#And for them to unconsciously act the same as ten years ago

[ingravinoveritas]

electronic-chocolate replied to your post "Just wanted to make a separate post about this…”

I had an argument on here with someone who said that michael is a straight man who's just started queerbaiting bc he wanted to appeal to the gomens fandom💀

@electronic-chocolate Oh my God. That has to be right up there with someone calling Michael a non-practicing bisexual a few months ago. What's interesting to me is how five years ago, people talked a lot more easily/readily about Michael's sexuality--not his sexual orientation, but in the sense of viewing him as a sexual being--whereas nowadays, he's been rendered almost sexless. I know the "family man" image Michael has been boxed into is at least part of the reason for that, but it's hard to think that this isn't also an unconscious response to his queerness becoming more visible and more loud (as if it wasn't visible/loud enough already) in recent times--specifically, Michael's overtly sexual comments about David.

In 2014, Michael talked about Sarah Silverman putting her hand on his butt and made cheeky quips about Lizzy Caplan's breasts on the MoS commentary, and nobody blinked an eye. Ten years later, he's not making those type of comments about a particular woman, or any woman. Instead, Michael is making those comments about David--about his slinky hips, his sylph-like chest, about how attractive David is--and suddenly, it's a big deal. People are seeing what's in front of them and either rationalizing or outright ignoring it, all while choosing to believe those comments couldn't possibly have those same sexual overtones because Michael is talking about a man.

But not only is the argument of the person you mentioned entirely specious on a surface level (because as we know, real people cannot "queerbait," as that term applies to fictional characters/media), it also manages to ignore absolutely everything Michael has said over the last five years about playing Aziraphale and Good Omens in general: How he decided before filming even began that Aziraphale is in love with Crowley, and the acting choices he made in every scene with David that were in the service of that relationship. The way Michael has said he always misses being Aziraphale when they're not filming, and how he doesn't know where the character ends and he begins.

There is also the fact that Michael has played a tremendous number of queer roles over the years--long before Good Omens--and none of them had anything to do with appealing to a fandom or fan base of any kind. Michael once previously said that every character he plays is "him"--that is, there is some piece of the character that is a part of who he is. And when you take that sentiment and put it alongside the multitude of queer roles and Michael's recent comments on the death podcast about his crush on John Taylor and his struggles with gender expression, it forms a clear, rounded picture of exactly who Michael Sheen is.

Not "queerbaiting"...just queer. Even if he doesn't label it specifically, and also because he shouldn't have to. Insisting on calling Michael straight despite all of the above and everything else Michael has shared about himself erases every part of his sexuality, not just the parts someone is uncomfortable with. I just wish more people understood that...

[sucrealacreme]

Supe Busters - Soldier Boy x female reader

Chapter Four

Summary : Vought has many secrets, project W is one of them. What happens when said project turns against them?

TRIGGER WARNING : Mention of sa (🍇), and graffic description of violence. At the second paragraph of Ashley. You are warned

Tonight was a normal one like every others. Same routine, same job. Except this night you were paired up with the “legendary Soldier Boy”.

Joint at the mouth, gun at hand, you couldn’t deny he looked incredibly good. If he wasn't such a dumbass and an assho-

“What did you say?” Ben turned to look at you with an intrigued expression on his already high looking face.

“I said nothing, the fuck you on?”

“Alright sweethearth lose the attitude before I fuck it out of you.” He said before taking a little puff. Who the hell does he thinks he is to talk to you this way?

“Alright, do you even know what we're about to do to act this way? Cause you seem clueless big Guy.” You were already over it with his attitude. For God's sake you were about to kill Shockwave. The guy assaulted three women repeatedly, and since the authorities weren't doing something, you would bring justice to his victims.

“Mind telling me again doll?” Ben said with a smirk. God he looked good. Not in a “I want a Quick fuck with you” way but more of a “I wouldn't mind Building a life with you” kind. He made you feel safe, I mean he’s a supe of course. But knowing he almost killed Homelander was sort of reassuring. She felt like she could breathe with a man like that. If you put aside his crimes, his old viens, and the trauma he comes along with. Oh no, you were lost in your thoughts again. Focus Y/n, it’s a life or death situation, not a dating one.

“Alright uhm, we have to eliminate Shockwaves and dissipate his remains. That’s my part. First, I’ll- hold on. Didn’t I tell you like ten minutes ago?”

“Yeah sorry, I’m just messing with you”He said while laughing.

Oh he was messing with you. You really hated when people did that, reminding you of your high school years. Sure, he probably didn't mean it in a mean way but it always made you feel self conscious. Like you were too dumb to get jokes.

You sudden quietness, made Soldier Boy confused. He heard you were quite the talkative person. Why were you so quiet? Did his joke offend you or something? Women and their times of the month, hormones fucking up everything. Tell you what, if it was his decision to make only, he wouldn’t such a sweet doll on the field like that. Too beautiful and pure to be messed up by war and fights.

It wasn’t the first time he saw you. He often saw you follow him throughout his missions. You always thought he didn’t notice you, but instead of you keeping an eye on him, it was him that was keeping an eye on you. He always made sure no one followed you, always breaking every security cameras. The first time you stalked him, he asked Butcher about you. He told Ben that you were a villain, a new set of toys for Vought to play with. You were unconsciously controlled by them, made to push fear into the population. Making them yearn for a bright hero to save them, salvage them.

Your abilities were simple, you could control atoms. Make them turn solid, liquid, into gaz, transform them, break them in half for energy, really anything. But, like every villains you had many weakness. Using those powers costed you a lot of energy. Not nuclear type of energy, just good old human energy. You could days on end if you pushed yourself too far. If you were his, he'd make sure you'd be at home, cooking, taking naps, and just being a happy little wife. Maybe one day who knows. Maybe one day

Ashley was at home when she injected the V. Her bones broke, her skin teared, her hair all grew back at once and her eyes were bloodshot. She was now on the floor, her breathing barely there. Tears kept making their way down her pale cheeks, just like the rain droplets on her window. She couldn’t move much, so she just laid there looking at them. Despite the pain, it was almost peaceful.

The lighting was warm and low, the sound of the raging storm outside along with her laboured breath and her tears hitting the floor were making her more and more sleepy. Maybe she could take a nap. Her fligjt was in three days after all and she took a one week long vacation months ago.

It was planned a long time ago, the fleeing I mean. After what happened between her and The Deep, she could barely get out of bed.

Why did he do that?

“Alright, we have to be really quiet ok. If he hears us we're fuc-”

*She wants that laffy taffy, that kiss Kiss kiss kiss-”

Your phone was ringing. Did Florence changer your alarm again?

“Fuck, hello?”

Ben had to take deep breaths not to laugh. What kind of goofy pussies would put that as an alarm and expect people not to laugh? It sounded like something the cum guzzler would do. Oh yeah, he probably has some lame ass phone ring.

“Hey,hey,hey, what do you mean a distraction?”

“Fuck,fuck,fuckkkk, we’ll be there in five ok o-o-or even less alright” You stopped the call and turned towards Ben.

“We have to go to the ‘Flat Iron Building’. That’ where your team is, do you know where it is?” You were becoming more and more agitated by the minute. Apparently the whole Shockwave allegations were false, and made to be a distraction for a Vought operation at the building where The Boys resides.

“Hey slow down angel, what's going on?” Ben knew one thing at that moment. If something dangerous was coming, he wouldn't be caught dead not protecting you. For some reasons, he was attracted to you like a magnet. Almost like a gravitational pull. But whatever it was, he wouldn't lose it. It grounded him, reminded him hewasnX't in Russia anymore.

Martin was one thing and one thing only at that moment. Stressed the hell out. If Vought happened to stumble on the files about them they would be dead in the next hour. He couldn't let that happen. No. His daughter wouldn't go through that.

Martin was aware of how it felt to live with an absent father. He would and will fight without anything stopping him to make sure Janine could live the best life.

And if that meant he had to flee the country or betray Butcher, the choice would be easy regardless.

It was 10 pm when Ashley finally broke out of her transe. Forehead covered in sweat, head pulsing like a heart, she went to take a shower. She felt so happy to be able to wash her hair again. To be able to put shampoo and conditioner on them and then let her hands brush through them. After that, she did her nightly routine before going towards her bedroom.

There, she started packing a few things for her great departure. Passport and essentials. She wasn't bringing her phone, her clothes or any cards with her. Cash only. She’d buy a new phone and clothes in Berne. She was scared Vought might have put airtags in her clothes. She saw them do it to even the most insignificant employe like the guy at the coffee shop in the building. So why would she be spared?

“Going somewhere Ash?”

That voice.

No.

Not again.

Ashley lunged at The Deep and the fight started.

“YOU RUINED MY LIFE YOU FISH FUCKER! I WASN'T AWARE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?” A hit.”

“I WAS DRUNK AND HIGH OUT OF MY MIND! YOU RAPED ME YOU DISGUSTING FUCK! FUCK YOU KEVIN FUCK YOU YOU BASTARD” She screamed while beating him to death. She suddenly let out the loudest, most primal, guttural scream he heard. And in an instant, Kevin was gripping his ears, under the mercy of an unbearable pain. His ears, his eyes started bleeding. Ashley screamed louder and louder while punching him like a gorilla.

“STOP” Down. Up. Down. And up. his legs were broken, bones poking out like branches

“ASHLEY PLEASE I'M SORRY” Down. And up. And down. And up. Ashley felt euphoric, like she was freeing herself from years of pain. Kevin Torso broke under the hits, a rib stabbing his hearth.

“Ashley, please…” his face was now pale, his mouth pooling of the scarlet liquid. Then suddenly, nothing.

Ashley killed The Deep.

Ashley killed her rapist. With her own hands and voice.

Justice was finally served.

When Y/n entered the Flat Iron Building, she smelled the compound V. Actual compound V. Not temp V, not the thing flowing through the Supe Busters veins. No, real, fresh compound V.

Oh how she could recognize that one. She had been tracking that one for a while now. Along with Soldier Boy of course. Ben was a side quest, something to occupy her free time. But that one? Tek Night? Now that was another thing. She had been careful with that one. After all, his senses were extremely heightened.

She had her smell covered, Florence bending the light for her to be invisible, her sounds also muffled by the latter. So to know she finally had a chance to end him, she was more than ecstatic. He was a violent, racist piece of shit. He had caused multiple tragedies by accusing the wrong people, exploding things left and right, abusing both men and women. The whole abuse thing was common in the supe community. That's why Vought protected them so much. Can't really sell the whole hero narrative if 90% of your “heroes” have sexual assault cases uh?

