold it against him somehow.

Buck didn’t know Eddie as well as he thought he did. 

Eddie’s pace was much slower than normal as he passed by, his heart pounding in his chest just waiting for Buck to call out to him and to fix what had broken but he didn’t. 

---- 

“Dad?” the boy called from the kitchen table, his father’s back to him.

Eddie was washing dishes, the sponge in his hand and the tap running but his eyes were fixated on something outside the window. Christopher gets up and walks over to his father, turning off the tap then Eddie looks down. “Oh sorry bud, did you ask me something?” he puts the sponge down and turns to his son. 

The look on Christopher’s face was enough for Eddie to internally groan, not because of Chris but because of what he was about to ask. 

“Where’s Buck?” 

And there it was. 

“Buck’s been busy bud” Eddie tells his son. This wasn't a complete lie, from the overheard conversations in the station, it seemed like Buck had been busy. 

“When is he coming over? We were supposed to have movie night” Chris sounded sad. Eddie knows how much Chris loves and looks up to Buck and for him not to be around was killing him.. because of Christopher of course. 

“I’ll ask him tomorrow,” Eddie leans and kisses the top of the boy’s head. 

“Bed now, I’ll come tuck you in, in a minute” Eddie smiles until he can no longer see Chris then a heavy sigh is let out. Chris isn’t the only one that misses Buck. 

He did too. 

Regardless of what had happened, Buck had been his best friend for the last year and a half. The person he confided in, the one who had his back and most importantly, the guy who was basically raising Christopher with him. It had been so hard not being able to talk to him those few weeks that the lawsuit was happening and now that they can talk, he doesn’t know what to say. 

Where do you begin after that ? 

What you did was fucked up and I hate you but I don’t because I actually love you and I need you in my life. 

Yeah, there was no way he was going to say that to Buck. The thought of Buck was pushed back when Chris shouted that he was waiting. He shook the worry from his face, mustering up a smile as he stepped into Chris’s room. 

“Alright kiddo, bedtime” Eddie pulls the blanket over his son, sitting on the bed beside him now. Chris looks up at his dad, “are you okay?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s brows furrow, unsure as to what brought up the question.

“Are you okay?” he asks his father again. 

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” he chuckles, his hand patting Christopher’s leg. 

“Okay” Chris smiles at his father, deep down he knew something was wrong and Eddie knew that his son knew that he wasn't okay but there wasn't time for that now. Eddie held himself together, he only had him and he had to be strong.

Eddie kisses Chris’s cheek, tucking the sides of the blanket in and turning on his night light. “Goodnight bud” he smiles from the doorway, about to shut the door. Chris calls out for his father once more and Eddie sticks his head back into the room, looking at Chris. 

“I love you” he says from bed. 

Eddie smiles, “I love you too.” the door shuts and his smile falls from his face. 

How much longer would he have to keep up this facade? 

When and how would they fix things? 

Because no part of Eddie wants to explain to Christopher why Buck isn't around anymore and honestly, Eddie doesn't want to lose him but he lacked the words to tell him exactly how he felt.

His room feels cold and empty, it usually is but this time feels like the house is running out of happiness and warmth and there’s nothing he could do to fix it. 

As he lays on his bed, his phone lights up. A notification from Chim, asking if he could help him move some furniture around. He answers and then he stares at the phone in his hand. 

“l’ll ask him tomorrow” his words rang in his head. He hits Buck’s contact- what to say and how to say it. 

To Buck: Are you free Saturday ? Chris wants to see you. 

Less than a minute goes by before his phone chimes. 

From Buck: I am. What time is okay for me to come over?

From Buck: Should I bring anything ? 

To Buck: I’ll drop him off at your place. I have something to do. 

From Buck: Okay. Is 6 okay ? 

To Buck: Fine. 

It was utter bullshit and they both knew that. Eddie had absolute nothing to do, in fact he was probably gonna go back home and hang out. It’ll be weird for him to be there when they aren’t speaking, hence why he's taking Chris to Buck and not letting him come to them because if they were at home, there would be nowhere for Eddie to avoid him. 

---- 

“Buck!” The little boy’s face lights up when he opens the door. 

“Chris!” Buck smiles with the same happy energy. The two of them hugging for a moment before Chris turns to say bye to Eddie. 

“Be good mijo, I'll be back later” Eddie kisses the top of his head before he walks off into the apartment. 

Buck looked at Eddie, his brows furrowed and he was chewing on his lip without even noticing. “You- You’re not coming in?” Buck asks quietly, his words barely coming out. 

Eddie shakes his head, “got stuff to do, text me when he’s ready to come home.” he hands Chris’s backpack over to him and turns the other way and down the hall. Buck steps out of the apartment, in the hallway in front of his door and he just watches Eddie leave. He wanted to run after him and tell him that he’s sorry but he doesn’t. 

The afternoon went by rather quickly, Buck and Chris catching up on what Chris had been doing at school, they began playing the new game Buck had gotten and they had pizza for dinner and ate on the couch while watching the sonic the hedgehog movie because Buck promised him that they would watch together.

Chris sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the tv screen until the end credits began rolling, then he yawns and sinks back into the pillows on Buck’s couch. 

“Tired?” Buck looks over at Chris who gives him a sleepy smile and nods. 

To Eddie: Chris is falling asleep, I think it’s time for him to get to bed

From Eddie: Ask him if he wants to spend the night. There are clothes in his bag

Buck was taken back by the message, not by Eddie suggesting that Chris spend the night because the 3 of them had sleepovers on a regular basis when he and Eddie were speaking but that Eddie was allowing him to stay. He assumed that because they weren't speaking that Eddie would want Chris to come home. 

“Bud, do you want to stay over? Dad said it’s cool” 

“Mhm, yeah” Chris’s eyes were shut, he was already halfway to dreamland by now. Buck smiled at the boy. 

To Eddie: He just fell asleep, you can pick him up around noon ? 

From Eddie: Okay

---- 

Saturday at 11:58am and Buck is dancing around his kitchen with a glass of orange juice in his hand. Chris had slept in and he made him breakfast. Buck was on his way to handing Chris the juice but he got caught up in the song that was playing. 

Christopher sat at the counter, laughing as Buck danced. Buck was slowly but surely making his way over when there was a knock at the door. He sat the juice beside the plate, pressed a kiss to Chris’s head and shouted that he was coming when the person knocked a second time. 

He pulled the door open, Eddie stood at the door with his arms folded. 

Buck gave him a small smile, “at ease soldier” he said jokingly, the joke had delivered and failed all in one, the smile on his face dropped too. 

“Is he ready?” Eddie looked at him, Buck stepped back so Eddie could see in. Chris was still sitting at the counter eating his breakfast, he smiled and waved when he noticed his dad at the door. 

“Do you want to come in?” Buck’s eyes silently pleading for him to accept the offer. 

“Sure” the one word was all he got from Eddie for the next 20 minutes. 

He spoke to Christopher and waited for his son to finish eating so they could leave. The tension in the apartment was heavy and uncomfortable, Eddie egging Chris to finish up every 5 minutes so they could get out of there. 

Buck had opened his mouth to speak multiple times, at this point there was nothing more that he wanted more than for Eddie to forgive him. 

The way his heart clenched in his chest whenever he saw Eddie or had to work with him wasn't normal. 

The way he smiled lovingly and stared adoringly at him wasn't normal either because friends don’t look at friends that way. 

Buck loved Eddie more than the average friend. He didn’t know if Eddie reciprocated those feelings but now he’d never know. 

“Bye Buck!” Chris’s arms wrapped around Buck snapping him out of his thoughts, his hand reaching down to rub his back softly. “Bye bud, thanks for hanging out with me” he smiles sweetly at the boy before looking at his father who was already waiting by the door with his bag. 

Buck walks Chris over to the door, they share one more hug before he steps out. Once again, Buck finds himself in the hallway wanting to go after them- after Eddie- but it’s like he’s frozen in time, he can’t bring himself to move towards them. Christopher smiles and waves before he steps on the elevator and Eddie, he just looks at him. Opening his mouth like he was going to say something but instead a sigh comes out, his gaze lowers and he joins Chris. 

It was a while before Buck heard from Eddie again. Usually, he would have texted to let him know that they got home and were okay but instead radio silence for the next 6 and a half hours. 

His phone chimes, rolling over and grabbing it off the table, there’s a notification from Eddie. 

To Buck: Thanks for last night, he had a good time 

From Buck: Thanks for bringing him over, I didn’t realize how much I missed him

To Buck: He missed you too

Buck was about to type a response when the little grey dots appeared, disappeared and reappeared. He waited, looking down at the phone in his hands watching as the dots appeared and disappeared. At some point, Buck put the phone down, he got tired of waiting. 

On the other side of the screen, Eddie sat on his couch with the phone in his hand. His last message to Buck telling him that Christopher missed him and he quickly typed out I missed you too but his finger hovered over the send button. Now reaching for the delete key, erasing the message. Eddie tried a few versions of that message. 

To Buck: I missed you so much you don’t even understand 

That one didn’t sound like him and made him seem desperate. 

To Buck: Chris wasn’t the only one that missed you 

What was he trying to do? Flirt with him? well.. maybe but this is not the time. 

To Buck: Come over, let’s talk 

Yeah if let’s talk is code for we’re probably gonna end up in bed. 

To Buck: I don't know what I want to say but I need you here, things aren't the same without you. 

This one felt right because it was the truth. Eddie had absolutely no idea what he wanted to say to Buck or if he would even say anything to him but he needed him. Things aren’t the same without Buck around, home didn’t feel like home without him. 

Finger hovering over the button but he deletes the message, the phone getting tossed to the other side of the couch before getting up to check on Chris. 

----

The men find themselves in this situation rather often. Eddie texts Buck asking when Chris can see him, Eddie drops off Chris or sometimes Buck picks him up and then when Chris comes home, Eddie texts Buck to say thanks.

Sometimes Buck is the one watching the little grey dots appear and disappear but sometimes Eddie is the one who finds himself in that spot. 

It was as if they were two parents sharing joint custody of their son and having that awkwardness of what to say when the kid isn't around and honestly, that was exactly their situation. They played nice and spoke the bare minimum when Chris was around or if Chris had a school event and asked for them both to be there, they would both be there with their best smiles on and they'd make small talk with the other parents but the moment they stepped back out of that building, all of that went out the window. 

Without Chris around, their conversations were nonexistent. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and they turned into passing ships in the night. 

--- 

taglist: @mrs-dr-reid​ @yelenabelous​ @ickletheficklepickle​ @dralexreid​ @imaginebuck (cause you wanted some buddie angst)

[kaznejis]

Vignettes- Marco Peña x reader

Anonymous asked: just some like cute fluff with marco, maybe like different stages of your relationship. like first date, kiss, first time, just cute lil fluff like that.

Anonymous asked: I feel like you’re one of the few people who write Marco x readers that I love, so can I request your typical how you meet, first kiss etc imagines xx

A/N: Thanks for sending these in, I decided to get through two requests with this one. Sorry that I haven’t posted anything in the last week or so, I’ve been away but I am at home now and promise to be much more active! For those who have sent in a request, expect to see it on here sometime soon. :) 

Also, I gave your parents names in order to make the story flow much better- if those are your parents names then lucky for you, haha!

Feel free to send in any requests!

Vignette- A brief evocative description, account or episode

i. 

“Hey Y/N, grab one of these boxes for me?”

“Sure thing, Dad.” You wiped dust from your hands as you hauled another box that was stacked before the now-empty moving truck. 

“Thanks,” He grinned from the doorway, wiping the sweat that clung to his forehead as he did, “Once you’ve moved that into the kitchen I have some bad news for you.”

“Okay,” You spoke slowly, blowing a hair from your face as you deposited the (admittedly heavy) box onto the kitchen floor before joining your dad in the hallway, “What’s up?”

“Your mother contacted some nearby families before we came here; long story short we are eating dinner with one of them tonight.”

“You’re kidding?” You groaned, running a hand through your messy hair as you pictured the state of your appearance. 

“You’ll have time to fix yourself up,” Rolling his eyes, your dad had practically read your mind, “Think about it, we don’t even have furniture right now let alone food.”

“True,” You sighed, “When are we going?”

“Six.”

“Wait-” You spun to stare grab your phone and check the time, “That’s in two hours!?”

“Better get moving.” Your dad laughed as you sped up the stairs toward the bathroom. 

-

Luckily, you did manage to get ready in time and at 5:52 your family stood on the porch of a large house only a few blocks from yours. Shifting the bottle of champagne that served as a piece offering into the crook of your arm as you moved to knock on the door, the three of you twitched nervously in anticipation.

Eventually the door swung open and light flooded the porch that had been previously lit by a few dim garden-lights. A thin, dark-haired woman stood on the other side of it- a bright smile adorning her features. 

“Welcome,” She laughed, beckoning you all inside, “It’s freezing out here. Come in, come in!”

“Thankyou so much for having us,” Your mum smiled as she took the bottle from you and offered it towards the woman, “We don’t really have anything to cook with but I hoped that this would be enough.”

“oooh Anna, thankyou very much,” She placed the bottle down and pulled your mother into a tight hug- doing so caused her to spot you and your father loitering awkwardly in the hallway, “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Laurel, Laurel Pena.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Chris” Your father stepped forward, engaging in a side-hug with Laurel before gesturing towards you, “And this is our daughter Y/N” You smiled awkwardly and gave a timid wave. 

“Y/N! Your mother has told me so much about you, come here and give me a hug.” She did so, the hug was warm and comforting- washing away any awkwardness you had originally felt, “Now, let’s go meet the rest of the family.”

Turning down the hallway, Laurel led the three of you towards what was presumably the dining room- noise and light erupted from the room as the activity of a family preparing for dinner bustled from it. Smiling reassuringly, Laurel turned into the room and at the sight of guests the family paused- each member turning toward you. 

“The guests have arrived.” Laurel cheered, throwing her arms in the air as the whole family erupted into greeting. Laurel quickly jumped to introduce the each of you to the other family and vice versa. As she moved around the table, you noticed a boy around the same age as you watching you, a small smirk on his face. Chewing on your lip in an attempt to calm the nerves the gaze penetrating the side of your face caused, you willed the eruptions of want that sunk into your spine to stop. 

Eventually, Laurel placed her hands on the back of the boys chair, “...and this is my son, Marco.” She ruffled his hair before turning to the seat beside him. “I noted that the two of you are the same age so I thought that it would be great that you sit beside him Y/N.”

Cocking his head to the side, Marco stared at you as he awaited your reaction. You simply bit your tongue and let out a harsh outtake of breath in an attempt to steady your voice, “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

“Great!” Laurel then moved to show your parents to their seats, “Now, I will go and get the last of the food- everyone feel free to tuck in!” 

Lowering yourself into the chair hesitantly. you watched as the table began digging into the copious amount of food that littered the table upon different variations of plates and bowls. Marco reached for a dish before him, causing the toned muscles of his arms to flex beneath the short-sleeved shirt that he wore. Turning the skirt of your dress between your fingers and swallowing harshly, you composed yourself before turning to fill your plate with the food that surrounds you. 

“She always goes all out whenever we have guests.”

“Hm?” You hummed, turning towards the voice beside you as you hadn’t quite heard what he said. 

“My mother,” He smiled fondly, which was a really good look on him, “She always goes all out with the food- we usually have about a quarter of this during normal meals.”

You spluttered out a laugh, reaching to cover your mouth as he grinned at you in triumph, “Well, I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” He snorted around a mouthful of food, “She hasn’t spent that much time cooking in months.” At that, you both continued to converse throughout the night as you both became familiar with each other. You and Marco shared a number of interests and you weren’t going to lie about the fact that you had originally found him extremely attractive anyway- these factors only deepened the feelings you already felt towards Marco. 

Apparently, Marco had felt exactly the same. 

As the night came to a close and everybody had separated to different rooms in the house, Marco had pulled you aside and asked the question that would start everything, “Would you consider going out with me sometime?”

ii.

You said Yes, of course.

Though the date didn’t end up happening until a few weeks later- you needed time to settle into the new house and become familiar with the local area. 

You vividly remembered Marco’s grin when you had gone over to his house and told him that you were ready for the date he had promised you. He had bounded around like an excited puppy, pulling you into a joy-filled hug as his arms squeezed your sides. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 11,” He had beamed, staring down at you as he slowly pulled his arms from around you, “I can’t wait.”

It was now ‘tomorrow’ and you anxiously waited beside your window- every time a car pulled up you would jump in anticipation, even if it was approximately an hour before Marco had arranged to pick you up. Chewing on your nails, you moved away from the window and walked over to the mirror in order to check over your appearance; continuing the cycle you had been performing over the last hour or so. 

Just as you begun to settle the nerves that flooded your mind, a car horn sounded from outside the house. Speeding back to your window, you set your gaze upon Marco who was moving to lean against his car. Taking a deep intake of breath and patting down your summer dress one last time, you left your room and headed towards the door. 

“Wow!” Marco exclaimed as soon as you stepped down from the entrance to the house, “You look beautiful.”

You laughed, feeling a heated hue of colour filling your cheeks, “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

You weren’t wrong, Marco wore an unbuttoned plait shirt paired with a black top and ripped jeans- he didn’t look too bad; he looked hot. Marco just shrugged his shoulders and opened the passenger door for you, a content grin on his face. 

“So what actually are we doing today?” You inquired as you slid into the seat, looking over at Marco as he shut the drivers side door behind him. 

“I was going to keep it a secret,” He laughed as he manoeuvred the car out onto the road, “But it’s nothing too big, I thought it would be fun to go bowling and then grab something to eat.”

“Bowling?” You giggled childishly, “I haven’t been bowling in years.”

“Well then,” He grinned at the sound of your laughter, “There’s a pretty high chance that I’ll beat you.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed, shoving him softly (mindful of the fact that he was driving), “That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m bad at it.”

“Well then we’ll just have to see how it goes.”

“Game on.”

-

In the end, Marco did win the game. It turned out that bowling was a regular for Marco’s family- meaning he had years of experience against your lack of.

After your pathetic defeat, you sat together in a booth within the restaurant that was connected to the bowling complex- each with a burger and a shared plate of curly fries. 

“You know what Marco,” You swallowed the abundance of greasy food in order to speak easily, “I had fun today.”

“You did?” He smiled widely, staring at you intently, “Well, I did too.”

“Well I mean, you did plan the date.”

He continued to stare at you for a beat. as if he was contemplating- then once his mind was apparently made up; he smacked a salt-covered kiss to your cheek, “Whatever.” He mumbled cheekily after doing so. 

You grinned shyly at Marco, bringing your hand up to brush the area of your cheek that he had kissed, “Ew- You got sauce on my cheek.” Marco broke into a howling laugh that practically crippled his body as you scrubbed at your cheek. 

“You’re so cute.” He huffed out as he recovered from his laugh. 

“Whatever.” You echoed, twisting your lips bashfully. 

“Go out with me again.”

“Slow your roll,” You sipped your drink and winked, “We have to finish this date first.”

iii.

One date turned into two...and eventually three. 

Over the two months in which you had now known Marco- you had grown to harbour some intense feelings for the guy. The two of you were in constant contact between dates; texting and calling until the early hours of the morning or simply falling asleep together on facetime. You were adamant that he shared these feelings- giving you the confidence you needed for what you were about to do. 

With an arm curled around your shoulder, Marco was walking you home after offering to do so as soon as the movie you had attended came to a close- therefore giving you the opportunity to, well, kiss him. 

It had been due to happen since that moment during the first date when Marco had lunged over and smacked a kiss to your cheek- the two of you had been stuck in a limbo of whether or not one of you should make the move. This usually resulted in the end of dates closing on an awkward hug or another cheek kiss. 

You were sick of it and taking this much needed step was very much necessary. 

“-I just think that the main character should of made a much better choice, do you agree?” Your prolonged train of thought had taken place whilst Marco had gone on a rant about the main protagonist’s moral choices from the cheap, indie movie you had just viewed. 

“Yeah,” You grinned up at him as his hands trailed patterns upon your shoulder blades, “I agree.”

“You weren’t listening, were you?” He laughed, though he didn’t seem to be offended nor surprised. 

“Sorry,” You snorted out a laugh as he ruffled your hair, “I was trying to listen to you I swear.”

“Well, as long as you tried.” He grinned down at you, moving to encircle his hands around your waist as you came to a stop beneath a fluorescent street-light. 

This was it, you thought, as you stared up at Marco’s lips from beneath your lashes under the glow of the light. 

Though, it seemed that Marco had been thinking about the same thing. Before you could even begin to lean upward he brought his hand up to cradle your chin with his thumb and forefinger, “Can I?”

You huffed out a soft laugh. “You don’t even have to ask.” And before another word can be uttered, you both met each other in the middle and connected your lips into a slow, sipping kiss that made your heart speed up and your knees weaken. 

Eventually the two of you had to pull away for air, as you did so Marco smiled down at you sweetly- with a slight smug look to it, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

You just smiled bashfully up at him, chewing on your slightly-swollen lip lightly, “Me too.”

“Hey,” Marco spoke, throwing his arm back over your shoulder as you set back onto the path, “Does this mean we’re together now?”

“That’s your way of asking?”

“Yep.”

“Alright,” You giggled, tucking yourself into his side, “Sure, we’re together now.”

iv.

“Are you 100 percent positive that you want to do this?” Marco asked sincerely, running his arm up and down your arm in a comforting manner. 

“Yeah,” You nodded insistently, reaching up to brush a stray curl from your boyfriend’s forehead, “I want you.”

Marco gulped, his brown eyes darkening ever so slightly, “Are you sure? I mean-”

“Marco, love.” You laughed, shaking him slightly, “We’ve wanted to do this for weeks and this may be the only time in a while that the house is completely empty for the entire night.”

“Okay,” Marco whispered, closing his eyes and toying with the end of your loose shirt, “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Sighing, you pulled Marco forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before pressing your forehead up against his, drawing circles upon his cheek with your thumb, “I know you won’t, I trust you.”

“Good.” Marco mumbled huskily, moving to kiss you again as he lowered you to lay back against the pillows at the top of your bed. 

-

“Fuck,” Marco breathed out as you both lay side-by-side, pliant and sweaty against the bed covers. 

“Yeah.” You grinned widely, allowing yourself to roll over and cuddle up against Marco’s side as the endorphins and love hormones produced from sex coursed through you. 

“That was good,” Marco grinned, kissing you lightly on the forehead as he pulled you into his arms, “Was that good for you?”

“I loved it,” You sighed, not allowing your mind to catch up before you said what you were about to say, “I love you.”

Marco paused, going still and silent for a moment as you could feel his eyes boring right through you- though he pulled himself back together in a matter of seconds as he let out a glee-filled laugh, “God, I love you too.”

-

Taglist: @mansaaay​ @yongboxerrr​ @the-not-so-iconic​ @sandovalali12

[namjoonfluff]

A Sausage Surprise

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

genre: sounds like it could be smut but it’s very much fluff, Jungkook gets you a surprise before going on tour.

word count: 1,500

No sooner had you and Jungkook had moved in together, it was time for him to leave for a world tour. Despite knowing the dates of the tour for months, it really hurt to watch him pack his bags from across the bedroom. Over the last few days, you had secretly hoped the tour would get cancelled and you wouldn’t be alone in the massive apartment you shared. However, you knew how much touring meant to Jungkook. There wasn't anything in this world that would stop him from performing - not even you! 

“I know you’re sad, baby,” He hummed as he turned around to see you pouting from just above the bed sheets. “But it won’t be long until you come see me anyway!” 

What Jungkook said was true but you hated even the thought of being away from him for two weeks. Their world tour started in Seoul before the boys flew to the States for over a month. You were planning to join them for a week in the USA to explore the new cities and watch your boyfriend do what he loved. 

“It’s just not the same!” You moaned, folding your arms across your chest. Jungkook giggled at the way you sulked like a child who didn’t get what they wanted. 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know, I have a surprise for you before I go,” He teased. “Oh really!” You raised a brow and smirked. It wasn’t unlike Jungkook to treat you before he left for tour. Powered by the guilt of not seeing you for months on end, he would always take you out for fancy dinners or buy you some new jewellery before he left. You wondered what exactly he could have got you this time. “It’s a sausage surprise!” He giggled, folding some pants into his suitcase absentmindedly. 

“I have to admit,” A look of disappointment spread over your face as quick as he could say the word ‘sausage’. “Your penis really isn’t a surprise to me anymore!”

“First of all, that’s rude,” He said mockingly, throwing the t-shirt he had grabbed from the wardrobe at you. It hits you straight in the head and messes up your already sleep-crazed hair. “Second of all, it’s not that kind of sausage!”

“What is it then?” You laughed, chucking back the shirt he had assaulted you with and giving him a glare. “I don’t even like sausages - the food kind!”

“You’ll find out!” Jungkook replied. There was a glint in his eye that just told you mischief was in the air and you couldn’t wait to find out what it was. 

A few hours later, Jungkook is still pottering around the apartment, picking up all of his essentials for the tour. You had followed him into your open-plan living room to watch TV but you could still hear him reeling about your penis comment earlier. 

“I can’t believe my dick doesn’t surprise you anymore,” He said quietly, wandering around the kitchen to pick up a pair of chopsticks he carried wherever he went. You giggled at his words. 

“Is this what it means to be in a relationship for a year?” Jungkook mutters to himself as he moves from the kitchen to the living space. Still concentrating on the TV in front of you, you simply just shake your head and roll your eyes. He knows exactly what he’s doing! 

Rather than entertain his silly game to get you to fuck him (although it’s definitely something you would partake in later), you turn your mind to his surprise. What could it be? As you had already explained, you didn’t have a particular fondness for actual sausages. Then again, what kind of surprise is that? A plate of sausages? It’s not the type of surprise that you run to your friends and boast about! You just had to wait it out and hope that the surprise didn’t disappoint. Otherwise, you’re not sure you would be able to hide your annoyance with the man you loved. 

Your thoughts of speculation are soon interrupted by the sound of the apartment buzzer. However, before you have a chance to get up, Jungkook is running for the door - almost slipping on the tiled floor as he leaves the room. “I got it!” He yells. You quickly settle back down onto the comfortable sofa, finishing the show you had started about half an hour ago. You imagine it’s one of the guys or someone from management dropping off an essential Jungkook had forgot. Something like toothpaste or shower gel. He was always forgetting those. 

However, Jungkook is gone for nearly ten minutes and that’s when you start to get worried. Had he been kidnapped in his rush to answer the door? You started to get up from the sofa, thinking you will have to fight some attacker. Although it’s not long until you got your answer on Jungkook’s whereabout. You hear the door open and relief floods your body. He must be home. But it wasn’t the familiar sound you expected to hear! Jungkook normally entered the apartment by singing out your name and rustling to take off his jacket and shoes as quickly as possible. Instead, you heard the pitter patter of tiny feet on the flooring like raindrops. Immediately confused, you got up to see what it was.

Entering the hallway of your apartment, you saw a tiny puppy waiting for you. It looked up at you and let out a pathetic bark - the kind that couldn’t be heard even if you were standing at the end of the hallway. It was funny to see how the little dog compared in size to the rest of your things in the hallway. The dog was swallowed by even your pair of shoes - and you had really small feet! It wasn’t long before Jungkook re-emerged from outside with a smile. 

“Somebody lost their puppy!” You gesture down at the dog, which had started sniffing around the furniture in your hallway. “He just walked in!” “Oh baby,” Jungkook looked at you with so much love and adoration. He couldn’t believe how innocent you were being at this moment. “I don’t think anybody lost their dog” “Well, it’s not ours!” You quickly retorted. He sighed and said: “What breed is it?”

You looked back down at the puppy and examined its tiny body. It was no bigger than your fist with dumpy, little legs and a long body, which definitely looked out of proportion. “A sausage dog!” Jungkook smirked as the realisation dawned on your face. “You bought me a puppy?” “I thought you might need something to keep you company!” He said, looking down at the dog which was now chewing the hem of his jeans. “I both love and hate you right now!” You laughed, crouching down to tempt the puppy over to you. As you moved to the floor, you caught a glimpse of Jungkook’s face. He looked so offended at the mention of ‘hating him’. 

“You go away on a world tour and leave me to train this little one,” You said. The puppy ran towards you, bounding straight into your lap. It immediately began to play with you and you knew that this was going to be a fun few months. 

“Oh yeah,” He said dejectedly. “I didn’t think about that!” You looked up at him. All of a sudden the happiness on his face had faded away, replaced with a semi-sadness and regret. It was at that moment that you felt really bad. He always knew you wanted a puppy. You also got incredibly lonely while Jungkook was away - not to mention, scared when you were alone in the apartment. You couldn’t actually think of a better surprise right now!  “JK, I was joking,” You smiled. “This is going to be amazing. I’ve always wanted a dog - thank you!” His face immediately lit up again. “Plus, he can come with you to America so you won’t have to look after him all on your own! We can train him together.” “What’s his name?” You asked, letting the puppy chew away at your fingers.   Jungkook giggled. “How about Sosiji?”

“I am not calling our dog, Sausage!”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Never say never - Chapter 13

Here's a new chapter of my main story (I forgot to go on posting lol)

Fandom: RPF- Richard Armitage

Characters : OC x RA

Rating : Mature

Warnings : RPF (and factually incorrect and very soppy)

°13° ­~Victoria~

She had expected questions and intrusive crowding, but her friends and their friends, sat motionless around the table still. Victoria saw that they had unpacked every single book and movie she had bought and put them into piles, though she could not discern the logic governing the separate piles.

“Have a nice chat?” Liza asked after a moment of Victoria just standing in the door, wordless, chewing on her lower lip.

Victoria, in turn, gave an assenting grunt and handed Martin back his phone with a grateful smile.

“More information, please?” Angie demanded, crossing her legs, and putting her folded hands upon them like a school mistress ready to listen to the recitation of a particularly hopeless student. Victoria bristled.

She had to dig her heels into the floor to keep herself from turning around and fleeing the room. Adulthood somehow boiled down to the absence of the heavy, constraining hand at the back of her neck, and Victoria had a tendency to bolt every chance that she got. Afterwards, she always felt ashamed because she knew that she had not solved anything by just leaving a situation in which she felt uncomfortable, but she had not learned how to face her instincts and overcome them.

For her, it had always been a matter of being able to follow her reflexes or being forced to go against them.

It pained her to discover that her instincts were all wrong and, what was worse, not only did they neither soothe nor protect Victoria herself, no, they also usually ended up hurting someone else.

“We…we talked. I said he’s welcome to come here if he cares to. He said he’d help me set up any other furniture I might need.” She felt and sounded sheepish, Victoria knew, but she didn’t know how to make that very normal conversation sound like the outrageous exchange of dark confessions the others apparently expected.

“Oh, so I’ve been made redundant? And I had hoped you’d let me watch the movie with you.” Hiddleston winked at her.

Big breath, Victoria told herself, this was good, this was healthy, don’t run, stand your ground.

“You’re welcome here, little fairy-lord. You can come watch the movie with me.” She said in a tiny voice.

“Oh goodie good good, we have made piles of movies we want to watch along with you…on your fancy new TV…” Angie clapped her hands and, finally, Victoria understood the piles. “You naughty girl, you.” Liza laughed.

“Naughty?” Victoria blinked. She did not see why she would be naughty for watching movies. Had her father been right, and they corrupted the impeccable morals he had tried to instil in her? Were movies the devil’s dark corruption after all?

Martin had called it “porn”, she remembered, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

“What are you talking about? Have I done something wrong?” Panic seeped into her voice now and she was starting to feel a little dizzy. She knew that Liza sometimes made crude jokes, but up to this point, she had never been the butt of these jokes.

“Liza!” Angie hissed, rushing to Victoria’s side to soothe her with shushing noises and tender caresses. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” She said, but Victoria could hear that she was lying, as noted before, Angie was a terrible liar.

“Yeah, low blow, I’m sorry. So, what else does Armitage say?” Liza lifted her hands apologetically and leaned back in her chair, knowing that Victoria would most probably shrink back from her if she was to approach right now.

“He wanted to go over some comments in the script with me. We might meet up if he finds the time. I gave him my number.” Victoria narrated in an emotionless voice; her mind still occupied by the accusation of being a naughty girl.

Angie threw a look at her wife that was so earth-shatteringly severe that Liza didn’t even dare make a face at that. Unfortunately, Jenna had not picked up on it and so, still snacking on the pizza crust, she asked: “Really? You gave him your number? Cute.”

Victoria stared at her for a solid 2 minutes; her mouth was bone-dry, and her tongue seemed to be glued to her teeth. She barely heard the warning hiss Angie gave her employee. Her head was spinning; she was entering territories of supposition and innuendo she was painfully unfamiliar with, and it scared her.

“Cute?” She gasped, feeling the tears of helpless perplexity burn behind her eyes, ready to spill over. Victoria had never given this number to any man, because the last time she had given a man her private telephone number, she had had another number, she had lived in another city, she had led a very different life.

“It’s not like that. It’s professional.” She tried to defend herself weakly. It was true, she had met that man twice in her life, and both times, it had been with Liza in the context of that ludicrous side-job she had accepted to keep busy.

On the other hand, she was a single woman and, as far as she knew, he was a single man. She was a recent divorcee; he had never been married. He had slept with a thousand and one nameless women in his life…and she had only ever had one sexual partner and had never expected having to think about another one.

“Fuck.” She cursed. There were no Saints that came to mind to call upon in this situation. She should have trusted her gut feeling and pull out of this whole story while she was ahead; she should have left this first evening right away and never return to that damn room. She should have kept her door closed tightly.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry…I’m sure that he knows that it’s strictly professional.” Jenna tried to calm her, but her eyes were wide and worried now.

“OH! Will he? I’ve invited the man into my home, haven’t I? Like Delilah to Samson, oh Lord…” Victoria groaned, all of her compounded trauma harrowing her to the brink of tears once again. What would he think of her? Did he believe that she wanted to throw herself at him like a common prostitute? Did he expect that? Would he be violent if she refused?

If he thought that her intentions had been indecent, surely, he would not try to contact her in any way or form, would he?

“Like…Vic, do you intend to seduce him and cut his magic…hair?” Liza mocked, but when she saw the expression Victoria’s face, she fell silent instantly. She waved Hiddleston and Martin aside, feeling that they should not draw attention to themselves.