Pulling yourself out of your thought you signalled Ben to go before you. After all he had super strength, not you. You needed someone to distract the guy while pulling out the compound V.

Walking up one stair at a time, shield at one hand and gun in the other, Ben was ready to attack. When they arrived at the right floor, Ben put you at a safe distance before opening the door. There, he saw Tek Knight looking out the windows.

“I heard you miles down, you aren't very subtle you kn-” He was cut off by an unending agony. It was spreading through his head, hands, legs, everywhere.

“HEY HEY HEY STOP IT URGH..W-WE CAN T-TALKK”

“I don't speak to supes .” You said before ripping the V out of his body. You turned it to the simples thing : water.

“NO PLEASE PLEASE” He didn't know what he was begging for, but seeing how Soldier Boy was walking forward slowly like a predator at his prey, he knew he was dead.

And he was. Ben put the gun at his belt, took the shield with both hands and crashed it agaisnt his skull. His bones made a loud cracking noise. And Ben repeated the action four times. You were now in charge of putting the body away. That wasn't hard. You simply turned him into air. No traces. No evidence. No suspect.

Just panic that would surge in a few days.

A/n : I wrote this as best as I could, again leave 10 notes in order to have the fifth chapter, hoped yall liked it😊

@demodemo909 @weaponxgames

[certifiednobody]

I just found out about the Syndicate Ranboo skin and had to draw him.

I also wrote a little mini-fic for it. (Post-finale spoilers) ------------------------------------------- REGENESIS: A Dream SMP Epilogue ------------------------------------------- Alive? No, he shouldn’t be. Ranboo remembered his death, the years of numbness spent in limbo. his punishment for dying with unfinished business. And yet here he was, laying on his bed back home, being watched by a small army of crows that had gathered at his bedside, Phil’s worrying eyes and ears. He was in pain, but very much alive.

In the coming days Ranboo would come to learn of what had happened. At first they thought it best to let him be at ease before letting him know the gut-wrenching news, but he could tell something was off by the bitterness in Techno’s voice, the way Phil seemed to hold back the pain in his heart during their chats.

The news that the server had been nuked was almost comically tragic. All these years of love and loss, and yet none of it mattered in the end. Nearly everyone was gone. For a moment Ranboo wondered if he’d even left Hell.

Nobody knew how he was alive in the first place, even if Dream had revived him, he should’ve been incinerated in the blast that would’ve come moments after. And yet they’d discovered him completely fine, laying unconscious at ground zero of the devastation. The same place they assume Dream died. They couldn’t imagine why he was able to return, but Techno preferred not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so they just accepted that maybe the universe was trying to repay them for all they’d lost. It was easier than trying to understand Dream’s dark magic.

Apparently he owed his life to Nikki. If she hadn’t spotted him while scouting the ruins with Techno, his body would have been eaten away by the intense radiation.

Ranboo soon recovered, They had hoped he would, but Enderman biology was a mystery to them, so they weren’t confident a diet of healing potions and golden apples was enough to combat the radiation poisoning.

Eventually Ranboo was about to suit up in protective gear and join their scouting missions. It was clear most were long gone, but they did find a few survivors. Among them were Foolish, who had taken the full force of the blast, Eret and Wilbur, who had apparently been away from the SMP in some land called “Utah”, and everyone that lived in Las Nevadas, which had been just out of range of the explosions and fallout. Surprisingly, they also found Fundy, who had been travelling through the Nether at the time of the explosion and camped out there until he stumbled out of their portal a few nights ago. 

And the last, but most important, survivor they found while exploring the remains of Snowchester. Ranboo was devastated that he had nothing to remember Michael by, as everything he owned was nothing but ash now. Then they went to explore the bunker where the nuke had been launched, the only untouched part of Snowchester, where they all heard a familiar oinking in a nearby closet.

Whether Tubbo had the foresight to hide him or he’d wandered in there himself, Michael was alive and well, locked inside a closet with years of rations he’d been gobbling away at for the last two weeks.

The next decade had been an era of bittersweet peace and reconstruction for everyone. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, the devastation had shaken Techno and Quackity’s boldness. Maybe they had finally realized just how mortal they were, or maybe they just saw what endless war would do to the world. Either way, the Syndicate and Las Nevadas joined forces to repair their broken world, the original members of both factions being gifted special clothing.

It would take a long time for the people of this new land to get past their trauma. Almost everyone still clutched tightly to their Life Totems. Even after al this time, it was still surreal seeing Phil, Wilbur, and Fundy acting like a family again. Michael had grown a lot in these last ten years, and Ranboo was quick to ask Techno to tutor him in the art of self defense.

As he watched his son skillfully parry Techno’s blows and counterattack, he knew he was no longer scared of the void, of what came after death. He’d gotten his happy ending, and maybe in the next life he’d be able to reunite with Tubbo.

[hopeslastchxnce]

[  NEEDED  ]  sender approaches receiver and kisses them longer and more passionately than they ever have before. 

THE   BUDDING  ROMANCE  PROMPTS 

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @bonesrot

To say his relationship with Logan was complicated would be an understatement.

Logan, a man from a whole other timeline, had become something of a staple in the Xavier mansion now. The urgency Logan once had about freeing Erik and saving the world had died down quite a bit since his initial arrival. Charles often wondered if Logan's extended stay had caused the others from his time to perish, but then another voice would kindly point out that he was being too negative.

Charles still wasn't entirely sure how all of this time travel stuff worked, but he was fairly certain Logan had mentioned that it was some girl who beamed his subconscious back in time. Logan's form was solid --- as if he was much more than a faulty projection. And Charles would know all about astral projections given that he had the ability to do the same things. Regardless, you couldn't project from an unconscious body so wherever Logan's other self might have been, Charles had deduced that he was alive. Even so, Charles worried --- a lot. There was the issue of Logan's body. Just how long could the people on the other end keep this up? Or was their perception of time different? Has it been days or mere minutes on the other side? There was no way of knowing for sure, but it made Charles nervous, mostly for Logan's sake. And speaking of Logan…

Charles could feel him long before he entered the room, but it wasn't like Logan made much of an effort to still his thoughts. He was an open book though the man would argue differently.

"I'm a open book for YOU, Charles. Couldn't hide my thoughts from the world's most poweful telepath even if I wanted to."

He remembered Logan telling him a story about how they first met; about how easy it had been for Charles to dig around his head. He admitted that it was strange meeting this younger version of him and not getting that same sensation due to the suppression of his powers. At the time, Charles didn't care enough to let Logan's sentiments get to him but now? Those old sentiments were the other reason Charles worried so about the future. He had a bad habit of getting too attached to the wrong people sometimes although in Logan's case, it was completely by happy accident. But how even do you push away someone for good who knew you better than you knew yourself some days? Whether it was the older him of the future or the 'him' of today, Logan wasn't wrong. At Charles' core, he WANTED to be like the nice, optimistic guy in a chair several years from now, or even the guy he was shy of ten years ago -- the one that was always smiling.

But things had changed. And although Logan had been essential in helping Charles find a reason to stop drinking each day, there was still so much work to be done. He wasn't peak Charles yet, or rather, he wasn't the guy worthy of the way Logan was watching him from across the room. He wasn't worthy of that guy thinking about doing things he ought not even if it wouldn't be the first time.

And so Charles turned, full lips poised to stop Logan before he could act on the thoughts being projected only he was too late. The speed in which hands cupped his cheeks and drew him in made the telepath lose all train of thought. Gone were the many excuses he wanted to spit out about this being wrong. Logan likely knew them all, but it wasn't stopping him. At all.

Lips pull apart just briefly --- long enough for air until lips were claimed again --- devoured even by the guy who was becoming just as important as the other one likely tinkering in his lab at this hour. God how he hated unexpected attachments, but you wouldn't know it by the way his arms slowly welcomed Logan's intrusion, allowing the other male to guide him backwards against the counter.

This is wrong. We should stop. You're just going to leave like he did. I don't want to miss you too.

All of those things crept in his mind and likely spilled into Logan's own too. He couldn't be certain and couldn't be bothered trying to figure it out --- not when he felt like melting from the attention and the need Logan seemed to be pouring into him. It was this kind of thing that was making it hard for Charles to carry on as he used to. Logan believing in him --- believing he could grow into that great man he knew back home. The man had so much faith in him that at times it still seemed surreal. Even this moment felt surreal and yet it was happening, if his body's reaction was any indicator.

But if Logan's intention was to make Charles stop thinking for five minutes, he was slowly winning him over. The passion... the raw, aching need the kiss drew out of him, had him resisting the urge to push Logan away and instead, selfishly keep him close. He wanted to stay locked in his embrace so at least for now, he could pretend that they were made for each other; that this was right in every sense of the word. He wanted to pretend that Logan could be his forever even if that wasn't the case.

"Please... don't stop kissing me..."

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Many a day and night had I dreamed of the time when I should once more go back to my family and pick up the broken strands of life where I had dropped them years previously. The time was shortened by my good record. It was less than five years but it seemed a lifetime.

My health had not improved. In fact, during the last year in prison, I was almost an invalid. Both my physical and my nervous energy were at a low ebb.

The warden realized my condition, and assigned me to duty in connection with the prison farm, hoping that the outdoor exercise, air and sunshine might be beneficial. We went back and forth to the prison farm each day in trucks. I was placed in charge of a small crew of other trusties who were doing light farm work, and gathering and preparing vegetables for the farm kitchen, where forty or fifty men were fed.

...

During the last thirty days at Moundsville my nervousness seemed to increase, and was intensified by the anticipation of liberty. I had very little appetite and was utterly unable to eat the rough prison food. If the warden had not sent trays to my cell from his own table, I doubt if I would have lived to enjoy the freedom which was so near at hand.

Finally the big day arrived. I have always been an early riser, but on this eventful day I was up and ready to depart long before daylight. My train was due to leave at ten o’clock, but the time I waited for that train to come seemed like days instead of hours. I had on the same suit of clothes in which I had arrived some four years previously. Transportation on the railroad from Moundsville to Huntington was provided, but I had not a dollar in my pocket.

...

The long trial of the dead years had wound its devious and torturous way to the mountain top of freedom and hope, only to descend abruptly into the valley of gloom.

Little did I dream that while I was stepping out of the purgatory of prison, I was, at the same time, stepping into the hell of intolerance that confronts every ex-convict. The prison walls were left behind, but the marks and the stigma of imprisonment I carried away with me, and shall continue to carry them until the end of my days.

The first thing I did after I was released was to rush to the telegraph office and send some telegrams. I wired not only my wife, but also to some friends and former business associates. Although I was sick and tired, I walked and walked and walked, waiting for that train to come.

Finally I was on my way back home and tried to think things through. I had no definite plans. My only thought was to go back and pick up where I had left off. I was determined to make good. Little did I realize the bitter disappointments that were in store for me.

It seemed to me that every man who looked at me knew that I was fresh out of prison. Unconsciously I would look around to see who was near, and whether I was being recognized. I seemed to have the shame-faced feeling of a sneak-thief fresh from an act of lawlessness.

After what seemed to be an endless journey I reached my destination, and alighted at the old B. & O. station where the crowd had waved me farewell what now seemed ages ago.

There was no crowd present this time. Not even the curiosity seekers were there to see me. My return was quiet and my reception was cold.

I did not have far to go to be impressed with the fact that numerous important changes had taken place in the growing city of Huntington. It seemed like a different town. The most noticeable change was the appearance of the streets. When I left there were only a few scattered automobiles in use; now the city seemed literally covered with five thousand cars of all descriptions, buzzing about in every direction.

I had moments of great joy and exaltation. I felt as, no doubt, all men feel after long confinement, in love with life, and enraptured with the world. All God’s great outdoors seemed more beautiful than ever before. The trees and flowers seemed to extend their greetings; good things to eat were everywhere. It seemed that the earth had changed to heaven—but it turned out to be only a delusion, a fool’s paradise. I had not been home very long until I made some realistic discoveries. I found out that many of my old friends and associates were not half as glad to see me as I was to see them. At first I thought it was due perhaps to some change that had taken place in myself, or in my manner, or in my appearance, which made me unattractive or repulsive to my friends; but I soon found that, regardless of any change that might have taken place in myself, it was the mental attitude of the people which arose between us like an impenetrable wall. The one thought uppermost in the minds of ex-convicts, who have long been cut off from the outside world, is the wonder what it is like now, and whether people will greet them with kindness or with curses, when they return to make a new start in life. The great majority find out that their punishment does not end with their imprisonment.

I had paid the penalty exacted by the state. I had paid my debt to society. I asked no favors. All I wanted was the chance to make good, and to establish myself as an independent, self-respecting citizen. I was broke, and was eager to get back to work. All my property had been covered with mortgages to provide funds for my defense, and to take care of my family while I was away. I wanted to take care of my family and my financial obligations. From a friend, who also was a traveling salesman, I borrowed a selling outfit and started back on the road. Before my trouble had put me out of business, I was making $5,000 a year, and I felt that I could do so again. I had been rated as a good salesman, and was determined to fight my way back. Bitter disappointment awaited me. My old customers did not seem to be very much interested in me, and not at all in my goods. Time after time I was turned down where previously I had walked away with gratifying orders. It came home to me gradually, but emphatically, that my former customers, especially in the smaller towns and country districts, did not care to have any dealings with me, or to purchase any merchandise from an ex-convict. They shunned me and my goods—some politely, some rudely—as if I had been a leper. My high resolves and my best efforts brought practically no returns. I struggled for months, but in spite of all that I could do, my attempt to re-establish myself in business was a flat failure.

I had to live, but there was no money. I had gone back to the First National Bank, where I had always carried my account, and succeeded in borrowing a few hundred dollars on my own note. This money was soon gone, and none was coming in to take its place.

I found out another thing. I learned that my family was happier without me. Four or five years in the lives of a wife and growing children makes a big difference—especially when the husband and father is in the penitentiary.

The mental reaction in one’s own family, when poisoned by the unkind remarks and suggestions of relatives and would-be friends, is anything but favorable towards the one who “brought shame and disgrace” upon them.

Moreover, I found out that I had really changed. It is generally admitted by pathologists that repulsive surroundings, extreme worry, and nervous shocks, soon begin to tell on a man. The changes may be manifested in emotional excitement, irritability of temper, impaired memory, loss of interest in life. ... Imprisonment had wrought a tremendous change in me. I shall never get over the effect of it, either mentally or physically. I came out a changed man. I know what I am talking about. I have gone through it." - Earl Ellicott Dudding, The Trail of the Dead Years. Edited by William Winfred Smith. Huntington, West Virginia: Prisoners Relief Society, 1932. p. 115-120.

Picture caption: The Author ready to leave prison, January 2, 1914, pale and worn from long confinement, eager to start on the trail after the Dead Years.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

© @capsgrantrogers

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

TAG LIST: @mystic-232 @homesicam @theresnoplatypus @i-love-scott-mccall @slutfornat @goldielocks2004 @whatrambles @spidergirla5 @fanofalltheficsx @nocturnalherb16 @valenquei @golden-hoax @hunter-of-baker-street @missusstark @vhscherry @warm-sensations @addictedtofictionalcharacters @sarahsmcu @tinylumpiaa @amelia-song-pond @heartislubbingdubbing @stolenxkissess @clean-and-claire @winchestersgirl222 @virgoroses @marvel-ousnesss @me-a-hopeless-romantic @rvgrsbrns @maccasbeard @haileygarciasunshine @lewd-alien @kait-is-always-late @mckenna @weenersoldierr @mxltifaves @soldierstucky @theboldandthebootyful @arkofblake @isabellamur @kiwisa @spider-man-lover @rosiebrands @stealapizzamyheart @koressecretidentity @asemistablehundredyearoldman @mayans-sauce @petlaufeyson @megapeacelovemusic-blog @phoenixhalliwell  

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 23

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 4055

Warnings: Death, terminal illness, near-death, lot of sadness

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when her Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: Chapters in italics are flashbacks. I made this chapter long since y'all had to wait so long for it :)

Chapter Songs: You'll Be In My Heart (Piano) Beyond the Sea (Piano) Great Balls of Fire (Alternate Piano)

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23

Rooster

The words coming out of Juliette's mouth made sense individually, but Rooster couldn't make heads or tails of them combined. He didn't care, though. He loved how she lit up talking about her proposal, the way her sapphire eyes glittered with anticipation at the idea of presenting it, how an involuntarily smile would form on her kissable lips the longer she talked about it, how the facts sprouted from her mouth like she'd been born with them ingrained in her mind. Most of all, Rooster loved seeing Juliette's worries, stress, and melancholy melt away for a short while, the tension dissipate from her tightly wound shoulders. 

Rooster kept a hand on her thigh as a constant reminder that Juliette was here and alive, that this wasn't some cruel dream he'd wake up from and find himself staring at the charred remains of Coyote's plane instead of Juliette's glowing face. 

Around seven, she finished her work, and they migrated to the couch. Rooster turned on the TV, but neither one paid much attention to it. Juliette fell asleep on his shoulder thirty minutes in, exhausted from the rollercoaster they called today. Rooster didn't dare move a muscle, unwilling to break the peace that had finally overcome Juliette. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling, keeping his hand on her thigh as he unconsciously, lightly, tapped out the words he ached to say: India Lima Yankee. Even after their passionate kiss mere hours ago, Rooster was still scared to speak them in fear of pushing their relationship forward too fast. Juliette had never been one to act without thinking when it came to relationships. She liked slow and steady. Rooster learned early on before he started dating her that Juliette wanted to be wooed. It was the same day he bought the locket for her, the same one currently residing in the chest pocket of his flight suit. Rooster had meant to give it to her the next time they met, but he hadn't planned on that being this morning. Then she'd gone up with him and the other pilots, chaos ensued in the evening, and Bradley hadn't found the right time. Remembering Juliette hated being woken up, Rooster decided now was certainly not the right time either.

Darkness settled over North Island, but Rooster still didn't move. Instead, he allowed himself to close his eyes, to maybe get some rest while he waited for news, but the idea was short-lived because the door squeaked open. Rooster looked up, hoping it'd be Maverick with information on Phoenix and Bob. Instead, he found Hangman standing there, his expression perplexed but seemingly not from seeing Juliette passed out on Rooster's shoulder.

"What do you want, Seresin?" Bradley asked quietly, hoping not to wake Juliette. It didn't work. She stirred, blinking sleepily.

"Cyclone requested my help in finding Juliette. He needs to speak with her in his office. I'm to escort her there," Hangman said.

"Shit," Jules muttered grumpily, pushing herself up. "I swear to God if he's going to force me to see the doctor after what happened today..."

She got up and shouldered her purse. Rooster walked her over to Hangman and said, "I'll be here when you're done."

"Hopefully, this won't take long," Juliette replied, giving Bradley a quick peck on the lips. "I'll be back."

Rooster nodded and watched her leave with Hangman, who walked much too closely to Juliette for Bradley's liking. Swallowing his rising annoyance, he turned around and returned to the couch. He switched off the TV, the noise now grating on his frayed nerves. It'd been fine with Juliette by his side. She'd always had a calming effect on him, whether she intended to or not, but with her gone, the anxiety and worry from today rose up like a violent tidal wave, continually swelling, waiting to crash down on him in its monstrous size and drown him. Rooster simply sat in the darkness, though, unwilling and unable to move with the paralyzing fear gripping him. Something must've happened to Phoenix and Bob for it to be taking this long for him to get word on their condition. And maybe it was paranoia overtaking him, but a quiet, ominous voice in the back of his mind told him that whatever Cyclone needed to talk to Juliette about, it couldn't be good. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rooster saw a familiar figure enter the room. He glanced at Maverick for only a brief second, avoiding looking at his captain's face in fear he'd see the news he didn't want to hear.

"They'll keep Phoenix and Bob in the hospital overnight for observation. They're going to be okay," Maverick informed, stopping a conservative distance away.

Rooster bowed his head in relief, silently thanking God for allowing his friends to live. There'd been too many close calls today, but they'd all survived. He could be grateful for that. "That's good," Rooster replied, his voice much steadier than he felt inside, the tidal wave still threatening to drown him. "I've never lost a wingman."

"You're lucky," Maverick said softly. "Fly long enough, it'll happen... there will be others."

Maybe it was his frayed nerves; maybe it was his pent-up fury at the man he loved so much but had been brutally betrayed by; maybe it was him wanting the answers he always wanted but never received; maybe it was Rooster wanting to hurt Maverick the same way his surrogate dad had hurt him all those years ago because as Maverick turned around to leave, Rooster said, "Easy for you to say. No wife. No kids. Nobody to mourn you when you burn in."