“Vic,” she pleaded, “look at me, girl. It’s okay, you’re safe. It was a dumb joke, nothing more.”

Liza knew that she had gone too far too fast; Victoria was in her living room while it was dark outside, together with 4 people who were attracted to women and yet, she had only made the connection once Armitage had been mentioned.

Devout and faithful, Victoria had only ever known the man she had married, in the biblical sense, and it had been overzealous of her to believe that she might take another lover so easily. There were too many things to unravel before.

“What have I done?” Victoria sobbed and the dam broke; hot tears broke their way out of her system, and she cried pitifully for a few minutes straight, shaking so much that her teeth clattered as if she was standing naked in the snow.

“Victoria? Is there anything I can do for you? You can talk to me.” Hiddleston offered and his calm demeanour managed to pacify her enough to shake her head slowly. “I have acted abominably. I…just can’t do anything right.” She croaked.

“That is not true. You’ve been frightened and overwhelmed at first, but you’ve been a kind hostess tonight. We had fun this afternoon, didn’t we? What is it that upsets you so?” Hiddleston took her hands and brushed his thumbs lightly across them in slow, gentle circles.

“What does that poor man think of me now? He will believe I am completely insane!” Victoria lamented, tears still running down her cheeks in regular intervals. “No, he won’t. He’s not a monster. We all can see that you’ve been through some things, but we’re here to make it better. And, as you said, it’s strictly professional. I’m sure he knows that.”

Hiddleston exchanged a look with Martin. Richard knew, but that didn’t prevent him from maybe hoping that one day, it wouldn’t be so. As far as one could make any assumptions based on Victoria’s erratic behaviour, she seemed half scared to death that it might turn into something that wasn’t all that professional anymore as well.

“You’ve had a stressful day, why don’t we leave you alone? I’m surprisingly free the next few days, so if you want me to, I can swing by tomorrow and while I go have my picture taken, you can choose some more furniture. And then, we finish the movie? What about that?” He coaxed her into calming down until a puffy face and a pathetic hiccup were all that remained of her passionate outburst. “Yes, I’d like that. We can go have cakes in the afternoon?” Victoria replied.

It was easy to like Hiddleston, and that discovery surprised and amazed her. He was kind and unobtrusive; he had a good sense of humour, and, most importantly, she was in no way attracted to him.

Oh, he was glorious, there was no denying that, but he reminded her too much of that friend she had dreamt up as a child – when she had lain in bed, lonely as can be – to be in any way titillating to her. He made her wish that she wasn’t an only child; he made her long for siblings, for someone to go to for advice and solace.

Never would she look at him like Jenna did: with big, longing cow-eyes that were starry with wordless adulation.

Vic’s mind slammed on the brakes again. Jenna did stare at that man like he had literally just fallen from the sky and, when Vic had proposed to go to the tearooms, her breath had stumbled for a second there.

Jenna had a crush on Liza’s friend.

Victoria was utterly baffled. Were things that easy in the normal world? Did people just meet someone handsome and kind, and then allowed their heart to leap into their eyes? Victoria could not fathom being that brazen and reckless.

“He’s right. Let’s retreat. I’m sorry, Vic.” Liza shooed the others out of the room. “Good night, dear Victoria. Thanks for the pizza. I hope we can be friends now.” Martin spoke gently as if to a sick child or to a fretful mare.

“Sorry for being such a mess. Yes, sure we can be friends. Thank you so much for the poppets.” She picked them up gingerly as she followed the others out of the room and turned off the lights in the living room.

“Not the kind of plastic dick people usually keep next to their bed.” Liza mumbled under her breath, which made Victoria skewer her with a scandalised, speechless look. “Sorry, it was too good to miss out on. You know, because…”

Victoria lifted her eyebrows in an expression of annoyed impatience; the joke went completely over her head.

“Richard is abbreviated Dick. You know…” Liza wagged her head from side to side to make very clear that she was only making a very tasteless joke and not attacking Victoria in any way. “Funny.” Victoria commented, her face so stern and forbidding that she would have given Armitage and Macfadyen a run for their money.

“They will not be kept next to my bed…once I get the proper décor for them.” Victoria then snarled. “Décor?” Martin was interested by that comment, his hand on the doorhandle already but his face turned to Victoria, eager to hear how she would proceed.

“I guess I’ll have to go to the pet shop to get a proper set-up where they’d feel at ease.” Victoria shrugged.

“They’re inanimate dolls.” Liza cried out, horrified at the idea that her friend would procure a cave and a hobbit-hole for two toys. “They’re the only friends I have now.” Victoria shot back with a dark smile.

“Ah, come on. I love you, girl. You know that I love you, don’t you? I’d never want to do you harm.” Liza smiled warmly, hugging Victoria to her chest, and breathing in her warm, clean smell. “Go to bed.” She breathed and left.

And so, Victoria went upstairs with her poppets, laying them gently on the pillow next to hers before getting ready for bed. She brushed her hair and her teeth, applied creams and serums, and put her clothes in the laundry basket…only to return to an empty bedroom. For all anybody cared, she could have gone to bed dirty and dishevelled; nobody would ever have known.

Shaking her head, she dispelled those thoughts forcefully. She had made progress today, she had opened her home to other people, and she had taken two different, hasty, and informal meals with them. She was not sure that her friends were aware of the fact that she had never lived alone before in her life and that those experiences were completely new to her, but she felt the excitement of having had acquaintances over.

A couch, she would buy a proper couch for her little sanctuary so more people could come and enjoy movies with her.

She was on the right track, she could feel it, and so she fell asleep, her poppets next to her, with a blissful smile.

~Richard~

He was an idiot. He had nothing to do the next few days, but he had made it sound as if he was terribly busy.

She had assumed that, and he had been too proud to clear the misunderstanding up, which made it only fair that now, the ball was in his court, and he would have to contact Victoria to plan a…meeting.

He would not call it a “date”, because first of all, it wasn’t a date, and second, he didn’t want to play into the hands of Martin and Elizabeth who had been aiming for that kind of thing apparently.

She had sounded breathless but not as hostile as before tonight. She had given him her number and he couldn’t stop fidgeting with the paper; by now, he had saved her number in his phone and on his laptop, just in case that he reduced the poor note to dust by handling it so much.

What would he say though? Should he give her a call or just text? He had said he’d text her, but he wanted to be on the phone with her again; it seemed that they were doing alright on the phone even though she frequently checked out of the conversation to talk to other people.

By now, the others were certainly gone…No, he would not call her again when he had nothing new to tell her. He wondered if she would have reached out if she had his number; women were usually better at that than men.

Sexist, cool, he was going insane at a rapid pace. Pictures of her, kneeling on the floor and praying to her various saints to protect her from whatever it was that haunted her so, rose inside his mind; he wondered if she slept in long, flowing, weirdly anachronistic nightgowns or if she went to bed in an old ratty sweatshirt. Both had their own appeal.

God, it was late, and his mind was wandering in all the wrong directions. He would not think of her in bed, he had no reason or right to do so, she had not given him any cause or encouragement to take that path down a very slippery slope, but he could not forget the small moans he had caught now and again.

Of course, they might have been groans of exasperation and impatience, but even so, there was something within him, deep beneath the parts of his mind he had any control over, that had responded ferociously to the breathless sound.

Maybe, he should just get it over with and send her one of those texts that only informed her of his number…

[tagsecretsanta]

From @Psychoseal

to @avengedbiologist Secret santa does not won this fic, full credit to the author above

Scott is exhausted. Running his hand through his prematurely greying hair as he exits Thunderbird One, the only thing running through his mind is the thought of a long hot shower and the largest pot of coffee on the Island. 

All Scott has ever known in his life is responsibility. He doesn’t even remember the peaceful years before Virgil was born and his life flipped upside down. Before Virgil was born, he had a number of names. Sunshine, Sweetheart, Darling, Scooter are just a small sample. But then everything changed. And his name became “Scott don’t” “Scott don’t put the stickers on the baby. Scott don’t feed the baby your broccoli. Scott don’t climb the furniture.” 

But he learned to love Virgil, and by the time his youngest brother was born his new nickname was smother hen! 

Scott can even remember his first grey hair. He was nineteen and had just gotten witnessed his thirteen-year-old brother fall from the barn roof in a dare gone wrong. That first grey hair he named Gordon! 

Once he has escaped to the safety of his room, Scott quickly strips off his clothes before climbing under stream of fresh almost boiling water. He is so tired he doesn’t even realise that the water is dying his skin blue as he lathers shower gel into his hair, his eyes closed happily as the water helps him to relax. Finally. 

Flicking the water off, he strings a large fluffy towel around his hips. 

Then screams. 

A scream so loud it brings Grandma running up two flights of stairs from the kitchen and barging into his room. “Scott?” she gasps, struggling to catch her breath. The rolling pin she was using to make the pie crust still in the hand. “What happened?” 

“Gordon!” Scott growls. “Where is he?” 

“London with Lady Penelope on vacation and has been all week, I don’t think this is one of his” Grandma reminds him gently. 

“Never jump to conclusions Smurf” Virgil says having also heard the screams, and come running, stopping short when he spots his big brother and bursting into laughter. “Think, who have you annoyed recently, then follow the trail to the culprit” 

“Annoyed? I never annoy anyone” Scott splutters in protest. “I am going to borrow your bathroom to get rid of this ridiculous dye” 

“Sure Smurf just let me do something really important first” Virgil says, and before Scott has the time to run, Virgil snaps a photo of him and runs away laughing. 

“Grandma!” Scott protests, he can feel a new grey hair emerging. 

“Go and get a shower, I will have a word with Virgil” Grandma replies leaving him to his thoughts.

Scott’s thoughts are not pleasant, and involve drowning the responsible brother in boiling oil, or tarring and feathering them while he films their humiliation. Googling cruel and unusual punishment ideas once he is back to normal and hiding out in his own room, Scott smiles at some of the ideas and regrets the vote he lost to build an island jail for his wayward siblings. 

Lying back on his bed, his head resting on the pillow, Scott stares at the ceiling in the ever-increasing gloom of the early evening, but he doesn’t get up to put the light on, but he can’t sleep. The frustration with his brothers isn’t receding the longer he lies here. Revenge is the only thing he wants! 

*TB*

Gordon is back from leave the following morning. Carrying a bag full of gifts for his family. All neatly wrapped. 

“Where is everyone?” he asks Virgil who is the only one in the kitchen. 

Virgil doesn’t answer him while he focuses on draining his coffee instead. “Mmm, that is better! What did you ask Squid legs?” 

“Where is everyone?” Gordon repeats. Rolling his eyes and pouring himself a coffee.

“Alan and Scott are still in bed. You need to apologise to Scott. He didn’t think your prank was a good idea!” Virgil says. 

“What prank?” Gordon asks. His eyes wide and innocent.

“The dye in his shower head. How did you pull that off anyway? You weren’t even here” Virgil asks, he is impressed despite himself. If Gordon has evolved to pulling pranks remotely, then the whole island is doomed! 

“Oh that. I just gave Alan the instructions and told him where the joke kit is hidden. Alan is the guilty party, not me” Gordon insists.

“IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT!” A voice booms from behind him, causing Gordon to startle and almost drop his coffee. 

“Smurf, hi” Virgil says, trying to dissipate the tension building between his two brothers. 

“I KNEW YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS” Scott roars at Gordon.

Gordon rolls his eyes picks up one of Grandma’s scented candles and throws it at Scott’s head. “Lighten up Smurf” he says before running from the room, Scott on his heels determined more than ever to pound the brat! 

Gordon runs up the stairs and out the main doors to the pool.

“No running by the pool Fish” Scott shouts at him, that thing in his brain telling him to protect his younger brothers kicking in again. 

Gordon once again is one step ahead of him as he dives into the pool, and swims across to the other side, before climbing up and continuing to run down to the beach still pursued by Scott, who can’t outswim him and he knows he can’t break an important safety rule. Gordon is fast, but Scott is angry and determined, and he catches up to him, tackling him to the ground. 

“What on earth?” Jeff asks in exasperation. “Gordon you only had one job!” 

Gordon struggles under Scott’s weight, as his eldest brother is now sitting on his chest, pinning his shoulders to the ground with his arms. “I got him here didn’t I?” 

“Let him up Scott please” Jeff asks.

“What’s the magic word?” Scott asks Gordon. 

“Abracadabra” Gordon replies. 

“Scott” Jeff asks again.

And Scott knows that this is the best he can hope for as he rolls off his brother and allows him to stand. “Why are you here?” he asks his dad. “And what did you mean when you said you got me here?” he asks Gordon, now thoroughly confused by the whole matter. 

“Come with me, and you will find out” Jeff replies cryptically. 

Scott follows his father and brother along the sandy pathway leading to a small cove Gordon discovered during his first summer on the island, before he stops in his tracks at the scene in front of him. 

All his favourite people in one place. something that rarely happens in his family. His brothers, even John, are all sitting on the floor around the preparations for a bonfire, yet to be lit. 

“Scott come and sit down” Grandma calls him over. There is a smile on her face, as she pats a spare piece of sand next to her. Scott does as he is told, even though he is confused by what is happening. 

He hasn’t even noticed a large pile of gifts, all neatly wrapped nearby where Alan is sat chatting to Colonel Casey. 

“Why is everyone here?” he finally asks, unable to resist the temptation any longer. 

“I TOLD YOU HE FORGOT!” Gordon cries gleefully. 

“Forgot what?” Scott asks, racking his brains desperately for anything he might have missed. It definitely isn’t Christmas as the villa’s not been decorated. And it isn’t one of his brother’s birthdays as there is no way he would be allowed to forget those. Alan still drops gift hints for months before the big day.

“Hand it over John” Gordon says holding his hand out for his winnings. John reluctantly hands over a twenty dollar bill. 

“Will someone please tell me what the heck is going on?” Scott asks. Unable to take the laughter any longer. 

“What day is it?” Virgil asks, trying to help him out. 

“Erm Wednesday?” Scott replies. 

“It is Saturday Scott” Virgil replies rolling his eyes. “How about the month?” 

Scott knows this one. As it was Alan’s birthday recently. “March” Scott says this time confidently. 

“It’s April” Virgil says. 

“No it isn’t. Alan’s birthday was the other day” Scott insists. 

Virgil takes pity on his eldest brother. “Scott it’s the fourth of April. This is your birthday party!” 

“It can’t be. I would know if it was April already. Gordon is this an April fools’ joke?” Scott asks, turning his attention to Gordon, who is sitting on Lady Penelope’s lap while she hand feeds him grapes. “And can’t you do that in private?” 

“Nota April foolsh joke” Gordon confirms, his mouth full of half chewed grape.

“Ugh swallow first” Scott tells him disgusted, and still not convinced that it really is his birthday. 

“Scott, it really is April. And it really is your birthday. I am sorry I gave Gordon the job if getting you down to the beach, but happy birthday son” Jeff tells him. “We are worried about you though. You have been working far too hard recently. You missed Gordon’s April fools’ day prank because you were on Mars with Alan. it was a good one this year too” he adds.

“What did he do?” Scott asks. Remembering that this is Jeff’s first April fools’ since he got back from the Oort cloud. 

“Snuck into the GDF headquarters and left a notice on the board advising on a Chewbacca Roaring contest and to call my phone and leave a voicemail with their best effort and that I will judge them tomorrow. He even managed to set my phone to go straight to voicemail and put a message on it repeating the contest instructions.” Jeff tells him grinning. 

“And you found that funny?” Scott asks. 

“I did. And I have picked a winner already. Gordon will be paying the fifty-dollar reward though!” Jeff says. 

“Worth it” Gordon says with a shrug. “But Scott, seriously open your presents already!” 

Scott is still sceptical but he also knows that Colonel Casey and his father wouldn’t play a practical joke on him, maybe it really is his birthday.

Picking up the first gift from the pile. Scott knows without looking at it that this was wrapped by Gordon. It is wrapped in bright yellow paper and covered in so much tape he knows that it will take him hours to get in to! Sure enough the label reads “Yo scotty. Have fun getting into this. Love your favourite brother” 

“Hey look, he’s picked your gift Gords” Alan says with a grin, grabbing his phone and loading up the timing app. “Ready Scott?” he asks. 

“Ready for what?” Scott asks.

“Our party game; let’s see how long it takes you to get into the present. My guess is thirty-five minutes” Alan replies. 

Scott knows that he should play along, this has always been one of their favourite traditions. An invention of Gordon’s the first year he was old enough to wrap gifts. “Fine. Start the count” he says. 

“GO!” Alan calls. 

Scott tries to slide his nail under the tape but it is impossible. He can’t deny that Gordon is the master. Turning the badly wrapped gift over in his hands, looking for a way in Scott gets more and more frustrated as the minutes tick by, and starts to chew his way in, finally biting a hole through the tape and into the paper. 

“How long?” Gordon asks the official timekeeper.

“Six minutes, thirty-five seconds” Alan replies. “Dad and Colonel Casey have been eliminated from the game” 

“You all had bets?” Scott asks, he is laughing now though. Finally starting to relax.

“Of course” Jeff tells him. “We have been planning this for weeks” 

Scott is now working on making the hole bigger, sticking his thumb in and wriggling it about. the contents are confusing, as whatever is in here feels slimy. 