The words weren't true. Rooster knew Juliette and the rest of the Kazansky clan would be devastated if Maverick died, that Penny would be upset, that he himself would be distraught, but Rooster didn't care. The pain caused by the betrayal of Maverick cut Bradley to the bone, and it had been an open wound ever since, festering for almost two decades. Nothing and no one could stop him from finally unleashing his fury.

Maverick didn't turn around. All he said was, "Go home. Let's get some sleep."

The decorated captain tried to walk away, but Bradley snapped, standing up in outrage and demanding, "Why'd you pull my papers from the academy? Why did you stand in my way?!"

Maverick stopped, peering at Rooster over his shoulder. He hesitated before replying, "You weren't ready."

"Ready for what, huh?" Rooster stalked towards him, putting himself nose to nose with his captain. "Ready to fly like you?"

"No," Maverick said, finally turning around and meeting Bradley's gaze. "Ready to forget the book. Trust your instincts. Don't think. Just do. You think up there, you're dead. Believe me."

Had Rooster not been so far gone in his anger, the look of despair falling onto Maverick's face might've stopped him from what he said next. He wanted the man he used to look up to feel the same pain he had all these years, to feel some betrayal of his own. All Maverick had wanted was for the two men to reconcile. Bradley knew this, and he would steal those dreams the same way Maverick had stolen his by pulling Bradley's papers. In a quiet and accusatory voice, Rooster said, "My dad believed in you. I'm not going to make the same mistake."

Pained silence engulfed the two of them, both evidently hurting in their own way but unable to work it out. Rage rolled off Rooster in waves, colliding violently with the sorrow pulsating outward from Maverick. Who knows how long they would've stood there, their gazes unwavering from each other, had Warlock's quiet voice not gathered their attention from the doorway.

"Maverick," the rear admiral said. Something about his expression, although always stoic and collected, had an edge of sadness in it.

Mav cleared his throat and tore his eyes from Bradley. "Sir?"

Warlock's gaze briefly flicked over to Rooster as if he was trying to gauge the situation between the two aviators. But, if he figured out what was happening, he didn't ask. Bradley wished he would've inquired about the trouble between him and Maverick rather than the bombshell he dropped next. "Admiral Kazansky has passed away."

Both Maverick and Rooster staggered slightly back, stunned and disbelieving. How could Iceman be dead? The man who beat the cancer twice before already? Perhaps Rooster had fallen under the same denial Juliette had, that the doctors had misdiagnosed the terminal illness, or that he'd be a miracle case and survive it against all odds, or-

"Jules," Bradley breathed, the reality sinking in. Cyclone calling her into his office... it couldn't be a coincidence. "Where's Juliette?"

"I'm here," came her unsteady response, her voice barely above a whisper. Jules came into view, barefoot and supported by Hangman, who held her purse and heels in his free hand. How Juliette was even up and walking was beyond Rooster, but then again, she'd never reacted to shocking situations like most other people. 

She slipped out of Hangman's grasp and shuffled in a daze to Maverick, who enveloped her in a stupefied hug. "I'm so sorry, Juliette. I'm so sorry."

Tears rolled down her face. "I saw him this morning. He seemed to be doing better. I don't know what happened. I don't-"

Juliette broke down into hushed sobs, sinking into Maverick's embrace. Rooster bowed his head, hiding the tears forming in his eyes as he silently grieved the loss of Admiral Kazansky, the man who had supported Rooster at Top Gun when he'd had no family of his own, none that Bradley wanted there, at least; he grieved the man who Rooster wanted to ask permission to marry his daughter when the time was right; the man he had hoped to get to know once more but now would never have the chance. 

Out of his peripheral, Bradley saw Hangman set Juliette's belongings inside the room and shut the door behind him and Warlock, allowing the three to mourn privately.

Bradley rested a hand on Juliette's shoulder and squeezed it to let her know he was there for her too. As much as he wanted to be the one consoling her right now, he understood that she and Maverick shared a bond in regards to Iceman much deeper than she did with Rooster. Admiral Kazansky had been a rock for both of them, and now, he was gone.

"When's the funeral?" Maverick inquired, sniffling.

"Tomorrow evening," Juliette replied, hiccuping and pulling away. She wiped the tears off her cheek.

"I, uh, I need to go talk to Cyclone and Warlock about the preparations, see what I need to do." Mav turned to Rooster. "Take care of her and get her home, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir." If there was one thing that could make the boys set aside their differences, no matter what, it was Juliette. Maverick kissed his goddaughter on top of the head and left the room.

"Let's get you home," Rooster said gently, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

She sniffled, frowning. "You need to change out of your flight suit. You'll get in trouble if you don't."

"It's fine. I think some exceptions can be made right now."

"No, don't- don't make exceptions for me just because-" Juliette's voice hitched- "Nothing is normal for me right now, and I need... I need some type of normalcy to occur. Please. For my sanity, I just need you to do what you would normally do if what happened hadn't-"

Juliette covered her mouth as a sob burst forth, and Bradley immediately enveloped her in a comforting embrace. She wept into his chest, her fists clutching his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Having been in her position before, the possibility of that being true was strong. Rooster let her cry until no more tears could be produced, and the second of many waves of grief subsided. Without a word, he once more slipped his arm around her waist and grabbed her things, escorting her to his room. Juliette sank onto his bed upon their arrival, and Rooster swiftly changed into casual wear. He draped his flight suit over the back of his desk chair, taking Juliette's locket out of the chest pocket and slipping it into his keepsake box before she could see it. He could give her the locket one day, but not today. Now was not the time to bring up their past in any way, shape, or form.

Rooster grabbed his wallet, keys, and Juliette's belongings. She stood up shakily and gripped his hand in a vise. She might crush his bones if she squeezed any harder, but he'd let her. Anything to help Juliette through this. Rooster had been here before. He understood the helplessness and disbelief, the inability to fully comprehend that someone you loved and cared for so profoundly was gone. Time would heal the wound, but the scar would always linger as an emptiness in the heart that nothing and no one could fill.

Bradley briefly let go of Juliette to help her in his car, get in the driver's seat, and reverse out of his parking spot. However, the second he could, his hand was back in hers.

"Do we need to pick up Raptor and Lightning?" Rooster asked gently.

Juliette shook her head. "No, they're with my par-" she stopped short, correcting herself- "my mom. I dropped them off this morning to... to cheer up my dad."

Juliette's voice went up a couple of octaves as she tried to stop the tears from falling again with a barely successful attempt. No other words were aid until Rooster pulled into the Kazansky driveway. An eerie silence had settled over the place, and the darkness of the house didn't help. The only light showing, dim as it was, came from the living room. 

"I don't want to go inside," Juliette whispered, staring at her home with what Rooster could only describe as fear. "I don't want to be in the house he's not in anymore."

"You don't have to," Rooster replied softly, kissing the back of her hand. "I can go get the dogs for you."

Juliette shook her head, giving a small appreciative smile. "No, I have to. My mom needs me..."

Taking a deep breath, Juliette exited the car. Rooster followed her up to the front and inside the unsettlingly quiet house. Juliette called out for her mom, who emerged from the living room within seconds. Tears streaks stained the Kazansky matriarch's cheeks, and she broke down when she saw her daughter, who appeared equally as distraught and depressed as her mom. The two women tightly embraced, their bodies shaking while they wept into each other's shoulders. Rooster hung his head to avert his eyes, feeling like he was intruding upon a moment the two were sharing. 

Sarah Kazansky pulled away, and her gaze fell on Bradley. She smiled so warmly at him for someone who had just lost her husband, and it reminded him of his mom whenever she would go through periods of severe depression when missing Goose, how she would plaster on a smile that could brighten even the darkest of rooms. 

"It's so good to see you again, Bradley," Sarah said, pulling him into a hug. 

He willingly returned it, telling her, "You too, ma'am. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Sarah backed off, wiping fresh tears off her cheeks. "We knew this day was coming, but it doesn't make it any easier."

"Are you by yourself?" Juliette asked, kneeling down to pet Raptor and Lightning, who had come strolling in at the sound of the owner's voice. The dogs acted as upset as the humans, almost like they knew Iceman wasn't coming back.

"Yes. Jack and Lillian will arrive in the morning, along with Joey, and will stay with me for a while," she replied.

"Will you two be okay by yourselves tonight?" Rooster inquired, unreasonably worried about them being alone. It's not like they were in any danger. However, the aviator still didn't relish the idea of leaving the grieving women alone.

Sarah smiled appreciatively at him. "We should be fine, but if you'd like to stay, I know neither of us would object."

"I don't want to intrude. I'm sure you two would like to be alone, but if-"

Sarah shook her head. "You wouldn't be. If you have to get back to base, I understand, but-" her gaze shifted worriedly to Juliette- "if not, I'd like for you to stay the night. I'd feel better about it."

Rooster nodded. "Of course."

"I'm, uh, I'm going to take a shower. It's been a long day," Juliette said, standing up. She picked up her belongings and kissed Rooster on the cheek. "I'll be back in a bit."

He watched her go slowly up the stairs; Raptor and Lightning followed closely behind. Sarah waited until her daughter was out of earshot before saying, "Thank you for staying. I know things aren't what they were between you two, but after she nearly crashed in the plane-"

Rooster blanched. "You know about that?"

"Yes. Maverick called me, told me he was worried about her. If he was concerned about how she was holding up, I knew it had to be serious."

Hesitantly, he nodded. "It was..."

"Juliette will never admit when she's struggling, but I know the signs, and she's been showing them for a while. Even though things have been tense between you two, she's been happier recently, and all I can think of is that you and Maverick are around."

"It probably has more to do with Maverick," Bradley admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I think I've caused her more stress."

"Maybe in the very beginning, but not now. Not anymore." Sarah grasped his arms, a sadness falling onto her face. "Thank you for staying with us tonight."

"Anything I can do to help, just let me know," Rooster promised.

"Would you mind playing the piano for a little bit? The house is too quiet, and I missed having you around to play. None of us could do it half as well as you."

"I'd be honored." Bradley offered his arm for Sarah Kazansky to take, and she did. He escorted her into the living room. While she took residence in her late husband's recliner, Rooster took a seat on the piano bench, his fingers gliding over the keys to play some soft melodies, nothing too sad to avoid adding to the already somber mood in the house, but nothing too upbeat either. Just... calm. He played 'Dock of the Bay' as it was the first one to come to mind, followed by 'I'm Yours' by Jason Mraz, 'Half of My Heart' by John Mayer, and a few others he could think of. He noticed halfway through the sixth song that Sarah Kazansky's eyes were closed, but Rooster kept playing in the event she wasn't asleep. She had asked him to play, and he would until his fingers fell off. Anything to make the tragic situation a little more bearable for her.

As Bradley finished off 'You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling,' Juliette slid onto the bench next to him, wearing leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, the too-long sleeves pulled over her fists. She had her hair pulled back in a clip, and she would've appeared completely fine save for her bloodshot eyes, a dead giveaway for the breakdown she must've had in the shower.

"Your mom asked me to play," he whispered, continuing to play a soft melody to prevent waking Sarah with the conversation. "Do you have any requests?"

Juliette rested her head on his shoulder. "Dad always loved Phil Collins."

Rooster nodded, going over the playlist of songs in his head. Finally, he landed on one, although he hesitated to play it. Unlike the others he'd been playing, this song verged on nostalgic and melancholy, especially given the circumstances, but he swore he could hear Iceman's voice telling him, compelling him, to play it, convincing Bradley any other song would be insufficient for the moment.

Rooster's fingers started playing involuntarily, almost like they had a mind of their own, and he started singingly softly along to 'You'll Be In My Heart.' Although Bradley couldn't see Juliette's face, he could feel the muscles in it contorting against his shoulder. Halfway through the song, he heard her sniffle, and Rooster's playing trailed off.

"I'm sorry. I should've chosen a different one," he apologized guiltily upon seeing her crying.

Juliette lifted her head and shook it. "No, no, it's not that. I love that song. Dad loved that song. It's-" she wiped tears off her cheeks- "it's just of all songs you could've chosen that I know you know how to play of Phil Collins, you chose that one."

"How come?"

She smiled wistfully at the piano, a fresh stream of silent tears rolling down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to notice. "I told my dad that if I ever got married, he could choose our father-daughter dance. Dad chose that song."

"You know-" Rooster swallowed the knot down in his throat as the gravity of the song's meaning fell over him- "my mom always told me that whenever 'Great Balls of Fire' started playing, it was Dad saying hi. I usually heard the song when I was going through tough times and needed a pick-me-up. So maybe hearing this song tonight was your dad saying he's still here."

There were three specific times Rooster remembered hearing 'Great Balls of Fire' an abnormal amount of times for a song that had come out in 1957: after his mom passed, after he cut Maverick out of his life, and when he'd broken up with Juliette. It always came on when he was feeling incredibly alone. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but Rooster had always believed his parents were watching over him. And, if his parents were his guardian angels, then Iceman was undoubtedly his family's, letting his presence be known through Bradley playing the piano. It's why Rooster had mentioned his little belief, not intending for his words to break Juliette down again, but she did. However, the tears weren't full of sadness because she was smiling through them. Glancing over at the piano, she whispered, "Hi, Dad."

Bradley reached over and grabbed her hand. Juliette squeezed it gratefully. She stood up, keeping ahold of him. He followed her to the couch, and they settled in under a plush blanket while Raptor and Lightning lay at their feet. Juliette turned on the TV, changing the channel to one playing classical piano versions of popular songs from all decades.

"What's the sign that your mom was around?" Juliette asked softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's 'Beyond the Sea' by Bobby Darrin," Rooster replied, smiling. "I have one faint memory of Mom playing it before we went to see Dad at Top Gun, belting out to it. She would always play it on their wedding anniversary, even after he died, and the anniversary of his death, but no other times. I think it hurt too much to listen to outside of those times."

"She must be saying hi right now, then." Juliette nodded at the TV. Following her line of sight, Rooster zeroed in on the caption at the bottom of the screen stating the song: Beyond the Sea. "I guess your mom and my dad are hanging out together."

"All we need is for 'Great Balls of Fire' to start playing, and then we know it's not a coincidence that the songs are playing," he replied, resting his cheek atop her head. The two of them fell into a comfortable, albeit sorrowful, silence, both wrapped in their own thoughts of their late parents, wishing they were here in person rather than having to look for signs of their presence. 

Slowly but surely, Rooster started nodding off, exhaustion overtaking him. His heavy eyelids finally closed, and as he drifted off to sleep, Bradley heard the all too familiar piano riff, gentler than normal but still recognizable, of 'Great Balls of Fire.' Smiling to himself, Rooster murmured, "Hi, Dad."

***

Tags: @lgg5989@shanimallina87@polikszena@summ3rlotus@souslesyeuxde@gleasonmalfoy@icemansgirl1999@supernaturaldawning@thedarkinmansfield@lyannaforpresident@lapilark@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth@simpofthecentury @blueeyes-blueskye @gleasonmalfoy @armyx78 @always-abigails-blog @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

[thunderheadfred]

🦅Hawks HC’s🦅

This is SO unnecessarily long. Some NSFW. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

Has zero social life or hobbies outside of work. He knows it’s unhealthy, but like, who has the time?? Oh? Lots of people do?? Haha what are healthy work/home boundaries? He desperately wants to retire and always talks about a world without heroes, but the truth is he would have no idea what to do with himself if he got his way. Take him to a park at midnight and watch him turn into a giant repressed child on a swing. He’ll do a standing-360 and it will be terrifying.

Listens to music way too loud in his headphones to drown out wind noise. Probably half deaf at this point. His musical taste is wild; listening history all over the fucking place. Algorithms have no idea what to do with him.

That visor? It’s prescription. Wow is he far-sighted. He wears glasses. He’s not blind without them (rather the opposite) but they help him see things directly in front of him without massive eye strain. Yeah, he looks really hot in glasses.

Prefers communicating via text. Sometimes it’s a lot of dumb memes, but mostly it’s sincere. He can say what he means when he doesn’t have to put on a public front.

Smokes like a chimney. Self medicates with stimulants. Coffee, tobacco, sugar. Fidgety, likes things in his mouth or hands. Gnashes on toothpicks and popsicle sticks. He really should go back to therapy, huh? His teeth are sparkling white for the cameras but his breath could use some work. Chews gum a lot to compensate, and always does it really loudly with a big shit-eating grin.

Impatient as fuuuuuck. Rude about it. If you take too long doing anything, you’re going to hear a foot tapping. He’ll smile and laugh it off, never ever directly criticize you about it. But lord, the dramatic sighs. He WILL nudge you out of the way and take over in order to finish a task faster, and it’s truly fucking annoying.

LOVES food. Has the metabolism of an actual bird. Will seize upon any excuse to eat. No need to be self-conscious about eating in front of him; he wants you to enjoy it. Steals bites from you and talks with his mouth full. Prefers street food and take-out, usually eats while walking or flying. Sit-down restaurants are an invitation for gawkers.

He’s one of those celebrities that looks way taller on TV. In real life, he’s small and compact. So you’re surprised the first time you see him in person. He has a big head. Literally.

If you’re taller or bigger than him, he does Not Care. He treats everyone like they’re four feet tall, even Endeavor. Everything you do is cute. If you’re actually short, he’s going to carry you around all the time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Collects big chunky overpriced watches. All the better to tell you you’re late.

Half his clothes are brand fucking new. Sometimes he forgets to take off the tags. (Don’t look at the prices, do NOT) He never seems to wear the same thing twice. He also never seems to go shopping. Brands just give him stuff, and he shrugs and goes “yeah okay.”

The other half of his clothes are old, faded, and patched up. Every item he acquires for himself has deep sentimental value. If you tell him to throw away that nasty ten-year-old pair of frayed cargo pants, be prepared to find out how wrong and evil you are for even suggesting it.

He doesn’t snore; he coos. Loudly. Like a fucking pigeon trapped in a megaphone.

- - - - -

Dating

Gift-giving is his love language. Bringing your favorite snacks. Leaving novelty magnets on your fridge. He found a copy of that book/game/movie you mentioned like a month ago, don’t you remember? If he has to go out of town on a job, he’ll bring back the ugliest possible souvenir, just to annoy you.

He likes gifting jewelry especially. Covering you in shiny baubles, little golden things. Not expensive, but unusual. Antiques or handmade, even bizarre vending machine crap. Gets really handsy if you wear or show off his gifts.

Since you’re the first person who has given him The Feels, if you are resistant to his advances (like, say, because he’s way too famous and you’re terrified he’s gonna break your heart) he’s going to go fucking nuts trying to woo you. Doesn’t have a single patient bone in his body but will wait as long as it takes for you to come around. He’ll act like he’s cool with just being friends at first, just hanging out, haha. Oh you’re busy today? That’s cool. Inside he’s shrieking like a tea kettle. Go ahead, make him wait.

Don’t bother giving him a key to your place. He’s coming in through the bedroom window or patio door. Just put out a damn welcome mat on your balcony... or a bird feeder.

A bit of a voyeur. He likes to watch you do your normal routine without interruption. He can see from miles away so if you’ve got your lights on at night, he’ll creep for a while before he comes in. It comforts him immensely, seeing a little slice of the world that isn’t constantly in need of saving.

Is super talkative and funny but a terrible communicator. Makes more jokes the worse he feels. Will almost never tell you what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know. You will learn to read between the lines and gradually notice his tiny unconscious cries for help. Back rubs make him emotional.

He shows up at your place at the weirdest times. All hours. You’re never ready. At first it was infuriating, because you wanted to look your best and have time to prepare, but you figure out pretty quickly that seeing you in your natural state is his favorite thing. He never gets to be around normal people, doing normal things. A boring, lazy afternoon is his idea of paradise.

He’ll pick through your things and ask a world of invasive questions. A medicine cabinet raider. He wants to know every fucking tiny thing about you, live vicariously through you.

He actually lives in a top floor penthouse. Because I mean, where else? Never spends any time there; mostly he seems to roost on the balcony. He has used the front door maybe once. He much prefers your place, and will only take you back to his after months of dating. It’ll take like, an entire emergency. You’ll end up in his bed by mistake.

Because when you finally come over, he’s embarrassed. Its sparse. White. Things in boxes. A new furniture smell. Like he’s not done moving in, though he’s lived there for years. He wants you to move in So Bad but doesn’t want to be pushy. If you don’t start leaving your stuff there, he’ll steal things from your apartment. Where the hell is your favorite t-shirt? Or that pillowcase you like? Dammit Keigo.

He’s a decent cook, a habit he made himself pick up because he thought it might make him feel more normal. It... didn’t. He never actually cooks until you give him an excuse. He’ll bring you breakfast in bed and watch you eat every bite with big hungry eyes.