Pulling out a piece of still wet seaweed Scott is confused. “Seaweed?” he asks Gordon. 

Gordon grins at him. “Yep and there is something else in there too” 

Scott pulls out the rest of his gift. A book. 

“Stop the clock Al” Gordon says. 

“Eleven minutes, twenty-two seconds” Alan announces, checking the contest list for the closest. “Hey Virg, you won!” 

Virgil jumps up from the floor to do his victory dance, pumping his fist in the air and twirling around until he falls over his own feet. Picking himself up and spitting out sand, he turns to Scott. “What is the book Scott? I don’t think Gordon has ever even opened a book let alone bought one for someone else!” 

Scott examines the books cover. “1001 of the weirdest laws in the world” he realises that one of the pages is bookmarked. Opening the book Scott reads the highlighted passage “In New Hampshire, it is illegal to collect and carry away seaweed at the beach, but only at night.” 

“You didn’t?!” Scott asks, eyeing up his brother. “You went to New Hampshire in the middle of the night to get seaweed even though it is illegal?” 

Unrepentant, Gordon nods. “Yeah I even borrowed thunderbird one. Do you like it?” 

“Like it?!” Scott asks spluttering with laughter. “Only you Gords. Come here” 

Gordon scrambles to his feet from Lady Penelope’s lap and runs over to Scott, who grabs him by the waist and tackles him to the ground. “Of course I like it! Who doesn’t love gifts that have been gathered illegally?” 

The rest of Scott’s presents are more normal. A painting of Thunderbird One over the Island from Virgil, which will look great above his bed. “Thanks Virg. I love it” He says, now with genuine enthusiasm. 

“The cavern quest expansion pack” Scott says opening up his gift from Alan. 

“Yeah, I am going to need that back once you are done” Alan says. 

“Sure” Scott replies, handing it over. He does not have the time to play mindless video games. 

Alan rolls his eyes. “Scott. You have to play it first. Come and see me tomorrow and Kayo and I will teach you” 

“You know I don’t have the time” Scott reminds them. 

“You do, we cleared your schedule for the rest of the week. You are on vacation and we are going to teach you to have fun!” Alan insists.

“I know how to have fun” Scott insists. 

“Scott, your idea of fun is doing paperwork, nagging me and cleaning your room” Gordon tells him. 

Making the only decision that will allow him to keep his dignity, Scott ignores Gordon and goes back to his presents. This one is from Grandma and turns out to be vouchers for an evening out at his favourite restaurant. “Thanks Grandma, but can I leave Gordon and Alan here to eat your lasagne, they really like the way you leave it frozen in the middle but burn the top layer.” 

“Scoooooo-oooooott!” Gordon and Alan whinge in unison. 

“Call it big brother’s revenge!” Scott replies with a grin. 

Their pouting doesn’t last long as Scott unwraps his gift from his father. 

Shocked by the contents, Scott just stares at him. 

“Well?” Jeff asks.

“I can’t” Scott insists. “International Rescue needs me. They need me” 

Scott has been raising his younger brothers for so long, he has not had a proper vacation in years. But this states he can have a whole month away from all the worry and stress. 

“We can cope. The GDF are going to take care of some of the simple rescues. The hood and the Chaos Crew are all safely locked away in the newly rebuilt Hex prison. I don’t think they liked the irony of being locked up in a prison they blew up!” Jeff says. “It is okay to admit you need a break Scott” 

Scott can feel tears welling up in his eyes, and it his father who makes the first move, wrapping his arms around his eldest son, who has been so strong for so long. 

“We love you Scooter” Jeff says. “You have held this family together beautifully, but please let me help you” 

Scott nods. His head still buried on Jeff’s shoulder. 

“If I do, please don’t let Gordon have Thunderbird one!” Scott says, trying to inject some humour into the situation. 

“Oh I don’t know; he did a g-g-great job while you were on Mars. A-a-apart from the unauthorised t-t-trip to New Hampshire” Brains says.

“Oh don’t forget the drone he crashed into the Eiffel tower” John says. 

“And the flood in the hangar when he was trying to clean off the mud off after he had to rescue the three explorers from a mudslide in Italy” Virgil says.

“Stop it, or he will never agree to leave” Jeff says. 

“Where am I going to go?” Scott asks. 

“Anywhere you want son” Jeff replies. Still holding him in his embrace. “We can talk about it after the party. Now how about you open some more presents, then we can get the bonfire started and grill some breakfast” 

Scott doesn’t make an effort to move from Jeff’s side, but happily opens the rest of his presents. Finally realising that they are right, he has been so wrapped up in the problems of the world that he has been carrying that weight on his soul, and it is slowly crushing the life out of him. Maybe, just maybe he can take a vacation. 

*TB*

The party lasts all day, thank you to the organisational skills of his family there are no emergency call outs, as Eos is forwarding the calls to local authorities and the GDF. The sun is starting to set, but the party is still going strong. Gordon and Lady Penelope have disappeared somewhere more private, but everyone else is there.

Alan is in charge of the music. Having set up a playlist and letting it go.

“GUYS COME ON! THIS IS MY FAVOURITE” Alan calls when the introduction to his favourite some comes on. “LINE UP” 

No one moves as the opening lines of the macarena start up. 

Alan grabs Jeff’s hands and pulls him into a standing position. “Come on dad, pleeeeeeaaaaassssssse!” he begs, giving his father the wide doe eyed start that no one, not even the great Jeff Tracy. 

“Okay fine show me what to do” Jeff replies. 

“Great! Okay Scott, Virgil, John, Grandma, Kayo, Parker, Brains, Colonel Casey” Alan calls while he starts going through the movements of the dance.

Virgil is the first to join in. knowing that Alan needs this just as much as Scott does. Taking his phone, he tries to contact Gordon. A family macarena isn’t the same without the family fish. 

“Hey Virg, what’s up?” Gordon asks. 

“Where are you?” Virgil asks. 

“Thunderbird one with Pen” Gordon replies. 

“Please tell me you’re just giving her a tour” Virgil asks facepalming. 

“Sure” Gordon replies with a shrug.

“Anyway stop it, and get back to the beach, we are having a family dance off” Virgil says. 

“You know I am going to win right?” Gordon asks, ringing off without giving Virgil a response. Pulling his shirt back on, he helps Lady Penelope zip back up her dress before they hop down from the pilots seat and exit Scott’s plane before running hand in hand back to the beach. 

“The macarena?” Gordon says with a grin. “Put it back to the beginning Al” 

Alan skips the track back to the start, and Gordon takes centre stage. Wriggling his hips before jumping up into the air crying “HEY MACARENA!” every single time. 

Even Parker and Grandma join in. the move on to the cha cha slide and the YMCA before collapsing into a heap on the floor laughing. 

“What song next DJ Allie?” Kayo asks. Even she has relaxed, her hair no longer in its customary tight pony tail but falling loosely around her shoulders. 

Alan grins before jumping up to his feet and skipping over to his phone. 

“No way. This I draw the line too!” Kayo says as the opening to baby shark starts to blare through the speakers. 

“SCOTTY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO! Gordon starts. “SCOTTY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO” 

John is the first to join in. “SCOTTY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO” 

Jeff joins in too “SCOTTY SHARK!” 

Kayo groans, but she knows when she is defeated.  “VIRGY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO VIRGY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO VIRGY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO VIRGY SHARK!” 

This is the version of the song Jeff would sing to Alan and Gordon to get them to sleep after their mom died. It never got them to agree to go to sleep but became a family tradition along with their bedtime stories. 

“JOHNNY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO JOHNNY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO JOHNNY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO JOHNNY SHARK! 

Lady Penelope is looking at the boys and Jeff like she has never seen them before while they do the baby shark song dance like the madmen, she always suspected they are. But she can’t help but join in. 

“GORDY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO GORDY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO GORDY SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO GORDY SHARK!” 

“ALLIE SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO ALLIE SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO ALLIE SHARK DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO ALLIE SHARK!” 

Lady Penelope stops there she has no idea what will come next, as there is no way they will hunt prey! 

“TRAPPED IN A CAVE DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO TRAPPED IN A CAVE DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO TRAPPED IN A CAVE DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO TRAPPED IN A CAVE” 

“LET’S GO SAVE DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO LET’S GO SAVE DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO LET’S GO SAVE DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO LET’S GO SAVE!”

“SAFE AT LAST DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO SAFE AT LAST DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO SAFE AT LAST DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO SAFE AT LAST!” 

“You guys are too adorable” Lady Penelope says. 

Night has fully fallen now, and with it the boys’ inhibitions and dignity have evaporated with the daylight and they are now dancing their way through whatever song that comes on. Wild songs that see them dancing round the fire all holding hands and laughing. Slow songs which Lady Penelope and Gordon take centre stage for, dancing like their the only two people in the world. Fast songs they dance wildly too. 

“Is anyone going to bed?” Jeff asks, just after four o’clock. The fire is starting to die down now, and with it the temperature is dropping. He is starting to feel the chill in the air and he can tell by looking at Alan who is standing over the dying fire, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm that he is not the only one. 

No one protests, as they tiredly march back to the house, Scott and Virgil taking the time to make sure the fire is out. 

*TB*

“So, Gordy Shark” Lady Penelope says once they are alone in Gordon’s room. “Want round two of what we got up to in Thunderbird One?” 

Gordon grins before he strips his shirt off and jumps into the bed. 

*TB*

Scott leaves for his vacation the following afternoon, carrying one rucksack full of everything he is going to need for his trip, after forcing all four of his brother’s sign a contract that they will tell him immediately if he is needed. 

There is an immense feeling of relief as he gets settled in the cabin he has rented, looking out of the window at the sun glittered lake. This is the perfect place, miles away from civilisation and the problems he deals with every day. 

The only issue he faces here, is will he want to return to that chaos when his dream holiday is over?

[ravenforce]

Stark Legacy III

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Maria Hill x Reader

Word Count: 2869

A/N: Oh gosh. I’m so sorry I haven’t been updated a lot of fics recently. There’s no excuse except that Animal Crossing New Horizon is taking up so much of my time but I am working on being more productive. Also, it doesn’t help that somehow I can’t seem to come to terms with this chapter. I feel like everything I write is shit. That’s why I’m trying to let the creative energy blockage to pass. I hope you guys like this chapter. Stay safe. xx

Parts: 1 | 2  | 4  | 5 | 6

***

After a week of poking and prodding at the Avengers compound, Fury finally agreed to let you stay off-site. Not that he has any say on your decision, anyway. He’s not the boss of you. You knew it will only cause more valuable time to be wasted if you resist, you compromised by letting Happy be assigned to you. The same way he was assigned to the handle Spider-man before. You felt like a child, it was ridiculous.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take back your position in the office?” Pepper asked as she enters the living room where you’ve been watching the city from its floor-to-ceiling windows. Happy drove you directly to Stark Tower, which Pepper handed the keys back to you. It’s now the Avengers Tower but technically it is still owned by Stark Industries. Thus, still owned by you, Pepper and Morgan.

You took a minute looking out the view before turning back towards your sister-in-law. You walked towards her at the centre of the room and gave her arms a squeeze. “Stark Industries is better off in your hands, P.”

She smiled at you before pulling you into a hug for the nth time since she found out that you’re alive.

“What are you gonna do?” Before you can answer, the door to the penthouse and came walking in is Happy with a beautiful little girl in tow.

“Hey,” Happy greeted. “Sorry, we’re a bit late. Someone made one too many stops at the labs.”

Pepper beckoned the girl over, and immediately she took her mother’s hand. “Morgan, I’d like you to meet somebody.” Morgan took one look at you. A look of recognition passes on her face before she let go of Pepper’s hand to run towards you. She came barreling to your leg.

“Hey,” you greeted while running your hand over her soft hair. You look at Pepper with a questioning look.

“Morgan, do you know who this is?” Morgan pulled away from where she’s perched on your leg and look back at Pepper.

“Yes, mom. She’s Y/N Stark. Daddy’s baby sister.” She turned back to you with a smile.

You crouched down in front of her. You offered her your hand to shake but Morgan had another idea. She threw her arms around your neck and nearly tackled you down in a tight hug. You chuckled. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Morgan Stark.”

She giggled and pulled away. “You’re a silly humanoid.”

Everyone stopped and stared at the little girl. Pepper recovered first. “Sweetheart, how’d you know that word?” She asked. Morgan only looked at you before running her hand over where your ball-joints are connected.

“Dad told me everything.” You rolled your eyes internally at your brother, wherever he is. “I’m not sure how it worked but Dad said you’re the best sister ever, and that when you wake up, you’ll be the best aunt too.”

That got you down on your ass on the floor. You can’t cry, not really but at that moment, had you been human, you would’ve been crying your eyes out. Suddenly, sitting there on the floor with your brother’s offspring in front of you, you were overcome with so much grief. Life wasn’t fair.

Why did your brother have to die, and you, survive? He had more to live for than you. He has a wife. He has a daughter. He was happy. He deserved to live, too.

Morgan cupped your face. She must have seen through your robotic face. “It’s okay Y/N. We’ll be okay.”

You blinked twice at her before nodding. She’s an intuitive, emphatic kid. She is really Pepper and Tony’s daughter. No question about that. Then Morgan started chewing at her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just…” she paused. She looked unsure of what to ask or how to ask her question. So, you run your hand through her hair and assured her that she could ask you anything. “…uhm. I just want to know how your body is operating? Is F.R.I.D.A.Y installed in your core? Or was it J.A.R.V.I.S?”

“Morgan!” Pepper admonished, and for Morgan’s part, she looked sheepish. You can only gape at your eight-years-old niece for a minute. She truly is a Stark and one that hanged out with her dad too much, apparently.

“Well, right now there’s no AI installed in this body but I’m planning to put one on my own. Maybe you could help me name it when it’s done?”

Morgan grinned before launching in a barrage of questions, only child geniuses could ask at that age.

“Excuse me, Y/N.” Pepper cut in through your nerd conversation with Morgan. “Do you mind if I use the kitchen to make us dinner? I don’t think the little one would want to leave soon.”

“Knock yourself out. Happy stocked up before we arrived.” That’s all the answer Pepper got before you and Morgan moved from the floor to your new bedroom to continue geeking out about your robotics.

Happy sidled up to the blonde as they watch you two happily chatting. “It’s a match made in heaven,” Happy teased; earning a soft chuckle from Pepper.

“Yeah. Finally, someone who can keep up with her.”

Morgan and Pepper are really close but Pepper suspects that Morgan misses having someone geeky in the house that can talk to her about engineering, robotics, science, history, etc.

***

Morgan and Pepper stayed for two nights in the tower. You wished they could have stayed longer but Morgan has school but Pepper promised they’ll be back every weekend. Without Morgan in the house, it’s far too quiet even with Happy around. Speaking of the man, you found him after your shower, lounging at the bar over some S.H.I.E.L.D folders. 

“Busy?” you asked as you went to the coffee machine by instinct. Happy watched you freeze for a moment but he didn’t say anything. He understood that you’re still coping with your new normal.

“Nope. Why?” He closed all his open folders but left them on the counter. 

You turned towards him with a smile. “Great. I need your help.” 

When you said you needed his help. He thought maybe you needed help where he can use his talents as an agent but instead he found himself dusting around Tony’s old on-site lab. It looks exactly the same as the last time Tony used it. Not a single furniture and equipment out of place. It was nostalgic and bittersweet to be there again. 

“Ugh!” He groaned after putting one more box in the storage room. You looked at your friend as he sweats through his shirt and stretches his back. 

“Tired already?” You asked in a teasing voice. 

“My back is killing me, and aren’t you?” You laughed and he turned to look at you. For a minute he forgot you are not exactly human anymore. A few nights ago you mentioned, post-human, and he thought it was quite a fitting classification. He decided that’s what he’s gonna use from then on.

“Actually, I can do this all day.” Happy rolled his eyes at you before giving you the finger. You laughed hard before you walked towards him.

“Sit down. Let the one who can’t get backaches do the heavy lifting.” He can hear the joy in your voice as you continue to tease him of his fragility. You handed him your new tablet, while you started carrying the rest of the boxes into storage. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

You stopped and chuckled. You pulled out a folded paper from your pocket. It’s a list of equipment and materials. “Please, purchase everything on that list. You can find most of them from Stark Industries. The rest you can outsource on Amazon.” 

Happy looked at the list and started putting everything in your cart. “Are you building something?”

You dusted your hand and locked the storage room. You plopped down on Tony’s couch and looked at Happy as he concentrates on finding the right items with the right specs for you. 

“Yes.” When no other word from you was forthcoming, he looked up at you. You can see the question in his eyes but before he can voice it out, you threw him a rolled-up parchment. He barely caught it and he glared at you. When he opened it, his eyes almost popped out of its socket. 

“Y/N.” He pause to consider what this little project means.  

“You’re not?” he broke off in the middle. 

“I am.” 

***

The dream team is spending their much deserved weekend off after being away for a month-long mission in Hungary. Usually, they would spend their weekend at home after long missions but they’ve been coup up in the safe house for a month and had only been going out on surveillance twice in every week. So, to change things up a little bit, they found themselves out on a bustling Saturday night. The plan was simple: have dinner on Wanda and Carol’s restaurant of choice, and maybe a walk along the park to aid their digestion.

“Oh, this is so good,” Carol nearly moaned after taking her first bite on the strawberry shortcake they ordered for dessert.

“I’m really glad we’re able to do this.” They all smiled at Wanda before Nat reached out and wipe the icing that stuck on the side of her lips. Wanda blushed. After all this time, Natasha still makes her flush like crazy, and it doesn’t help that she’s the smoothest out of all of them. Except with you, that is.

It’s an observation she gathered from the handful of times they’ve interacted with you in the HQ. Even Carol and Maria agrees that Nat is uncharacteristically a mess whenever you’re around. It’s a topic they have yet the time, and the energy to breach with the redhead.

“To us.” Maria raised her glass and everybody promptly clinked their glasses together. Not a minute after, the sound of sirens was heard along the street. They looked at each other before pulling out their phones, and they were shocked to see multiple miscalls from HQ.

“Shit.” They groaned collectively but before they can even think to stand and bolt, another restaurant patron yelled.

“Missile!”

It’s like time stood still. Even with years of work and training, they were rendered frozen and rooted in place, waiting for the inevitable to hit. After Thanos, they all had to undergo mandatory therapy for PTSD. Nat and Wanda went because losing Clint and Vision still haunts their dreams, Maria for being dusted herself, and Carol for stress management.

***

“Ms Stark that missile is heading straight for Agent Hill, Danvers, Romanoff, and Maximoff.”

“What?” You yelled at your newly developed AI before putting more speed to catch the missile. You can see the four idiots just standing there frozen. You caught glimpse of the missile timer, and you thought you’re not gonna make it into the stratosphere before it explodes. So, you raced ahead of it and triggered one of your suit’s new feature: electromagnet shield before it exploded in your chest.

***

Maria squinted as they watch the missile approached their location. Something else is flying towards them. Something she can’t put a finger on but oh so familiar.

“Is that - ” She wasn’t able to finish the question before Carol and Natasha were tackling her and Wanda on the ground. Then the missile exploded.

***

For a minute, there’s a ringing in their ear, and they were severely disoriented. Carol and Natasha rolled away from their girlfriends and laid their back, feeling the cold, concrete floor. They tried to blink rapidly to clear the white spots that are floating around their vision. Maria was the first to sit up, followed by Carol, then Natasha and Wanda. They looked at each other, making sure everyone was unharmed. 

“What just happened?” Carol asked, with her hand outstretched to help everyone up. 

Wanda was quiet for a moment before she was running towards the balcony, where a few customers are gathered around the mouth of the restaurant, hovering around something. Before they could question her what’s up, she just jumped out of the balcony instead of using the stairs like a normal person. 

“Shit. What now?” Nat followed Wanda over the balcony and landed gracefully at the sidewalk. Carol floated down on her Captain Marvel suit, while Maria exited the establishment through the front door. She walked towards the crowd and whipped out her badge to clear the bystanders. Carol, Nat, and Wanda helped to make a perimeter, so their girlfriend can assess the situation. 

When they saw what it is, they were frozen for the second time around that night. 

“Who is that? Is that RESCUE? Is she gonna be okay?”

An onslaught of questions was thrown to them but they have absolutely no clue how to answer. The suit does look a little like Pepper’s RESCUE but instead of blue and white, this one is pure black. The helmet is unmistakably Iron Man’s original design. 

“It’s Y/N,” Wanda whispered as she and Carol crowd over your body to shield you from everyone’s view. Maria is frantically typing on her phone, asking for a pickup team on their location ASAP. Nat’s crouched down and poking at your helmet. 

“The blast must have knocked her out.” Another poke to the helmet.

“Stop poking me, Agent Romanoff. It’s a rude way to say thanks.” She startled when she heard your voice before the lights on your helmet came back on. She stood up and sidled with Maria. Captain Marvel offered her hand and you took it. 

“Thank you.” 

“No, thank you for saving us back there.” You opted to nod at the Captain since she can’t see you smile and you don’t want to retract your helmet and expose yourself. You hovered over the ground and looked behind them.

Nat caught the action, as small as it. “We’re attracting too much attention. Meet us back at the HQ.”

“The tower is closer.” They all turned to Maria for consent and she freely gave it. 

Before you can fly off, a young boy yelled. “Hey! Are you RESCUE?” 

You hovered back down and crouched in front of him. “No, I’m not but we’re friends.”

“What’s your name then?”

“I’m Phantom.” You pinched the boy’s cheeks before flying back to the tower. You looked back and saw him smiling and waving at you.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “since you’ve been gone” rating: T warnings: self harm, suicidal thoughts, intrusive thoughts, sympathetic remus, sympathetic deceit, intrulogical genre: hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending description: Remus isn’t doing so well. (prompt from @ancient-fruity:  "I'm feeling angsty Deceit is accepted by the core and he moves to finally have Virgil back. Remus is finally all alone. Someone finds Remus sleeping behind the couch on the core sides living room, hugging a pillow as hard as he can as if it was run away from him. He doesn't want to be alone. He lost his brother, and his two only friends. He's just so lonely.")

My mother, she told me "Don't get in trouble" My father, he told me He knew I would

My brothers, they told me "Don't give a damn" My sister, she told me To do something good

He's alone.

Remus bites his lip hard- harder- not stopping until he feels the skin of his bottom lip split open and spill blood down his chin. It hurts, but he relishes the hurt, rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his knees.

He knows Deceit doesn't mean to leave him behind. He would do the same if he could. To be accepted by the others- accepted by Thomas- accepted by Virgil-

It means a lot. And it's important that Deceit be accepted. Thomas needs him.

But he doesn't need Remus.

No matter what Remus said in his song, no matter what Logan spilled about his role, he knows the others don't see him as important or necessary. He's just the gross, unwanted bits of Creativity. The Creativity nobody needs. They need Roman. Thomas needs his brother.

But him? They'd be better off without him at all.

If Deceit was here, he'd stop him. If Deceit was here, Remus wouldn't be sitting in his room in the dark, bumping the back of his head on the wall the harder he rocks, blood running down his chin from his bitten lip. Pain sizzles from his lip, but he ignores it.

He's so lonely. He's so alone. He doesn't like to be alone. It's dark down here, and normally he likes the dark, but this darkness has too much weight to it, too much of something indefinable struggling to writhe in the shadows.

Remus runs a hand through his hair, rumpling the grey-streaked strands. He doesn't think he's washed his hair in days. He can't bring himself to care. If Deceit were here, he would probably make a face and coax Remus to stand up, cajole him into the bathroom with honeyed promises of kraken fights and new cologne drinks.

But Deceit's not here.

He forces himself to his feet anyway, scrubbing off some of the blood with the back of his hand. It gleams dark red on his skin and after a few seconds of resisting the urge, he leans down and licks it. Metal bursts across his tongue and he makes a face.

It's night time. Everyone will be asleep. Perhaps that's what drives him up the rickety staircase, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He ignores everything but that, ignores the tacky feel of the blood drying on his chin and the ache of the bruises pounded into his ribs this morning when he realized he was all alone, ignores how much his knees ache and the gummy feel of his eyelids.

The door at the top is unlocked. Remus regards it with dozy surprise. He thought they would have locked it by now, to keep him out. That's what they want, isn't it? They want him out. They want him alone.

He turns the knob slowly, more than half expecting Morality or Logic to be on the other side, ready to shove him down the stairs. He wonders if he'll fly down them or hit every one on the way down, listening to his bones snap and crunch on every half-rotted step.

Nothing. The living room is empty, only a faint night light glowing by the kitchen. He can't hear anything. The others must all be in their rooms. Must all be sleeping. Remus chews on his bottom lip before the white hot slash of pain reminds him why that's a terrible idea.

Without even realizing he's doing it, he's eased the door shut behind him. His heart pounds in his chest, so hard he almost expects to look down and see his shirt move. He tiptoes behind the sofa, conjuring up a body pillow and curling up on the floor.

Just a few minutes, he promises himself, soaking in the long-held promise of warmth and the residue of friendship that permeates the room. When he closes his eyes extra tight, he can almost see them all sprawled on and around the couch, blankets askew and popcorn tipped over, gesticulating at the TV screen and laughing at the cheesy bits.

Without meaning to, Remus falls fast asleep, holding onto his pillow like it can replace everyone he's ever cared about.

Oh I was hit as a kid I was good but then I quit Everyone that tried to fix me Knows that I can't change a bit I've got no shame, got no pride Only skeletons to hide

"Remus?"

A surprised, familiar voice invades his dreams, making Remus whine low in his throat and curl up tighter around his pillow. That voice shouldn't be anywhere near him anyway. Logic would never come down to the-

"Remus?" Logan repeats. "Why are you on the floor?"

And with a sudden, unpleasant jolt, Remus wakes up and realizes that instead of falling asleep in the musty detritus of his bedroom (he hasn't been motivated to clean since Deceit left), he's sprawled out on the floor in the light sides living room, curled up behind the couch like a pathetic scrap of trash.

"Remus?" Logan says once more, as Remus blinks, getting his bearings. "Are you all right?"

Remus opens his mouth to reply, remembers the tenderness in his bottom lip, and promptly bursts into tears. Alarmed, Logan kneels beside him, one hand hovering over his shoulder like he wants to pat it in comfort, but has no idea what to do.

"What's wrong?" Logan asks. He looks distressed, but not as much as Remus feels. Nothing could equal the tidal wave of Remus's turbulent emotions, crashing over him time and time again.

"I'm sorry," he hiccups. "I just- I didn't mean to fall asleep, I'll go-" He shifts in preparation to stand and now Logan does let his hand land on Remus's shoulder, anchoring him in place.

"You don't have to go," Logan says, serious eyes studying him behind his glasses. "Why were you asleep behind the couch, Remus? You are allowed on the furniture, as far as I am aware." Remus looks down, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest.

"I just- I didn't want to be alone anymore," he confesses, his voice tear-choked. "But- but I am anyway, I've lost my br- well, anyway, I lost Virgil and I lost Deceit and it's just me and there's- there's no one to show my creations anymore or- or hear what it would sound like to fall off a cliff and there's no one to laugh with or hug- not that I need hugs, I don't-" he hastens to assure Logan, though nothing could be farther from the truth.

"You're all alone," Logan breathes, and the truth in his statement hits Remus like a physical blow, making him wince and curl in defensively with his pillow. "Oh, Remus, I- I didn't realize, I'm so sorry-"

"For what?" Remus asks blankly. "It's not your fault. It's just. It's the way it has to be." He shrugs, staring down in his lap. Logan's hand tightens on his shoulder briefly before dropping, taking one of his hands and lacing their fingers together. Logan's skin is warm and Remus clings to it, like the last shivering embers of a dying campfire.

"Why do you say that?" Logan asks, his voice hushed.

"It's simple, isn't it?" Remus asks, cocking his head to one side. "Thomas needs the rest of you. He needs Deceit and Virgil and my brother and you and even Morality." He laughs once, humorlessly. "He doesn't need me. I'm just- just some gross trash man with gross thoughts no one wants to hear about. So I belong down there." He motions toward the door blending into the wall. "I just- I got lonely."

"Remus, Thomas does need you," Logan says slowly. "You said it yourself in the video Thomas did with you. If he wants to explore more mature ideas in his content- and I know that he does- then I'm afraid Roman's work alone will not, as they say, cut it. You aren't just a gross trash man. You take pride in your work. I know you do. And if Virgil and Deceit can learn to work with the rest of us, then I have no doubt that you can, too."

"Roman will never go for it," Remus gloomily assures him. He refuses to acknowledge the tiny blossom of warmth, way down deep in his chest, too deep to cut out. It feels suspiciously like hope.

"What Roman chooses to do is his business," Logan says. "But as for me, I fully believe that you are important to Thomas and you belong with the rest of us."

"You do?" Remus asks. Tears prickle his eyes, making him blink rapidly for a few seconds. Logan nods.

"I do," he confirms, then hesitates. "May I- may I hug you? Is that all right? Or would you prefer not-"

"Please!" Remus all but shouts over him. He quiets immediately after, acutely aware that the rest of the sides are sleeping. "Please," he repeats, softer this time.

He melts into Logan's arms, discarding his pillow to one side. Logan's arms enfold him, pouring everything he's been missing into the hug.

Remus doesn't realize he's crying until he looks down at the damp patch on Logan's shirt.

"Sorry," he apologizes, his voice thick. "I uh, got snot on you."

"It washes out," Logan says. "The others should be awake soon. I think that you should be here to meet them, while we make arrangements to move your room. I-" He pauses. "I don't want you to be alone again. I want you to stay? Will you?"

Remus swallows, his throat achingly dry. That suspiciously bright spark of hope flares to life.

"Yes," he says. His voice doesn't even shake. "Yes, I will."

tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @airiervessel @bexxbeauty @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @matthindavick @killjoy-3000 @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @littlestliu

[prettywordsyouleft]

Mr. Monday

Pairing: Park Jinwoo x reader

Genre: fluff / bar au

Warnings: none

Word count: 2420

Life worked in mysterious ways.

When you took this part-time position four months ago, you had been less than pleased that you would be working in a bar most nights. Now, you found the environment suited you well. There were nights, like tonight, where it was slower and you could study in between serving punters. And even on the nights where it was hectic with endless orders and live music blared around the trendy metropolitan establishment, you had grown accustomed to enjoying it.

You could leave the shy and awkward version of yourself at the door and enjoy the loose atmosphere whilst being paid to do so.

Still, you did prefer when you could play the music you wanted to listen to and have a quiet night to spend productively.

Or, as productive as it could be once he arrived.

Every Monday, the door would jingle at eight and you would glance up, your cheeks turning pink immediately. When his eyes found yours, he would smile graciously at you, tugging off his corporate suit jacket as he approached the bar.

And like clockwork, you would have his whiskey in a glass and placed on the counter by the time he was seated before you on a barstool. He grinned. “Ever the efficient one, aren’t you Y/N?”

“Can’t have my favourite customer go without his drink for long, now can I?” you replied as you tried not to smile giddily at the way he said your name.

“Favourite customer? Wow, I’m flattered,” he gestured and then leaned in closer. “But you can do better than that, right?”

“Jinwoo,” you breathed and he bit his bottom lip in satisfaction before lifting his drink to his lips. You turned to busy yourself for a moment to ease some of the heat you knew was residing upon your face. Glancing sideways at the man now unbuttoning the cuffs links on his shirt, you tilted your head a little. “How was your day?”

“It was long so this drink is much-appreciated, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome, Jinwoo.”

“It had become sort of a game. Who could say the other’s name more often in one night? There weren’t many people in this world who would address you so intimately every time you spoke, who put such effort into knowing your name and caressing your soul each time he uttered it. Jinwoo was unlike all the other men who walked into this bar. He treated you as if you were special, as if he came for you instead of the whiskey he cradled in his hand.

You often fooled yourself into believing that was the reason for his stellar attendance each Monday.

There was another element to the handsome man and that was how he seemed to undress from the successful CEO to someone who felt more approachable each time. His sleeves were soon rolled up to the elbows and after another sip of his drink, he popped the first four buttons of his shirt, thankfully remaining decent due to his undershirt. Still, watching Jinwoo do all this felt like a performance and you would often end up pouring yourself a cold glass of water to calm down as he arranged the glasses over the bridge of his nose.

Once appropriately relaxed, Jinwoo would chat with you. He’d ask you how university was going, offering up an office space in his building for you to use if you needed a quiet space away from your less than accommodating roommates. You would hear about deals he had made during the week or when any projects were frustrating him endlessly. Over the past four months, you had grown accustomed to sharing the evening together every Monday, Jinwoo remaining as you closed the bar up at midnight.

“You seriously don’t need to wait, Jinwoo.”

“But I do, Y/N,” he assured with a chuckle, pointing to the outside world. “It’s too late at night for a woman to walk alone to the station.”

“What a gentleman,” you gushed and Jinwoo nodded.

“I hope I am.”

“You are,” you confirmed and once you had everything in order, you turned to the man now standing up. And as usual, he slung his jacket over your shoulders, a hand pressing into the small of your back as you headed towards the exit.

Jinwoo had started walking you to the subway station after a month of knowing one another and you always wished you had more confidence out in the brisk air. Once you closed the bar’s front doors, you seemed to return to your shy, incapable of speaking three sentences in a row self.

Jinwoo never pushed you for more, merely happy enough to walk to you to the station in comfortable silence. And each time he would sigh when you handed back his jacket, looping it through one of his arms before driving his hands into his pockets. “Another night where I farewell you here, Y/N.”

“I hope you sleep well, Jinwoo,” you blurted out, blinking rapidly as you shook your head. “I meant, when you get home, that it’s not too hard to fall asleep.”

“With you on my mind, I might stay up all night,” he teased and you swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump in your throat. He chuckled and stepped closer, tenderly brushing your hair away from your forehead. He sighed again. “Sleep sweet, Y/N.”

And with that, you would depart from Jinwoo’s intoxicating grip on your heart and mind, yearning for the start of a new week to arrive again.

And it did, just like clockwork. You had the worst day leading up to your shift that you were a little flustered in the first hour at the bar, clumsily dropping a glass and shattering it on the floor right as Jinwoo arrived.

He rushed to your side as you attempted to clean it up, taking the tools out of your hands. “Let me.”

“I’m the one who works here, Jinwoo,” you mumbled, trying to reach for the dustpan and brush he had swiftly taken but he started to move as he cleaned it up.