He’s got a separate wardrobe for his hero costume and all his feathers. Yeah. His feathers. Because he can detach and control his feathers at will, when he’s alone at home he kind of just... shucks off his wings. The first time you see him do it, your eyes fall out of your head. He walks around in a tee shirt and boxers with these ugly little stumps covered in brownish, blood-red down. It actually looks kind of gnarly, like he got mauled by a bear.

He’s never dated until you. No one has ever been in his apartment until you. No one has called him Keigo until you. He has some bigass intimacy issues. Because. Y’know. The trauma. But god, he wants you in his life so bad, even if he has no idea how to make time for your relationship.

He’ll want to keep you to himself for a while. Once you go public he’s going to have an arm around your shoulders at all times. Publicly Displays his Affection way more than is socially acceptable in Japan, and gives precisely -100,000 fucks.

His fans either love you or hate you. There is no in between. He will immediately take your phone and threaten to drop it from a great height if he catches you reading shitty gossip about the two of you. Does NOT care about his public image anymore, doesn’t want YOU to care about it either. He’s gonna retire soon anyway, remember? That’s a lie.

Being a charming motherfucker is the core of his public persona, so you will get jealous. A lot. He will flirt shamelessly without realizing it. He will get photographed in compromising positions with gorgeous people.

Once you accept that he’s basically an actor 80% of the time and that Hawks and Keigo are separate identities, you’ll both feel better. When he comes home (to YOU) and falls over exhausted and stops being Hawks(tm), when he scratches his ass or burps in front of you, when he yells to you from the bathroom, when he groans childishly about his shitty day while laying face-down in your lap, you’ll know you have nothing to worry about. Keigo is all yours.

Boundaries? Never heard of ‘em. He’s either a million lightyears away or he’s glued to your hip. The whiplash is astounding.

Absolutely says “I love you” wayyyyyy to soon. It thrills you but scares you off at the same time, because there’s no way Hawks - The Hawks - can actually mean it, right? (He does)

Rings? Nah. When things get serious, he will make a necklace out of a feather for you, and if you ever take it off, you better be asleep or in the shower. Even then you’re on thin fuckin ice. If you’re not wearing it he knows. He’s never mean about making you put it back on, it just makes him nervous if he can’t feel your heartbeat.

- - - - -

SPICY CHICKEN NUGGETS

High sex drive. Horny like 25/7. Probably a symptom of having way too much pent up stress.

Often takes care of it himself when he doesn’t have the emotional resources for anyone else, even his S.O. Figures you don’t want him coming on to you as often as he would like to, but he’s too stupid to talk to you about it first. Morning masturbator.

Yes he’s fucked around a lot but he’s not exactly a playboy either. People have always thrown themselves at him, and before he met you he let them do it. Especially when out of town and staying in a hotel. Whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, etc.

He’d never be unfaithful to you though; his loyalty and dedication are frankly a little unsettling. Sometimes you feel like the only thing in his life other than hero work. Teach this man to knit. Make him join a book club. Christ. Anything.

Does in fact have seasonal mating patterns and it’s super embarrassing.

An underwear-sniffing perv. He’ll definitely hump your pillow.

Gets a sick thrill out of breaking in and startling you. Coming up behind you in the dark, sneaking into your bed. It’s probably his worst habit, and even he hates that he does it. If you get better at detecting him he’ll be so proud. Land a slap on him and he’ll be a horny mess.

Dog-whistles at you. Often from rooftops, and you have no idea where he is but you know he’s leering.

He will call you a lot of really stupid pet names. He likes the way you blush when he finds a newer, stupider one. Calls you angel when he’s really far gone.

Likes to scratch you with his stubble until your skin turns raw and sensitive. If it annoys you or hurts a little? Even better. Making you squirm is his new favorite thing. Especially when going down on you. Your inner thighs are always exfoliated.

His cock is average in every respect. This is not a bad thing. He knows how to please you with every totally normal inch of that cock. He has some kind of homing beacon installed on your sensitive spots.

Goes absolutely insane for blowjobs. Any time, any place.

Likes to bend you around in all kinds of positions with an assist from his feathers to hold up an ankle here, an arm there. Get used to floating mid-coitus. It just seems to happen.

Spanky.

His number one priority is making you feel adored and at home in his bed. Ohhhhh he likes to make you smile. But if you encourage him to get pushy and dominant with you, you will have a good, good time.

He’s switchy, and will lose his shit if you initiate or take control. Again, he’s always horny for you, because he can finally let go. Breathe in his direction and he’s hard.

Doesn’t moan much, but Babe, he’s a dirty talker. He’s not smooth or deliberate about it, it’s more like he can’t fucking believe you let him do whatever he wants to you. You like that huh? Like he’s in stages of shock. He’s singing your praises to high Heaven and muttering oh shit oh shit oh shittttttt and laugh-crying as he cums. He never talks about his feelings; he fucks about them.

After. Care. King. He loves pampering and clucking over you anyway, this is simply another excuse to do it. He knows exactly how much water you drink in a day. Can’t take care of himself for shit, but you? You’ll never have a need he won’t try to fill. What’s all that hero work for if not this? Yeah, soak it up. You deserve it.

[httpknjoon]

friends with history | ksj; 2

plot | You and Jin broke up. It’s a mutual decision. Another decision you shared was to stay friends, considering you two are in a single friend group. It’s easy, you thought. Both of you just have to act like you did not have a seven-year relationship while you hang out with your other friends every Saturday with your new dates.

chapter summary | Chocolate milk, dinner night, and a couple of announcements. 

words | 3.5k

genres | tiny fluff, angst,  exes!au

pairing | seokjin x reader

warnings |  like a single curse

note | will definitely be followed by like a 2.5 chapter or something like that. anyways, enjoy reading! i would love to hear some thoughts from you :))

main masterlist  | previous  | series masterlist

“That would be two dollars.”

Jin slipped a hand in his pockets to get his wallet. He smiled at the cashier as he handed her the bill. After declining the offer to put the item in the paper bag, Jin walked out of the convenience store with a chilled, chocolate milk in his hand. He eyed his wristwatch before hopping back to his car and placing the bottle on the passenger seat.

Unending streetlights were greeting him as he passed by them. The glowing moon was starting to make its appearance in the lead-colored night sky. No traffic was ahead of him, making it easier and faster for him to reach his destination. He exhaled with how peaceful everything seemed to be, even though it’s surely not. He knows that maybe a couple of hours later he will feel the opposite of what he feels now. His foot pressed the brakes smoothly as he stopped in a parking lot in front of a building. 

Should I text her? Should I just go there? Or maybe I’ll just wait here?

His teeth tugged on his bottom lip as he stared at the entrance of your company building. He clutches on the steering wheel while his legs shake up and down unconsciously. He picked what he thought was the best choice: to send a message. Although he was unsure if you still have the same number, he began typing with unclear thoughts.

Good evening– Too formal.

I’m here outside– Too cold?

Jin bit the corner of his thumb as he tried to think of a message starter. Maybe I should just call? No. What if she’s busy? She also hates receiving calls without notice. He simply rests his chin on the top of the steering wheel with thoughts running inside his mind. He kept his sight on the entrance of your building.

Maybe he’ll just wait for you.

He just doesn’t want to do anything wrong after a month of not having anything with you. He noticed how inactive you were everywhere. Even in your group chat. Nonetheless, he was glad that you did not block him in any of your social media accounts. The same photos were still posted on your Instagram feed. None were archived nor removed. Your last post was a snap of a meal he cooked for you three months ago. With a caption: My freelance personal chef made me this! His lips curved into a smile when he remembered that moment.

“A perfect ten just for the inviting aroma!” 

Like a little seal, you clapped your hands together as you inhaled the smell of his meal. Jin just shakes his head with your cuteness. He placed a fork beside your plate. He waited for you to finish typing in your phone before speaking,

“Food was supposed to be eaten.”

You held the fork and winked at him, “I just want to share with everyone I know that I have a personal chef.”

Jin simply chuckles and points his index finger on your plate, “Eat.”

After having your first mouthful of his spaghetti, you were squirming on your seat. He simply watched you with a smile. Even though you have the same happy gasp or humming tone every time he cooks for you, he always found you adorable. Sometimes, you would even try to say something. But with your mouth full, you were indistinct.  Jin will just nod and giggle at whatever you said.

“Teach me your recipe,” you told him after consuming water.

“Baby, it’s just basic spaghetti and meatballs.” he grinned while you rolled your eyes.

“You know, when you say it like that, you sound cocky,” you uttered. “I tried the recipe from that link you sent me before. It didn’t taste anything like this.”

“Well, maybe you should add little emotion to it. Like, love– Oh!”

He caught the table napkin you threw at him before he can finish his teasing.  He laughed at your sulking expression.

“That’s bullshit. You’re just saying things because you don’t want to share your very own recipe. If you won’t teach me anything, you would cook for us, for me in our whole remaining lifetime.” you tried scaring him.

But he just smiled and wiped the tomato sauce above your upper lip with his thumb, “It’s fine. I don’t mind cooking for you as long as I can.”

Too lost with recalling that event, Jin did not notice you walking out of the building. He just heard a couple of soft knocks on the passenger side. When he tilted his head in that direction, he saw you standing there with your bag clung to your shoulder. You just nod at him before he opened the lock. The familiar vanilla scent entered his nostrils as you sat on the seat.

“How long have you been here?” you asked, removing your bag from your shoulder and placing it on your lap.

He doesn’t know. He lost track of time ever since he arrived. 

“Not too long.” he just replied before turning the key, starting the car.

“You should have texted me. I was already free an hour ago.” you expressed, still using the same bland tone you used earlier in the morning. “Anyways– Wait, where can I put this?”

Jin cocked his head in your direction to see what you were talking about. You were holding the bottle of chocolate milk he bought before he picked you up. It seemed like it was no longer chilled. He looked at your plain expression first before he glanced back to the road.

“Uhm… I bought– It’s for you,” he stuttered as he felt blood rushing through his ears.

“For me?”

He felt his heart beating faster when your voice did not even sound surprised nor curious. Just plain and impassive. He swallowed the imaginary lump in his throat before he explained,

“Ah, yes. I saw you buying a cup of coffee earlier. It will probably make you have trouble sleeping later. I thought… Uhm, maybe your favorite chocolate milk will help you to have a good sleep.”

Silence took over for a few moments, making Jin more anxious as he felt sweat forming on his forehead even though the car was airconditioned. The heavy beating of his heart was too loud for him to look at your reaction.

“Uh, thanks,” you spoke out softly and almost inaudibly.

“No problem.”

Another minute of uncomfortable silence passed by again. Jin felt like he was stuck in a small box. His moves were limited and he cannot breathe properly. Until you clear your throat to break out the silence.