“Yeah, well I own the place so-”

“What?” you breathed and Jinwoo snapped his focus up to you, his face flushed before he swore under his breath and continued to clean up. You merely were frozen at his side, trying to register what he meant. When Jinwoo noticed your position, he grabbed your hand, jolting you back into the world, gripping on tightly as you flinched so you didn’t lose your balance. He searched your face momentarily before smiling weakly. “Go out back and catch your breath. I’ll be there soon.”

Dazed, you nodded numbly and jarringly made your way to where he directed you to go, amazed when the man walked into the break room and out the back door as if he knew the layout of this side of the bar like the back of his hand. You blinked when he returned and reached for your hand, gently tugging you up and taking you down the corridor to the boss’s office.

You had never met the owner before; your manager had been the one to hire you. And so you had never seen the inside of this space until now, shocked when Jinwoo opened the door after punching in a code and led you in, throwing his jacket down on the back of a leather couch. After rounding the piece of furniture, he sat you both down, examining your hand closely.

“Jinwoo?”

“Mm, Y/N?”

“What is all this?” you implored, casting your gaze to your hand and then gasping.

Jinwoo smiled sadly when you noticed your small cut. “Stay here, there’s a shard of glass in there.”

Following orders, you waited until he returned with the first aid kit and his hands wrapped around yours again. For a moment, you forgot about the puzzle before you and watched as he treated the wound. Your smile grew and without thinking about it much, you reached out to his blonde locks, gently running your fingers through it. Jinwoo paused for a second, his eyes darting to yours and then back to your injury. He smiled. “We’re feeling better?”

“Maybe light-headed. I wouldn’t be so bold normally,” you murmured and he chuckled.

“I guess the surprise is enough to startle you,” Jinwoo agreed and then pasted a bandaid over your injury. He grinned. “There, almost fixed!”

“Almost?”

His lips quickly pressed to the palm of your hand, over the injury. You stilled completely, hiccupping when your shortened breath felt laboured. Jinwoo laughed heartily. “Y/N, since when were you like this?”

“Since now,” you lamented with a whine, Jinwoo grabbing the bottle of water he had carried in and handed it to you. Thanking him silently, you gulped down enough water to stop the hiccups and then grimaced. “So, you kind of own the place?”

“It’s a long story, Y/N.”

“Today’s been a long day,” you replied, sighing heavily. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s always been policy for me to check how my staff members serve the clientele. Since I’m not in the office at night, I would come in as a guise and test the newbies out. However, you were not what I expected in the slightest.”

“I wasn’t very good?”

Jinwoo shook his head. “You made me feel at home. Funnily enough, I should feel that way already since it’s my own establishment. However, the first time I encountered you, I forgot I was here to check up on you. I had too good of a time.”

He stood up then, running a hand through his hair. “So I came back the following Monday. And from there, it kind of stuck. I didn’t know how to tell you who I was when you had painted me as some fancy CEO or corporate guy, Y/N.”

“Hey!” you cried with a shake of your hand. “That’s on you! You told me you had to work on deals for your products and delegate new staff changes…”

Your argument fell flat when you realised how easily that could apply to the bar. Lowering your head, you pouted. “But you wear a suit…”

“Ah, how I look? My Dad always told me to dress to impress and that a man with a business needed a fine suit. I can see where that kind of threw you.”

“We both threw each other.”

“I’ve been honest with you, you don’t have to worry that I have led you astray, Y/N.”

“Except for the whole boss thing.”

Jinwoo nodded again. “To be fair, I didn’t want to be your boss.”

“What?”

Sitting back down next to you, Jinwoo chewed on his lip as he deliberated his next sentence. “Who wants to be the boss of someone you like? I fell harder for you by the end of every Monday night. I guess the reason I never came clean about owning the place was that I didn’t want you to think less of me. Now I’m your boss and you’re my employee. It kind of changes things in your mind, huh?”

“Does it have to?” you wondered aloud, Jinwoo looking at you in surprise. “You make my Mondays feel better than any other day of the week. I really don’t want to lose that.”

“I don’t either.”

“You’re right though, I can’t just pretend I don’t know you pay my wage each week though,” you said and Jinwoo’s expression softened.

“So don’t.”

“Jinwoo, how can we have both? It either looks like favouritism if I start dating the boss or-”

You knew he wasn’t thinking when his lips came down on yours, and you decided to join Jinwoo with uncaring in the moment, kissing him back with demand. You had fantasised about this moment all too long, wondering how soft his lips actually were. You were surprised to feel a little bit of their roughness, but it only made the moment more real for you. Kissing Jinwoo felt like you had reached another level in your little game together and you didn’t want to stop; even when you were certain he had effectively stolen your breath away.

Jinwoo pulled back regretfully, only to press his forehead into yours as he caught his breath. “You are my favourite, Y/N.”

“See, this is reason why-”

“But let’s keep Mondays how they are,” he pleaded, looking at you intensely. “I love Mondays with you.”

“Can we?” you breathed and Jinwoo nodded immediately. You smiled. “What about the other days?”

He faltered, his brows furrowing together. You giggled. “Jinwoo, you can’t kiss me and then think I’ll accept Mondays as the only day we experience this kind of connection.”

“You want to date me? Really Y/N?” His face broke out into the widest grin, unchecked and genuinely excited. “Because I’d love that.”

“I thought you might.”

“Will I still be your favourite?” he asked cheekily as he pulled back enough to cup your face in his hands. “Maybe not your favourite customer though.”

“My favourite boyfriend?”

“I feel like a teenager again, you’re making me feel too giddy,” he confessed and you giggled, nodding in agreement. “Of course, we’ll have to face the whole, boss part in this predicament. However, there are a lot of people out there dating their boss.”

“You’re painting this as a plausible picture.”

“Hey, it’s not illegal for someone to turn up off the clock to the place he owns just because there’s a really cute bartender he wants to see.”

“Some might consider that a conflict of interest, Jinwoo.”

“I only care what you think about it, Y/N,” he rebutted, waiting to see what you would say next.

Smiling, you leaned in closer. “The only type of favouritism I expect is that you only go around kissing me when my shift is over. Whilst I’m on the clock, we’re strictly business.”

“Okay, deal. But only if you let me take you home every night you work,” Jinwoo stipulated and you laughed. He shook his head. “I’m serious, I hate walking you to the station. Let me walk you up to your front door too.”

“You’re trouble, Mr. Monday.”

“I think I’m worth it, don’t you?” Jinwoo cheekily questioned and you pecked his lips lightly.

“Can I call in sick for my shift? I know it’s short notice but I don’t think I can be very productive tonight.”

“Done. Want to go on a date with me instead?” Jinwoo offered and you laughed as you nodded.

“Maybe there are perks to dating the boss.”

_________________

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[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 10

Rick was disposed of on Friday. He has been dead for three days.

Raccoon High school ~ 8:00 AM Monday

Heading to her locker, Cara found her friend already waiting for her. Claire stood leaning against the locker, bouncing a ball back and forth. She had a far-away look, chewing her bottom lip. she didn't notice Cara approach. Her mind occupied elsewhere.

Hiding behind a pillar, she spent a few minutes preparing herself for the act before the filming started. There were no second takes in real life. She had only one chance, and that was it. It was now or never. Blowing her bangs out of her face, she gripped her bag tighter and approached Claire.

Feeling cold sweat trickle down her neck, Cara tried to calm her breathing. she resisted the all-powerful urge to run in the opposite direction. She wondered if Claire figured out the truth about what her most trusted friend had done to Rick in the Arkley mountains. Claire looked bothered, and the likelihood of Rick being the reason was high.

"Hi," Cara called out with a smile that Claire matched with her own.

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna show your face around here." Cara's heart fell. She gripped her books tighter to keep them from slipping through her clammy hands. Alarms went off in her head. Did Claire know? Rick wasn't yet reported missing by his mom as she had eaten the lie up for now.

"What? Why wouldn't I?" Cara hid her grimacing face in her locker, pretending to look for something. She struggled to swallow the thickness at the back of her throat.

"Mr. Augustine is subbing in for the first period. That fucker is notorious. No one is setting foot in that class while he's in there." Claire growled, throwing her ball extra hard into the lockers across from them. The sound drew several sleep-deprived eyes for a few seconds.

The tension left Cara's shoulders, and she exhaled slowly. "I could use some normalcy in my life right now. Bad teachers are normal." Cara mumbled without thinking.

Giving her the side-eye, Claire stepped closer, caging her friend against the lockers. "Something you’re not telling me? Something definitely happened." Claire tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she regarded her friend.

Cara's mouth went slack for a moment. She racked her brain for a way out of these questions. It was hard to think through the alarms blasting in her head.

"Is it bad for me wanting things to be back to the same dull routine? Routine is safe, but what's happening around here recently isn't. Bank robbers taking hostages. And before that, the kid who drove his car into a tree and burned to death. And lastly, my runaway almost-boyfriend. I would like a week where nothing bad happens."

Cara couldn't bring herself to mention her missing parents, getting assaulted in the woods, killing someone, and the endlessly piling bills. How could she possibly say anything without digging herself a depthless hole?

"Oh yeah, Rick. So weird what happened with him. No one just up and leaves like that. Apparently, he wrote this note about going to his dad's place and left. But his mom can't get in contact with her ex-husband either." just like that, Claire backed off, and Cara was thankful.

"Maybe he got fed up with this town."

"Or maybe you smashed his heart with a nasty rejection, and all he could think of was getting the hell outta here. Shame though, you could've gotten yourself a man."

"Hey! he didn't make a move while we were alone together. Maybe you just read all the signs wrong. he was not interested in me from the start."

'Lies. Lies. Lies.' Cara screamed in her head, but on the outside, she maintained a playful expression.

"Impossible! I'm good at reading people. Like, wasn't I right about that one guy who was sniffing around my bike? He was saying he was just checking it out, but I knew he would try to steal it. Guess who ends up sitting at the back of my brother's cruiser? the view he's got now doesn't include a sky."

"That was one time," Cara scoffed, making her way to her first class.

"Your point is?" Claire raised an eyebrow, hands resting on her hips.

"My point is, your ability doesn't seem to delve deeper than surface stuff because you missed some real shit about Rick," Cara said bitterly.

"What do you mean?" Claire watched her friend with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

"Oh, you forgot to mention how funny and adorable Rick was- is. When I saw him at the trails, I was immediately hit in the head with how handsome he was. Please, keep hooking me up with great guys like that, and I'll bleed them dry with my rocking charm. They'll never know what hit em."

"don't worry, I'll find you a nice hunk to make up for our runaway boy. I'll make sure you got a date for that fundraising party they're gonna have at the station. My brother got us invites."

"That's cool. I... can’t wait," Cara said as she stood in front of the classroom.

"Are you actually going in?" Claire grabbed her friend's arm.

"Yeah, why not? one bad teacher isn't the end of the world."

"Goddammit, fine, I'm coming with you. You’re such a bad influence on me,"

"Only the best." Cara giggled but remembered the problem at hand. One of many. She turned to her friend. "Hey, Claire,"

"Yeah," Claire answered as she dug into her backpack for a pencil.

"Do you think I could stay with you for a few days?" Cara said in a low voice, her finger fiddling with a hole in her jeans.

"Fuck yes! We haven't been able to hang out for a while. In fact, Chris will really appreciate somebody staying over with me. He's been gone a lot these days, especially at night. Work isn't as clear-cut anymore. what's up though?"

"My parents are out of town. I'm scared someone might break in while I'm alone." Cara lied, grimacing internally with every word. she hated lying to her friend. Still, there was no way she could tell Claire that she is being evicted.

The rent was already late. Late for months. The landlord was already fed up and refused to give her more time. She couldn't come up with even a quarter of what was owed, and an eviction notice was posted to her door last night. With her parents still MIA, she couldn't save her home. While it wasn't the happiest place on earth, she grew up there and had some fond memories amongst all the bad ones. The staircase was her favorite place to play as a child. She would meet up with the other kids there, and they would play for hours while their giggles and shouts echoed floors below. It was a time of innocence, moments of joy away from their abusive homes.

"Girl, I'll protect you. Come on over whenever. You don't even need to ask." Claire giggled, balancing the pencil on her nose and crossing her eyes. "Claire bear will take good care of you."

"Thanks, Claire, you the best," Cara meant every word. This was the only truthful thing she had said in this conversation.

----------------------------- 4 PM

On her way to the bus stop, Cara made a mental list of all the things she should pack from home. This was likely the last time she will be setting foot there. Obviously, she couldn't take any furniture, not that anything was worth more than curbside pickups.

Just as Cara reached the bus stop, a light drizzle of rain began. It reminded her of that night. The night she had the misfortune of meeting the infamous captain of the STARS. While she had seen and experienced some horrible things since meeting him, nothing was directly his doing. Those hitmen would have tried to kidnap Sherry, Rick would have tried to rape her, and her parents would have left whether or not she had met him. He helped her several times, and she had to acknowledge that he may be an ally she could trust. But he still had control over her life which frustrates her.

Stepping into the bus shelter, an advertisement caught her attention. Cara approached the poster, her eyes skimming over the print with increasing interest.

Participants wanted for clinical trials at Raccoon General Hospital to test the efficacy of a new drug. Each participant will be paid a starting amount of 900$ at the beginning of the study if selected. More details will be provided after the extensive selection process. All interested parties must complete an application and submit it to the secretary of Dr. Sandford on the third floor of Raccoon general hospital, room 312.

The money stood out to Cara, so much so that she walked out into the rain with a destination in mind. The money wasn't much, but it could help her get by for at least a month or so. she needed a little booster until she could sort out a job. She couldn't survive just on babysitting, especially since the Birkins hadn't called her at all this week. They've been too quiet, and she was starting to miss Sherry.

---------------

With dripping hair and drenched clothes sticking to her like a second skin, Cara finished filling in her details while the clipboard rested on her thighs. Using the number of the phone Wesker had given her, she filled out her contact information.

The rain had not let up, only coming down harder. It was soothing to hear the rain periodically hitting the windows. She was the only person in Dr. Sandford's waiting room until the secretary sauntered back in and rolled her caked eyes at Cara.

"Still here? Oh, take your time its not like I enjoy staying back past my shift. You must be something desperate. Why don't you visit one of them shelters, you know, the ones for troubled runaway teens." she said through loud, open-mouthed gum chewing. A generous amount of red lipstick coated her front teeth. It was a wonder how she did not taste it.

"All done!" Cara chirped, skipping to the secretary's desk. She slid the clipboard over the counter with a big smile earning her another eye-roll. she could almost feel the cash already in her hands, and nothing could dampen her mood. Making her way to the door, Cara hoped she would be selected for the study.

"Oh? so you do have a home. But on that side of town. It might as well be a cardboard box in a back alley." the secretary snickered as she looked over Cara's application, twirling her Coiffured hair. She held the form carelessly, pulling out the piece of gum in her mouth and sticking it on the corner of the paper.

All Cara wanted to do was walk up to the older woman's face and smack the smug look off her face while screaming every profanity she could think of. Instead, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and gave a generous squeeze. Water spilled all over the polished white floors. "Sorry, I can't afford to catch a cold."

----------------------------

Cara sat curled up on a couch next to Claire, a cozy blanket laid over them. The only light in the room was the flashing of the T.V as shots were fired. Half the popcorn in the bowl was on the floor as they kept tossing the kernels in each other's mouths and missing every single time.

"I gotta go pee, be right back," Claire declared before hopping over the back of the couch and jogging to the bathroom. Pausing the movie, Cara stood up to stretch.

As Cara started clearing the popcorn mess, her phone rang. She knew it could only be Wesker or Dr. Sandford calling. Without wasting time, she stumbled off the couch to grab her phone off the coffee table. in her hast, she ended up sending it sliding beneath the couch. "Fuck!" she hissed.

Peeking below, she couldn't see it. Using all her strength, she flipped the couch over to reveal her phone sitting in a pile of dust. She didn't recognize the caller's number and squealed. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call.

"Hello?" her voice shook, hands clammy. Short of breath, she had to remind herself to breathe.

"This is the FBI. We are calling regarding an arrest warrant made for you." A young boy spoke. He couldn't be older than her.

"Oh yeah?" Cara clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. These little fuckers chose the worst time to mess with her.

"Have no worries, Miss. We can have all the charges withdrawn from your record. But first, we need you to confirm your social insurance number for us."

"Oh, sure. It begins with....1234 go fuck yourself," hanging up, Cara covered her face with her hands. she felt stupid for worrying over something that turned out to be a prank call.

While she enjoyed hanging out with her best friend, the wait was slowly killing her. She wanted to do something about her situation ASAP but was stuck watching the rented movie Claire nagged about all day. What calmed her nerves a little was that Claire had agreed to go job hunting with her the next day.

Cara fixed the couch and threw herself on it with a sigh, tossing the phone beside her. Leaning back, Cara rested her head and closed her eyes.

Her eyes flew open as the phone rang again, with another unknown number. With an eye roll, Cara answered. "Listen, you little shits. Find someone else to-"

"I guess your mother was too busy snorting drugs to teach you any respect. I suppose you weren't desperate for the money after all," Cara recognized the secretary's haughty voice, her eyes widening like saucers. She mouthed a half dozen curses before collecting herself.

"I am so sorry, mam! someone was prank calling-"

"Did I ask? Despite you being such a low grad choice, you've been selected. I have no idea what low standards the doctor has that he will take just about anyone. Come to the same place Wednesday at 6 PM sharp and don't be late."

"Thank you. Thank you!" Cara cried, bouncing on the couch.

"It's only 900$," With a click of her tongue, the secretary hung up.

Claire came back from the bathroom and watched with raised brows as her friend bounced around. Not knowing what her friend was happy about, Claire joined her in jumping on the couch. Together they broke into a fit of hysterical giggling. She was glad to see her friend less troubled.

-----------------------------

Cara sat in a small crowd of twelve selected participants around a meeting room at the hospital. She was the first to arrive, eager to remedy her situation as soon as possible with the soon-to-be easy cash in her hands.

"During the experiment, you will be required to stay in an assigned room. Contact with the outside is strictly prohibited. Until we state otherwise. Many competitors out there will do anything to steal our research. As such, actions will be taken to prevent any and all data leaks. My team of researchers will monitor all medication's administration, and You may not refuse any doses given." Cara and several others scoffed at the scientist, Dr. Stanford.

Grey-haired, tall, and plump with dark skin, this man was the definition of sketchy. His ambitious eyes were calculating as they hardly spent time on each individual. His clothes and lab coat were immaculate, crisply pressed.

"Hey, I am not trying to be a lab rat for big pharma here," A man yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. His clothes were worn, hair disheveled and dirty.

"You will receive your initial payment of 900$ now and then $2000 at the conclusion of the study. Any questions?" No one else spoke up. No complaints. Everyone's eyes gleamed with the prospect of additional money in their pockets. Cara couldn't deny how lucrative the amount was despite the sketchy situation.

The study would last only three days. Three days of absolutely no contact with the outside. Three days and she would have $2900 in her hands. It was good to be true.

---------------------

30 min earlier.

Wesker stood at the loading area behind the hospital, leaning against the wall. Behind his shades, he watched as the two men loaded his cruiser with boxes of donated medical supplies. Once they were finished, the men returned inside.

Under the guise of checking over the contents of the boxes, Wesker peered inside to locate the reason he was here in the first place, A yellow folder of classified information about the newest test subjects. The job was clear. He would wipe any traces left by the research project and prevent any future missing person cases from being fruitful. Without opening the folder, he placed it back in the box and closed the trunk. Trust Umbrella to begin the cleanup operation before the first injection was administered. They like to cover all their bases.

With his hand on the door handle, Wesker paused. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't figure it out. Taking cover behind the car, he took out his gun, surveying the rooftops for a sniper. He waited several minutes, yet nothing happened.

Seeing no danger to himself, he lowered his gun back to its holster. There was no visible threat, yet he couldn't shake off the sense of danger. Frowning, Wesker wondered if Umbrella's paranoia was getting to him.

Making his way into the hospital, he began a search but didn't know what he was looking for.

Something was very wrong.

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 15

Warnings: language, literally zero editing

Word count: 3k

A/N: Wow I’m back to updating this story??? A million years later?? I am so sorry to anyone who was following this - but if you’re still reading and still interested, here’s an update! God as my witness, I will finish this. I actually have more ideas and inspiration for where the story’s going now - plus we’re all getting quarantined, so these WIPs have never had a better chance of getting done. Anyways, here it goes! Please let me know what you think! 

The lone monitor beeped steadily, plaintively, in the early morning quiet of the hospital room. Air rattled through the breathing machine, filling unknowing lungs over and over. A starched white blanket was pulled up to his chest, covering most of the bandages wrapped around his torso from the hours of emergency surgery. His left arm was already in a cast and laid on top of the blanket, resting against his stomach. 

Natasha felt sick.

And angry. 

How could she have been so stupid? Acting like a goddamn rookie, for starters, and running to Nick to fix their situation - letting things get out of hand with the Avengers, failing to convince Y/N to get out of here before things got bad. And they were only going to get worse. 

If Nick had been identified, then they were all in danger. And there was no fucking way, to her mind, that he couldn’t have been I.D.’d. This wasn’t a random accident, regardless of whatever the hell the local police wanted to write on the incident report. It was an attack, a warning. First blood. 

Her knee bounced in her seat by the bed, plastic upholstery squeaking with every shift in her weight. She chewed her nails - a habit she thought she had finally managed to kick. A tall nurse, dark curls piled into a bun on top of her head, came in to check Nick’s vitals; she was quiet, efficient, offering Nat a sympathetic smile. 

“If you need anything, just contact the nurse’s station, ok?” Her pink bubblegum, tucked in the back corner of her mouth, was visible when she talked. “And there’s a coffee machine around the corner, in case you need your fix before the cafeteria opens up.”

Nat nodded her thanks as the woman slipped out of the room, her white nursing clogs creaking a little, not yet broken in. 

The sky outside the window continued to brighten, a clear and cold winter morning; she wasn’t sure how long she stared at him before she decided to have that coffee after all. Massaging her temples, she shuffled down the hallway towards the flickering glow of the machine. Her boots echoed on the tiles in the empty hall, the low hum of the coffee machine filling the little alcove near the elevators. It whirred and hissed and spat out her coffee into a blue paper cup with slow, deliberate drips. 

How had she let it get this far? What was she going to do without him? And who the hell could she trust? She winced as the first sip of coffee burned her tongue. It wasn’t as though she didn’t trust the team…but she’d gone to Nick in the first place because they were no longer being objective - Barnes especially, and Rogers was only enabling him. 

Her eyes on the waxed linoleum floor, she barely noticed him standing outside the door of the hospital room. Steve squared his shoulders, directly in front of her, his eyebrows tilted at a thunderous angle. 

“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on here?” he gritted out, the hoarse edge of his voice scraping in his throat. 

Nat didn’t answer, not right away. Instead, she let him stew in the boil of his righteous anger, air tightening between them. The coffee had cooled a bit, but left a funny taste in her mouth - the flavor mixed badly with the mints she’d been sucking on an hour ago. The muscles in her neck and back ached from hunching by Nick’s bed all night, and she arched a little on her feet, stretching and flexing, though the early morning tightness never quiet left her muscles. 

Finally, when the flare of Steve’s nostrils told her he was on the verge of making a scene, she gestured toward the door with her coffee cup. 

“Why don’t you head in there and see for yourself?”

Clenching his jaw, Steve turned and let himself into the hushed dimness of the hospital room. He filled the doorway - he filled most doorways - and from behind Natasha wished he could march into this and save the day, the way he always wanted to. At the foot of the bed, he stopped and rested a hand on the mobile tray waiting there, now cleared of the uneaten food from last night. His mouth turned further down, matching the turn of his eyes as he watched the sleeping man tucked into crisp hospital linens. After all these years, I was so strange to see Nick this way - weak, still, not in command. It shook something loose inside of him, but he tamped it down, cracking the knuckles of his fist. 

“You know who did this?” he said, his voice a low growl under the tone of the monitors. Behind him, Nat closed the door with a soft click. 

“Of course I do - don’t you?” She slipped behind him, sipping from her coffee, and took up her chair by the bed again. 

Big hands curling and uncurling, Steve remained silent. From her spot in the squeaky hospital chair, Nat watched the slant of his profile, reading the rage in every line. 

“Rumlow is dead,” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

“But not the rest of them.”

“Without a leader? They’re just a bunch of thugs.” Steve shook his head. “There’s someone else pulling the strings - someone smarter.” He nodded towards Nick’s prone body. “Someone who knew about Nick. Maybe about all of us.”

Natasha nodded slowly, one finger tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Usually she enjoyed being right. 

Steve scrubbed at his face with his hands, blowing a harsh breath past his lips. He turned away from the hospital bed and paced along the edge of the room, towards the window. With the thin curtain drawn, pale sunlight cast shadows beneath his eyes, sharped the noble angle of his nose. HE never dreamed they’d be standing here, years deep in a life built on lies and duty. Fresh from the army, him and Buck, and no plans - that’s when Sam approached them. Intelligence work, a chance to do something important, to keep fighting the good fight on the home front. 

“They’re all in danger.” Natasha’s voice scraped at the edges of her throat. “You know that, Steve.” 

“I know.”

“It’s time.” He turned to look at her, bits of hair falling from her ponytail to frame her face. Bits of mascara had smudged underneath her eyes, bloodshot and heavy. 

“Make the call,” Steve said, looking back towards the window. “Get Pierce if you have to. It’ll piss off Stark to go over his head, but I’m not worried about his ego.”

Nat licked her lower lip, tracing the chapped skin. 

“What about Barnes and his girlfriend?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the arm of her chair. “I can’t see him being eager to burst their happy little bubble.”

Steve sighed through his nose, crossing his huge arms across his chest. The monitors beeped a lonely rhythm behind him. 

“I”ll handle Bucky. Just get everything ready - make all the arrangements. Do what you have to do.” 

  ***********                                                                                                  

“So for dinner, I’m thinking…we still have that spaghetti squash in the fridge? I could whip up some kind of sauce to go with it…” she peaked her head up over the door of the fridge. “Sound good to you, Buck?” 

Startled, Bucky’s head popped up from his phone. 

“Uh, yeah sure,” he said, ducking back down and resuming the rapid movement of his thumb. 

With a frown, Y/N hip-checked the door closed, bottles rattling inside. 

“Are you listening to me, Bucky Barnes?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the fridge. 

He looked up again - a well-developed sense of self-preservation kicked in when he caught that dangerous glint in her eyes. 

“Yes - yes, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sighed, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Whatever you want for dinner is good - I’m fine with the spaghetti squash.”

She was never so easily distracted. 

“What was so interesting?” she nodded his direction. “You’ve been glued to that thing all afternoon.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, rounding the edge of the counters to approach her in the kitchen. Soft hands reached for her hips, reeling her in closer, sharing heat and heartbeats. The scent of his cologne drifted up on the air between them - spicy, warm, just subtle enough to remain sexy. He leaned in close and pressed his lisp to her forehead, devoted and sweet, and always properly apologetic. 

“I”m sorry, baby,” he said, squeezing her waist softly. “It’s just Steve-”

“Steve?” She looked up at him with a frown, neat little line forming between her brows. “Steve has been blowing up your phone?”

“Yeah, I know.” He shook his head. “It sounds like total bullshit, but I swear that’s all.”

“What’s going on with Steve?” 

Bucky sucked in a deep slow breath, hoping to hide his hesitation. Their “club business” had always taken first place, first priority…the job came first. The job was important. They were saving lives, putting away criminals. But now his girl was pouting at him in the kitchen, and he’s so tired, so goddamn tired all of a sudden - of all of it. Of being a public servant or a hero or whatever the hell. Of duty. He wants to pack it all up and just start driving. Move back to the city - or hell, even the suburbs would be nice. He’d take Y/N to Sunday dinner at his mom’s place; they’d move in together, and Y/N could decorate just how she wanted, and he’d sweat over rearranging the furniture and complain about trips to fuckin’ Ikea and all the other stuff that normal boyfriends got to do. In this moment, this inhale, he tasted it all, the life they could have. A dream they could build, together. 

And all he had to do was come clean. About all of it. 

In the space of an exhale, he faced it. He wanted this. It was on the tip of his tongue. 

And then the next breath. 

“Just club stuff,” he shrugged, feeling the weight of the lie dropping on her. “There’s…been a little drama between the members lately. Nothin’ for you to worry about.” 

With another kiss to her forehead, he turned away and opened the fridge. 

“I’ll put that spaghetti squash in this afternoon if you want me to,” he offered. “That way it’ll be ready when you get off work. Sound good?” 

Y/N nodded mutely, pressing her lips into a smile. She had to admit it was nice having a boyfriend who was mildly competent in the kitchen. 

“Okay, well, I’ve got to get in to the clinic,” she sighed, checking her watch. “Shit! I’ll be late.” Swinging her bag and lab coat over her shoulder, she gave him a final peck on the lips before bolting to the door. 

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Bucky called from the kitchen. 

“Too cold!” was her reply - and then she was out the door. 

Bucky stared at the closed door for a moment, one hip leaned against the counter, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He just needed some time. Just a little more time to sort all this out. And then he’d tell her - the whole truth. Everything. And after, they could have a life together, something real, something safe, a home. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Steve again. 

Call me. Now.

Even as he rolled his eyes at Steve’s flare for the dramatic, a little tremor seized Bucky’s heart. Dread hovered in the back of his mind as he swiped his thumb and dialed Steve’s number. 

This could only go badly.

  **********                                                                                                  

One breath.

Inhale to exhale. That was how long it took for him to lie to her. 

Cold fingers wrapped tight around the steering wheel, it was all she could think about. It scared the hell out of her, whatever it was he tried to hide in that breath, whatever he decided to keep from her. He’d never done that before…or had he? Did she know? Would she know? Would she be able to tell? 

Calm down, Y/N. You’re overreacting. She lectured herself, cranking the heat in her car to a higher setting. A top 40 song, thumping beat and repeated lyrics, hummed faintly on the radio; she was running late enough that the morning talk show had already ended, moving on to the daily shuffle of hits and local business commercials. It all went unheard in the worried circle of her thoughts. 

What could he have to hide? Unbidden, her mind flooded with horrible possibilities, every possible answer to that question, and each more horrible than the last. Was he cheating? Another woman was responsible for the constant barrage of text messages pinging his phone? Bucky was handsome, not to mention clever, flirtatious, romantic; she had no doubt he could get any woman he wanted. But his attention and affection for her hadn’t waned - just this weekend he’d planned a beautiful dinner for the two of them, followed by a homemade cheesecake he had slaved over for dessert, and then well…he was certainly still eager in the bedroom. The warning signs just weren’t there. 

So what else? He’d never been secretive about the club before. Avengers business was Avengers business, but he’d never lied to her about it. It turned her stomach sour, and she regretted having those pancakes this morning, the cloying smell of syrup still on her hands making her want to pull over and vomit on the side of the road. 

She knew she was working herself up, letting her mind run amuck, but she couldn’t stop herself. By the time she pulled her car into the parking lot of the clinic, she’d half made up her mind to turn right around, go home, and confront him. The image of herself, half-crazy with ideas of secret affairs or violence or drugs, marching into the house and accusing him of lying - it stopped her short.

God, why am I losing my shit over this? Y/N dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, the car idling in the lot, warm and safe from the harsh winter morning. She’d dealt with shitty men before, she’d survived bad boyfriends. It was impossible to make it very long as a woman without that experience. And yet, somehow, the memory of that paled in comparison to the devastating knowledge that Bucky was lying to her. 

You love him. Oh god, she did, she loved him - she was in love with him. 

She hurried out of the car and into the clinic, preferring to bury herself in wellness checks and vaccines and the flu than to keep thinking on it. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the reception desk, Charlotte stopped her before she could get to her office.

“Oh! You’re needed at the county hospital today.” She handed Y/N the note, written on robin’s egg blue stationary. 

“I’m sorry? Why?” Y/N squinted at the note, a handwritten scribble. Charlotte shrugged. 

“No real explanation - but the chief surgeon said that they could use an extra set of hands with all the flu cases they’ve got coming in.” She took a sip from her travel mug. “I’ve heard they’re a little overwhelmed down there, since they’re the closest treatment for a lot of people in the county.” 

Y/N sighed, looking back out to her car. She hadn’t planned to drive the extra mileage out to the hospital today; not to mention it would probably make her late coming back for dinner tonight. Digging in her purse, she grabbed her phone and shot off a quick text to Bucky, explaining the change. 

“Alright then,” she huffed, placing her purse back on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave to Charlotte and the other nurses, she was back out the door and heading to her car. This time around, she turned the radio up loud, singing along and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel and not thinking about this morning, or her own life, or anything at all. 

    **********                                                                                                   

At the hospital, she was assigned to make rounds for one of their physicians who had called in sick. Simple enough. The elevator ride up was quiet, new nurses and doctors all quiet and polite, but holding down their conversations in the presence of a stranger. 

She started on the third floor recovery ward, making her way down the hall door by door. Bedside manner was always one of her strengths; she could charm most patients with just a few words, breezing through her examinations and questions with ease. Chalk it up to customer service experience, but even the difficult patients usually treated her with gruff politeness, the insistence of her friendly manners forcing them to match with their own. Room by room, she checked charts and asked about pain levels and wrote prescriptions, the morning passing by in hours of sterile white tile and the smell of hand sanitizer. 

Turning a corner onto the next ward, she was just looking up from her clipboard when she caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of red ducking into a doorway. Y/N hurried her steps, her cadence almost a jog as she tried to catch-

“Natasha?” She knew that hair, the back of her jacket, the set of her shoulders. 

Nat was standing in the door of the hospital room, propping it open with one arm, head turned over her shoulder to stare at Y/N with weary eyes. Her face was pale, scrubbed clean of makeup, the bright baby hairs around her face twisting in tight little curls. At the sight of Y/N, she quirked the corner of her mouth up in an attempt at a smile, but it only managed to make her look more strained and exhausted. 

“What are you doing here?” Y/N went on when she didn’t get an answer. Her eyes cut past Natasha to the dim fluorescence of the room behind her. “Is everything okay?” 