“So… About the dinner.” you began. “How are we going to tell them that… that we broke up?”

Straightforward as always, Jin thought. One of the innumerable reasons why he liked you in the first place. You were always direct with your words and actions. You always have the heart to confront people around you. You present yourself as an open book and never hide behind a facade. Whatever you’re feeling, it shows.

“Jin?” your cold calling of his name pulled him out of deep thought.

“Yes?”

“I said, should we tell them after or before dinner?” you repeated.

Is that even a thing? It’s crazy to think that you two still have to prepare for this. Like you two were some A-listers celebrities who need to share such a thing with the public. He wanted to ask you but it felt like a dumb question to ask. You seemed pretty ready to announce it to everyone. He wondered if you already told your family. How did they react? Did they respond well? Did you even tell them the reason why? Between you two, he is aware that you are the one who has the guts in everything. He still hasn’t told his parents about anything because how would they react? They already considered you as their daughter since Jin is the only child. He knew how much they love you.

“Jin, I need you to answer. I am not a mind reader.”

Again, you snapped him out of his thoughts. Finally, you had some emotions with your tone. But, it was a tone of slight annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” Jin spoke out. “We… We can tell them after dinner.”

You nodded as you chewed on your bottom lip. It became quiet again until he stopped the car in front of Younhee and Hiro’s suburban house. He was removing his seat belt when you noticed you not moving from your seat at all. Your eyes dart at your friends’ home outside your window. He can see your chest heaving slowly while your finger slightly shakes on your lap. He wanted to reach for your hands but stopped midway, thinking if it was the right thing to do. Silently shaking his head with his conflicting thoughts, he placed a hand on your yours. He almost shivered with how cold it was. You turned your gaze at him and he remembered the same eyes you have when he picked up his things from your house a month ago. 

“Let’s go?” he tried to say it the softest that he can.

He can tell that you were having second thoughts when you pursed your lips and looked back at the house then to your hands. He knows you too well to notice that small habit of yours, fidgeting on your ring finger. He winced when he also noticed that it was empty. Like you would keep the ring.

Jin cleared his throat, making you look at him again, “We don’t have to tell them now if–”

“No.” you cut him off with your voice stern. You ran your palms on your cheeks as you breathed out, “Let’s… Let’s just do this now.”

You said it like you were already desperate to get it out of your chest. He watched as you clung your bag back to your shoulder even though he told you that you can leave it in the car. Every step to Younhee and Hiro’s front yard felt like a step to deep, heavy mud. Jin gulped as he walked by your side. He took a glance at you, only to see you looking more nervous. The waves of laughter and chatters inside the house didn’t help. So, he stopped and turned to you, who paused too. He tried to read anything from your expression. Your eyes were purposely avoiding his while beads of sweat formed on your forehead. Your lips were red from all the biting you did while spacing out. Ever since he saw you earlier this morning, he already knew.

You’re tired. You’re worn out. He just wants to–

“What?” you asked him with eyebrows scrunched together.

“We don’t have to do this tonight if–”

“I told you, I’m fine, Jin. I want to do this today— tonight! So, let’s go–”

He just went for it. He wrapped you in his arms and he immediately felt your body tensing down. You did not say anything except a couple of sighs. Jin ran his hand up and down on your back, hoping to calm you down. He doesn’t know if this is the right thing to do with an ex. But he was your friend too. He was your friend first and he cannot stand seeing you like this.

“Oh, gosh. The lovebirds are here!”

Still having you in his arms, Jin turned at the front door. Two of your friends, Kaori and Nico, stood there.

“Come on in! The dinner’s almost ready!” Nico said.

Jin simply nodded while you slowly moved a distance from him. The other two walked back inside. He looked back at you again, you tried taming your hair and fixing your face with no mirror. You locked your eyes with him.

“How do I look?

Still a bit tense but more relaxed. Jin smiles softly, “Good.”

You walked ahead of him and he quietly followed behind. As soon as both of you got in, you were greeted by your friends. Some are still wearing their work clothes too like you. The dining table is all set, only waiting for the food to be served. Jin sat on the solo sofa in the living room while Anne and Younhee chats with you on the spacious orange couch. He tried to avert his focus on some type of movie Kaori played on the TV. But when he heard you chuckle, even it was short and almost forced, it still plays like a melody to his ears. All of the dialogues in the movie became indistinct while he hid his interest in listening to whatever topic you and your other friends have.

You only let out gasps and small chuckles with their stories. Jin wanted you to tell something about yourself since he wants to know how are you, especially this last month. Because when he asked you about it earlier this morning, you answered way too far from his question.

“How… How are you?”

  “Off to work.” 

   He was supposed to get his coffee in the same shop you came from, which surprised him when he saw you there since you once said before that you hated that shop.  But decided to just go back to his house. He thought of ordering some fast food breakfast again, just like what he’s been doing since you broke up. He lost interest in cooking outside his workplace. He rarely goes out either. When Hiro and Nico invited him to have some drinks a week after you two ended, he lied, saying he was busy at work. The truth is he was just spring cleaning at his house for the first time in his years of living there. Simply because he doesn’t feel at home in his own house. 

  The moment he got home after taking his things from your place, he noticed how uncomfortable his bed was. He found it weird like he was laying on a stranger’s bed. His blankets were too thin while his pillows are too soft like marshmallows. He felt like drowning when he rests his head on it. He was so used to the mixed smell of lavender and vanilla of your fabric conditioner that he became new with his usual one. He almost turned his place upside down with the amount of cleaning he did. In the corner of his bedroom, he has a box filled with your (probably) forgotten knick-knacks, a couple of lipsticks, and even some clothes. He never dared to message you about it.

   “Dinner’s ready!” Hiro’s voice was heard from the kitchen.

  Everyone stood from their places and walked to the dining table. Since you’ve been doing this for years, all of you already have some unspoken designated seats. Kaori and Nico sat on both ends of the table while Hiro, Yeonhee, and Anne sat together on the same row, leaving you and Jin sitting together.

   “What’s with the one space apart?” Anne pointed out the blank space between you and him.

   Jin looked at you silently and you nodded like you were letting him be close to you. After he took the space, everyone began telling stories again. You two laughed with their jokes and tried to get along while saving your so-called announcement for the last. When their plates were almost empty, Younhee went back to their kitchen and came back with desserts.

   “Oooh, this tastes good! What is this?” Kaori asked since she’s the first one to dig in the tub.

  “Oh, it’s a gelato I’ve been craving for some time now,” Younhee replied while Hiro stood beside her.

  Jin reached for an empty cup while you stared at the cold dessert with curious eyes. He asked you if you want some but you answered with a short wait.

   “What’s the flavor?” you asked your friend.

   “Sweet corn!” Younhee replied again.

   Hearing that, Jin felt your eyes on him. But he just continues scooping.

   “Jin,” you called him like a warning.

   But when he filled the cup, he handed it to you, “It’s for you.”

   Your lips formed a thin line as you accepted the cup. He stopped himself from smiling when he sees you smile after tasting the gelato. You unconsciously left the same cream above your lips. Instead of wiping it himself, Jin gave you the table napkin. You cleaned up your lips and looked at him. Not in a good way. But in a way that translates like we should tell them now. The warm feeling in him faded, now replaced with coolness starting from his feet going up. Although his heart beats wildly, Jin sighs and nods.

  “Uhm, guys.” Your voice was careful as you called your friends’ attention. “We have something to tell you.”

  Jin avoided the confused eyes of your friends. Underneath the table, Jin noticed your hands shaking on your lap. His hands felt cold but he still chose to hold yours too. It got your attention to him.

   “Oh, um, we’re announcing something too!” Younhee exclaimed, breaking the eye contact between you and Jin,

   “Oh, okay. We have some announcements now.” Nico quipped. “Who should go first?”

  You and Younhee eye each other. She smiled. It seemed like a piece of great news. Seeing this, Jin felt your grip tighter on his hand. He knew you were having second thoughts now. But Jin squeezed your hand tighter.

   “Let’s play rock paper and scissors!” Kaori recommended.

  Anne joined in, “That’s a bit childish. But yeah, let’s do that!”

   Younhee was quick to agree with Hiro supporting her. She placed her fist in the center. You looked at Jin and he nodded. With both of you unsure of what to do, he just decided to go with the flow. You two stood and you put your fist in front of Younhee’s. Like a tournament, everyone chanted the rock paper and scissors line. After two tries, she won.

   “Okay, to our couple who won, Hiro and Younhee, please declare your announcement,” Nico told them like he’s introducing a royalty, making everyone laugh except you and Jin.

   The two looked at each other with wide smiles before turning to everyone, “We’re having a baby!”

   What the fuck?

  Jin did not expect that kind of announcement. Yes, it’s a good thing. But, he thought maybe it’s some kind of promotion or another success with their other things. It’s a fucking great news. How are you going to tell about your breakup when such an event happened? Everyone ran to the couple and hugged them while Jin looked at you. He can see your glassy eyes as you bit your inner cheek. Jin squeezed your hand again, hoping to give you some encouragement even though he already felt messed up himself. You shake your head at him.

   “I… I can’t.” your voice shakes and your fragile image from a month ago flashbacked on his mind. “I can’t do this.”

    “Let’s just go?” Jin asked, not caring about the consequences of it. He can only think of you at this moment. You looked down and nodded. Tears were already dripping down your cheeks when he pulled you up from your seat.

   “Where are you two going?” Nico called out. “Don’t you say you can’t stand losing to that–”

   He paused when you turned around. Their smiles faded when they saw your expression while Jin looked down.

   “What happened?” Younhee, being the motherly figure she is, worriedly walked to you two.

   But you spoke out, “No, please.”

   Jin watched you wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. You cleared your throat as you tried to fix your posture in front of them.

  “We don’t have to tell them now,” Jin whispered but you just shook your head again.

   “Tell us what?” Kaori asked, shoving a bite of gelato in her mouth.

   “Webrokeup.” you announced so quickly that it became inaudible.

   Anne broke the silence, “I’m sorry, what? I think I misheard that. You did not say you broke up, right?”

   Instead of answering, you avoided their gaze. So, Jin answered, “Yes, we broke up. A month ago.”

   Just like an audience to a show, your friends gasped loudly. Younhee covered her mouth while Hiro supported her from her back. Kaori almost dropped her cup. Annie’s eyes widened. Nico’s eyebrows were raised above.