Nat stared for another moment, her lips pressed tight together, jaw working back and forth. The hand she held on the door was curled in a small, tight fist, the peaks of her pale knuckles standing out against the long sleeve of her hoodie. Then, still silent, she stepped aside, gesturing for her friend to enter. 

“Come in,” she said hoarsely. “We need to talk.” 

[meganshinsou-tm]

two peas in a pod. (f)

☙ pairing: izuku x reader

☙ theme:  pro hero/expecting father deku

☙  cw/tw: profanity, mentions of sex, fluff pure fluff, dad deku, domestic, yukio midoriya*

☙  a/n-request: after re-watching BNHA one day and seeing baby deku, i felt compelled to give him his own adorable own mini me.

“P-p-pregnant!”

Deku’s emerald eyes were wide with shock, his hands waving in the air as he continued to sputter and full on panic. Sweat was crossing his brow and his freckled cheeks turned red.

“B-but how?”

You smiled and ran a hand through Deku’s unruly green hair before grabbing and rubbing his shoulders to try and calm him. The hero took a few deep breaths as he walked back and sat against the big oak desk in his office. His index finger tugged at the collar of his hero suit as the other fanned himself.

“Izu, you and I both know how it happened,” you chimed quietly and cupped his cheek, tilting his face up to look at you.

There was no possible way for the hero’s face to get redder but like always he proved you wrong. A yelp came from his mouth as he hid his face in giant scarred hands, a fucking yelp! Even at over 6 ft. and a hulking 200+ pounds, Izuku Midoriya could still become a mumbling trembling mess from embarrassment. As always it was adorable.

“Oh, oh man, y-yeah … of course,” he blushed harder before feeling you taking his hands away from his face.

“I can’t imagine what’s going on in your head right now and I’m sorry to just barge in on you here at work but … I just couldn’t wait to tell you, maybe I should’ve waited till you got home -”

The heart in Izuku’s chest dropped and he gasped, realizing how his reaction probably wasn’t what you were hoping for. Man he could be so dumb sometimes, letting his over-dramatic tendencies get in the way at the worst of times!

“No, no, no! I-I’m sorry sweetheart, that wasn’t how I meant to react … I mean I don’t know how to react. We’ve never talked about this, how are you feeling?”

You shrugged, holding Izuku’s hands and looking down at them.

“Well, I feel a little nauseous and tired but that’s normal, other than that I don’t know? You’re right we’ve never talked about, well kids. To be honest on my way here I thought about how I didn’t even know myself if I want kids or if you want kids. I actually cried, I was worried, scared.”

Izuku wrapped his fingers around your hands, securing them tightly in his hold with a reassuring squeeze.

“I mean a kid is a lot of responsibility Izu, it’s an entire other small human whose life we’re responsible for, not like I don’t believe we can’t manage but it’s a lot of work. A lot of time, patience, sleepless nights and long hours. You being a hero, having a kid … I don’t want that to be too much for you is all.”

Too much? Izuku chewed on the inside of his cheek, the sting of tears brimming his eyes.

You were thinking of him, despite what you were saying, the underlying point is that you were thinking of him - before yourself. You, the one with this lifeform developing inside of you, the one whose body would be going through changes to accommodate to that, all while he would just be there. Izuku may have been a self-sacrificing person but he was no competition when it came to you.

“Hey,” Izuku spoke softly and cupped your cheek that fit perfectly in his massive hand, “Forget about my job. For you I’d quit and leave this place without a single regret if that’s what you wanted. Forget about this being too much for me and think if it’ll be too much for you. Baby - you’re the one who would be carrying this child for 9 months, not me. If this is something you want, know that I’ll be there every step of the way to take care of you, make sure you don’t miss a single doctors appointment, rub your back and feet when you need it, get you weird foods at ungodly times, I’ll take off work whenever you need me to. I don’t need these people, this agency, I just need you! I need you happy and healthy, I need you to put yourself first this time. I love you so much with my entire heart and soul, no matter what you choose.”

Your eyes blinked at the hero, tears starting to stream down them and teeth chewing on your lip as you nervously nodded.

“With you … yes, if it’s not too much to ask. Together I know we could do it.”

Izuku smiled, sniffling as he cried softly as well and held your small face in his hands, leaning in and placing a kiss to your lips that was so full of love and joy. Your hands held onto his wrists, standing on the tips of your toes to deepen the action with a growing smile before parting and pressing your foreheads together.

“You could never ask too much of me sweetheart. I’ll do anything, get anything, be anything just for you,” Izuku hummed as he placed a hand on your hip and let his thumb brush over your stomach. “And our baby.”

Did Izuku cry at the birth of his bouncing baby boy? You bet he did, way more than you in fact. When the nurses handed him over into the hero’s arms the waterworks were unstoppable.

“He’s so small! I want to hug him but I’ll probably crush him, how will I ever be able to love my own baby if I crush him!”

You giggled thinking about the day as you loaded the washing machine full of clothes, watching as Izuku and Yukio played heroes and villains in the living room. In your husband’s hand was a Godzilla toy, your son held a Ground Zero and Shouto action figure in both of his own tiny palms with a menacing smile on his face that matched the one of Izuku’s fellow work partner.

“Die, die, die!” Yukio yelled with all his might, green unruly locks like that of his father’s bouncing in front of matching green eyes.

The kid was an exact copy of Izuku, just more freckles. His personality was brave and unwavering, there was no fear in his little body whatsoever. He’d climb the furniture and stand at the highest points with his arms flexed out and yell, “I am here, prepare to die!” Just a little mesh of Izuku and his Uncle Kat’s famous phrases. 

The greenette had no idea where his own son’s unabashed spitfire bravery came from, being that when he was a toddler himself he was the exact opposite. Maybe some of it came from you, you could be sassy and a lot to handle at times but Yukio took that to another level.

However though, your kid had his sweet and precious moments that were no doubt all from his dad. He had the same adorable looks, his passion for hero’s or anything else he was interested in was just as fanboy-ish. Of course Izuku encouraged all those things, he never wanted his son to be ashamed of himself but for him to have that burning desire to fulfill his dreams and become whatever he wanted to be. There was nothing that could stop his son but himself.

You walked back into the living room, catching Yukio running and jumping on top of his father with a war cry and releasing his action figures. Izuku laughed and caught the toddler with ease, hugging him close and tickling his sides as he attacked every last freckle on his cheeks with kisses. 

So much for being scared of crushing his own kid anymore, now Izuku was a confident father, a wonderful one, more than you could ever ask for.

The two rolled around on the floor laughing and rough housing, they were plain and simple boys to their core and you could never get enough of watching the two interact. Finally, sitting up and crossing his legs, Izuku grabbed Yukio from under his arms and tossed him up into the air as if he weighed nothing, the boy giggled, eliciting a high pitched squeal as he was caught safely in big protective scarred arms. Izuku smiled a lot before but now, it’s as if the smile never left his face, it was permanent. Brushing back his son’s hair, the hero kissed his forehead sweetly. Emerald eyes sparkled at emerald eyes before both sets were looking at you.

“Hey mama,” both voices spoke in sweet and happy unison.

[particularemu]

68 & 86 with hyunjin pls 🥺

Prompts: 68 (He’s four years old!!) and 86 (Am I scaring you?)

Word Count: 2090

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for requesting. I had fun with this one :) 

Send in a number!

----------

Hyunjin was having a bad day. 

Not the kind of day that can be fixed with a cuddly movie night either. No — this was the kind of day that would probably leave him in a sour mood until he was ready to turn in for the night. 

Despite the sour mood Hyunjin was in, he couldn’t help but be excited to go home to his family. You and his son Taemin were the light of his life, and he was positive seeing you two would lift his mood. 

Hyunjin sighed when the elevator opened, leaving him in front of the door to your apartment. After entering the pin code, he stepped inside, smiling when he saw you and Taemin cooking in the kitchen. 

You were chopping onions, holding an unlit matchstick between your teeth to keep the onions fumes from making your eyes tear up. It always made him laugh to see you chop onions with a matchstick between your lips. 

Taemin was propped up on the counter, happily stirring — what he assumed to be noodles — in a large pot. Every once in a while he’d stir really fast and say, “Cook noodles cook!” 

It took a minute for Taemin to notice that Hyunjin was home, but when he did, he frantically pointed towards the door saying “Daddy’s home! Mama, daddy’s home!” 

Hearing his son be so excited to see him made Hyunjin’s heart swell. Being an idol with a family wasn’t easy, but times like these made it worth the trouble. 

Your head snapped up, a bright smile taking over your features when you saw him. You spit out the matchstick before blowing him a kiss. “Hey baby.” 

“Daddy! We’re making your favorite!” Taemin sat on the counter, stirring the noodles in the large pot with a ladle. 

“Is that right?” Hyunjin ruffled his son’s hair before giving you a peck on the lips. “How’s the little chef doing?”

“He’s been stirring those noodles like a pro.” You chuckled, leaning forward to give Hyunjin a kiss on the cheek. “How was practice?”

Hyunjin threw his head back, a deep sigh escaping his chest as his head lolled to the side, a slight pout forming at his lips. “Not so good.” 

You could see the day’s struggles in his body language. His eyes held the same sparkle they always did, but you could see a twinge of exhaustion and worry in those brown eyes. His nails were shorter, showing that he’d been chewing on them. It was a habit he picked up as a kid — something he did when he was stressed. You wanted nothing more than to take all his worries away, but sadly, there wasn’t much you could do. 

“That bad?” You stopped chopping onions, setting the knife on the table so you could wrap your arms around your husbands waist — without the danger of stabbing him in the side. 

Hyunjin leaned his head down into the crook of your neck, a soft “mmhmm” whispered into your shoulder. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ran your fingers through his hair, pausing to scratch lightly at the base of his neck. You couldn’t help but smile when you felt the shivers travel up his spine. Hyunjin always loved it when you played with his hair. 

“If you keep doing that I’ll tell you everything.” He chuckled, arms wrapping around your waist. 

“Hold on. Let me get our child away from the burning stove.” You giggled, pulling away from your husband to set Taemin on the floor. “Go play bub. Your father and I are going to talk for a little bit.” 

“Ok mommy.” He smiled and skipped off to the living room. 

You couldn’t help but smile as Taemin grabbed a rope toy and started to play tug-of-war with Kkami and your pomeranian. The boy was tugging gently on the toy, before letting go to let the dogs win. His happy giggles echoed in the room as he played with the dogs. 

“Now that our child is occupied, what’s up?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping the small act of affection could ease his worries. 

“Jisung and I got into it pretty good today.” Hyunjin sighed, eyes drifting shut as guilt filled his brain. “I thought he was messing up the choreo to our new song, but —” 

BAM!

Your eyes widened as you glanced over the marble countertop. Taemin had started a game of keep away with the dogs. He was running left and right, giggling loudly as he held the ball over his head. Taemin climbed up the couch, hoping the height would give him an advantage, but the dogs hopped up onto the furniture. He let out a loud giggle and hopped off the couch, landing on his heels with a loud THUD!

This wouldn’t be a problem if you lived in a small house in the countryside. But no — you lived on the 5th floor of an apartment complex. Your apartment happened to be above a grumpy elderly couple who didn’t like kids. Hyunjin was particularly sensitive when Taemin was too loud because he hoped one day, you guys would get along. 

You could see Hyunjin cringe when Taemin jumped once more. “Taemin. Be quiet baby. We have people living downstairs.” You called to him, hoping he’d listen as usual, but you knew he was just trying to get his father’s attention. 

“Yes mommy.” Taemin replied, dropping the ball and opting for a game of tug-of-war with Kkami instead. 

You rubbed Hyunjin’s arm, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you urged him to continue. “Sorry. Go ahead.” 

“I didn’t sleep well last night. I guess I was a little bit irritable.” Hyunjin sighed once more. “I told him he was doing it wrong and he immediately got pissed off.” 

BAM!

Hyunjin closed his eyes, head leaning back as he tried to control his frustration. Your heart panged in your chest as you called out to your son once more. “Taemin. What did I say?”

Taemin was normally so well behaved, but he’s been acting out lately. At first you couldn’t place the reason why he’s been such a pill, but you started noticing it happened a lot more when Hyunjin was home. 

Hyunjin being an idol means he’s constantly away, and you knew that. Hyunjin leaves for tours, he’s gone from 5 AM to 8 PM nearly every day, and he only has one day off to spend with his family each week. Over the years you dated, you got used to this lifestyle. Unfortunately you didn’t realize the impact this had on your son, until recently. 

“I just tripped.” Taemin’s little voice shook you out of your thoughts. Guilt replacing your frustration immediately. 

“Ok, just be more careful.” You called out. 

“Ok mommy!”  

You took Hyunjin’s hand in yours, rubbing your thumb along his knuckles. “Sorry. Go on.” 

“Where was I?” Hyunjin’s brow creased as he attempted to remember where he was in his rant. 

You chuckled a bit. “Jisung got pissed.” 

“Oh yeah.” Hyunjin’s facial expression softened as he played with your hand while talking. “We got into a big argument. Chan had to break it up. Minho ended up telling me that I’ve been doing the choreo wrong the whole time.” 

“Oh no.” You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. Hyunjin doesn’t like to fight with anyone, let alone his group members. He must feel so guilty. 

“I was in my head the rest of practice. I couldn’t seem to get the choreo right.” Hyunjin let go of your hand to run his hand through his hair. “On top of that, I forgot the lyrics for a couple of our songs while we were recording.” 

BAM!

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hyunjin mumbled before snapping, “Taemin, knock it off.”  

Taemin immediately stopped what he was doing, tears gathering in his eyes as Hyunjins “scary voice” echoed in the room. That tone of voice almost never came out, but when it did Taemin was quick to listen to his father. The only times you’ve ever heard Hyunjin yell at your son was when his life was in danger. 

“Hey, that’s not necessary.” Your mama bear side came out as you placed yourself between Hyunjin and Taemin. Not that you thought Hyunjin would ever hurt your son — no far from it — you just didn’t want Taemin to see his father in such a mood. 

You could see pure rage in Hyunjin’s eyes as he turned to you. “You’ve told him 3 times to quit jumping. We have neighbors downstairs. He can’t be doing this.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff, “Are you kidding me? Hyunjin he’s four years old!!” You crossed your arms over your chest. “He’s just playing with the dogs.” 

“Our neighbors must love us.” 

Hyunjin’s sarcastic tone made your blood boil. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Your brow creased. “I don’t let him make a ton of noise all day. If you were ever here, you’d know that.” 

Ooooh that stung. 

Hyunjin knew that being away was taking its toll on his family, but he didn’t realize you were so upset about it. 

“You think I want to be gone all the time?” Hyunjin was beyond pissed. “I’m doing my JOB.” 

“Daddy, please don’t hurt mommy.” 

What?

Hyunjin paused, all previous anger melted away at the sound of his son’s voice. Pure guilt panged through his chest as he looked over to Taemin, who was huddled on the couch hugging Kkami as tight as he could without hurting the pup. 

“Am I scaring you?” Hyunjin’s heart nearly shattered as Taemin buried his face in Kkami’s fur. Hyunjin slowly walked over to the couch and kneeled down to his son’s level to ruffle his hair, coaxing a small smile from the boy. “I would never hurt you or mommy.” 

“Okay good. I know she can be… you know… but we should love her anyway.” Taemin threw his arms around Hyunjin, smiling when Hyunjin hugged him. 

“What?” Your eyes widened. That was probably the cutest and most insulting thing you could ever hear from your boy. Well, at least you know your boy loves you. 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction — even more so when his son simply said, “You always say to be honest mommy.” 

Hyunjin smiled as you wrapped your arms around both of them. “Sorry. I was just in a mood today.” 

“Like when mommy doesn’t get her chocolate?” Taemin giggled.

“Ok!” You stood up. “Roasting mommy time is over! I’m going to keep cooking dinner.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. Normally Taemin was sweet and innocent and full of compliments. When did that little shit become such a jokester? He must have gotten that from you.

You shuffled off to the kitchen, hoping the little argument didn’t ruin dinner. Fortunately, the noodles were cooked perfectly. All you needed to do was add some more onions. You dumped the chopped onions into the pot and stirred, hoping they would cook through in record time. 

Hyunjin’s arms snaking around your waist practically gave you a heart attack. “Oh my god Hyunjin I didn’t hear you come in.” You giggled. 

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin whispered into your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I know you’re raising him well.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “You’re the best mother anyone could ask for.” 

The loving words nearly brought tears to your eyes. There have been several occasions where you’ve wondered if you’ve been a good enough mom to Taemin. After all, you don’t really know how you did until they’ve either become a serial killer or a doctor. You turned around in Hyunjin’s arms, resting your head against his. “Thanks.” You wrapped your arms around his torso. “I needed to hear that.” 

Hyunjin hummed quietly as he pulled you closer. “I need to say it more.” He kissed your lips softly, “I love you. Thank you for sticking with me through this.” 

“Ewww.” Taemin’s giggles brought the two of you back to reality. 

You looked at Hyunjin and smiled. “What do you think?” 

Hyunjin grinned and looked over at Taemin. “I say we get him.” 

Taemin screamed as the two of you chased him, allowing him to dodge you a few times. Hyunjin lifted him up before plopping him on the couch, attacking his sides with tickles. 

Earlier, you might have told Taemin to quiet down. But now?

Fuck the neighbors. They’re assholes anyway.