   “Is this a prank?–” Kaori spoke out. But her brother, Hiro, shushed him. “I’m just asking. Maybe they are just playing–”

   “No, it’s not a prank. It’s true. We already broke up.” you finally spoke.

   Jin felt you letting go of his hand. Everyone watched as you hugged Younhee. You whispered something to her and she replied with,

   “Yes, of course, it’s fine.”

  You walked back to Jin and mouthed, “Let’s go.”

   With no question, he nodded while you walked out with your bag. But, he gave a hug to both Hiro and Younhee while saying his congratulations to them. He also apologized and they just showed a small smile. He simply nods to their other friends, who are still surprised and just watched everything. Expecting to see you waiting for him outside, he was greeted by nothing but the warm summer air. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked around the place until he felt his phone dinged in his pockets.

   From Y/N

Thank you for the drive. I’m taking the bus. Take care.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @victoryscreech61​ @moonchild1​

​

TAGLIST

@jnshjjt @lilachaeyo​ @bringmetheksj​ @effielumiere​ @claricedelune​ @arisud​ @kianamj​ @teamtardis-notdead​ @circleroomtalk @rjsmochii​ @akshstudios​ @sojurnmichael @tan-dulset​ @agustdxjiminx​ @my-current-mood-is​ @cestlabellemort​ @nadiaislas @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @betysotelo18​ @kissme-ornot​​ @ccygll @dopedreamfireparty​ @satorinnie​ @delusionalsnack 

[extasiswings]

Ohhh 70 (“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”) OR 93 (“You’re more than that.”) for the prompt thing, whichever you prefer! I always adore your writing, thank you so much for sharing it with us ☺️

OR? No, both. And thank you, you're very sweet. On ao3 here.

Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.

And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.

A month after Eddie comes home from the hospital, Buck is having coffee with Carla while Eddie’s at a physical therapy appointment and he offhandedly says—

“Not sure why I never see Ana. You would think Eddie being shot would make her want to be around more, not less—”

“Buck,” Carla interrupts, a strange look passing over her face. “Honey...Eddie broke up with her three weeks ago.”

That stops Buck short, makes him feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs.

“What?” His mouth is dry. He swallows. “He—why?”

Carla picks up her cup and takes a long sip, as if she needs the extra seconds to figure out what to say, and Buck backtracks.

“No, forget it, that’s—it’s not my business,” he says. It’s not. Even if it feels a little like it should be, even if he doesn’t understand why Eddie would tell Carla and not him, even if he’s Eddie’s best friend—

Buck knows that Eddie’s a private person. He knows that sometimes Eddie keeps things close to his chest while he’s thinking them through. Eddie hadn’t said a word about Shannon until she walked into the station and aired their business for all of them to hear. He barely talked about Ana in the first place. He changed his will and sat on that information for a year—

Buck’s not upset it’s just—it feels—

The thing is.

The thing is…He’s not oblivious. He knows how he feels about Eddie. How he’s felt for at least the past two years. Like he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at him without feeling like he’s screaming with it, bleeding love all over, unable to stop it dripping from every pore. Exposed and pathetically obvious, and the whole time Eddie has just—said nothing. Ignored it, Buck assumes, because he can’t not have noticed, can’t not have seen.

And maybe sometimes Buck has wondered if Eddie wasn’t ignoring it. If he felt the same and just couldn’t say it. Because he was grieving and wasn’t ready—

But then he was. He was ready. And he chose Ana Flores.

That was the end of it. That was supposed to be the end of it. Because Buck’s not a masochist, he knows he hangs onto things for too long, but he’s been working on knowing when to let go.

Except—except Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck sat on a hospital bed and stared as Eddie said no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you and you act like you’re expendable…but you’re not and the words felt…heavy. The air, weighted. And Eddie couldn’t look at him and Buck could swear that he was trying to say—

Buck knows he shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of him that’s angry. That wants to pace and run and clasp Eddie’s face between his hands and ask really? Now? Because—because Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck barely survived it, thought if Eddie died, he would have died with him, was more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. But he did survive. And he moved on. He kissed Taylor. He closed the door.

So Eddie’s not allowed to make big declarations that he could have made a year ago and then break up with his girlfriend when Buck is finally trying—

Okay, maybe he’s a little upset.

The rest of him though—most of him, really—knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry. Which is why most of him is just…tired. Tired and terrified and still so in love.

Buck thinks maybe Eddie was right all those months ago. The universe doesn’t scream. It just laughs. At him.

“Buck?” Carla’s gaze is soft. Steady.

Buck clears his throat. Drains the last dregs of his coffee. He tries not to feel like he’s swallowed glass.

“Did I tell you I’m seeing someone?” He asks, forcing a smile. “She’s a reporter. She was—she was at Eddie’s homecoming actually, maybe you met her. It’s still pretty new, but we’ve been friends for a while. Going pretty well so far.”

Something flickers in Carla’s eyes, but she takes a breath and smiles.

“That’s great, Buckaroo,” she replies. “I’m happy for you.”

He’s trying. He’s really trying.

He doesn’t ask Eddie about the breakup.

*

Recovery is slow.

Buck doesn’t really like thinking about it as recovery because Eddie’s the one who got shot. Eddie’s the one who was in a sling and in physical therapy and had to spend months waiting to be well enough to get cleared to go back to work.

Eddie’s the one who got shot. The one whose blood flooded the street. The one who spent days unconscious in the hospital. The one who almost died.

Eddie’s the only one who has anything to recover from.

Dr. Copeland doesn’t agree. Buck mentions that he’s having trouble sleeping, that his chest gets tight if he goes too long without seeing Eddie and Christopher, that he can’t breathe sometimes when he’s on shift and Eddie’s out of sight.

She refers him out to a trauma specialist. He tries to argue that it’s not his trauma, but she just looks at him for a long moment.

“When you say you can’t sleep, is it insomnia? Or do you have nightmares that wake you up?”

Buck bites his lip and looks down at his hands. When he blinks, they’re streaked with red. When he blinks again, they’re clean. He curls his fingers into fists to prevent them from shaking.

“A little of both,” he admits.

“And when it’s nightmares, what are they about?”

“…blood.” Eddie’s blood in the street, on his hands, splashed across his face, on his tongue—

She hums.

“Evan,” she says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. And just because you weren’t shot yourself doesn’t mean you didn’t experience something traumatic. You’re allowed to seek treatment.”

Buck swallows. “I feel like…I should be better by now,” he admits. “Better than this. Shouldn’t it be easier?”

“Recovery is a process,” Dr. Copeland replies. “A journey. And it doesn’t always move in a straight line. There’s no timetable.”

Recovery. He makes a face.

But, he goes to see the specialist. He’s not sure how much it helps.

Blood splashing across his face, water running red, skin scrubbed raw—

Buck sits up gasping, cold sweat beading across his brow. Taylor is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, the distance between them a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. He doesn’t know if he wants to even if he did.

He shivers. Grabs his phone. Quietly descends the steps of the loft to settle on the couch.

“Buck. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gravelly and soft from sleep. Buck winces.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie replies. “You know I don’t mind.”

Eddie pauses. “What was it tonight?”

Buck exhales shakily. “Your heart stopped in the truck before we could get to the hospital. I couldn’t get it to start again. I know it didn’t happen that way, but I still—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m okay. That—it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah.” It felt real though. Buck can still feel ribs cracking under phantom compressions, the slick of blood on his hands. He can taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth.

“What do you need?”

Buck stretches out and closes his eyes, the phone pressed hard to his ear.

You. Just you. Always you.

“Can you—” His throat clicks. “Can you just talk? It doesn’t matter about what, I just—”

I need to hear your voice. I need to hear you alive.

“Christopher picked a project for the science fair,” Eddie says. “You have to promise to act surprised when he tells you though. He’s really excited.”

“Oh yeah? I can do that. What is it?”

“Well…”

Buck falls asleep again with Eddie’s voice in his ear and he doesn’t dream again. Taylor wakes him on the couch in the morning, an odd look on her face—he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not her fault. She just can’t help him. Perhaps she never could.

Buck thinks maybe there’s still a part of her that wants him to chase her. But he’s in no condition to chase anyone, even if he wanted to. It takes enough out of him to hold himself together. And to fight against what seems more and more inevitable.

So. Maybe he should stop fighting it.

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face as he sits up.

“I think we should probably talk,” he says quietly.

Taylor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sinks down onto the couch next to him.

“I think we should.”

It ends as quickly as it began.

*

Christmas takes him by surprise. It’s not that Buck doesn’t notice the fall slipping away—a Halloween shift, a Veteran’s Day that has Eddie a little quieter, a little shakier, than usual, and Thanksgiving lasts practically a whole week with all the leftovers that end up in the station—but somehow it doesn’t fully register until he looks up at the calendar in the middle of December and sees a smiling Christmas tree sticker on a date ten days out. They’re not working, so the only question is where he’s going to end up, if anywhere. Although, he supposes even that’s not really a question.

He knows where he’ll end up.

Five days before Christmas, a last-minute tree has been wrangled into the Diaz house and Buck is fighting with a tangled set of lights while Eddie pulls out wrapping paper and ribbons and retrieves the hidden stash of gifts for Christopher from his closet. Christopher himself is fast asleep in his room, worn out from the day of running around, and without the extra person to focus on Buck takes a moment and lets himself just...watch Eddie. Sitting on the floor in low light with his legs stretched out, surrounded by ornaments and boxes and stray clippings and a small pile of somewhat lumpy, clumsily wrapped gifts, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on trying to figure out the right way to fold the wrapping paper—

There’s a stray piece of tinsel in his hair and a laugh catches in Buck’s throat, even as the rest of him aches with a sudden, fierce urge to brush it away.

He aches. Because this—this is what he wants. Eddie and Christopher and going around town to finish the Christmas shopping, picking out a tree and decorating it as a family, coming home to this day after day after day and knowing it’s where he’s supposed to be—

Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and it was the worst moment of Buck’s life. He thinks sometimes that he would rather have his leg crushed under a thousand ladder trucks than risk going through that again, but—but running away didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Dating Taylor didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Time hasn’t made him feel anything less, if anything it’s just cemented things.

So...so if Eddie is going to have the power to hurt him that badly regardless of whether Buck admits it out loud, if the risk of loss is going to be there anyway...shouldn’t he at least get to have everything? All the good parts?

Don’t they deserve the chance to be happy?

“Buck?” Eddie’s brow is furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

Buck opens his mouth, intending to reassure him, but what comes out is—

“Are you in love with me?” Eddie freezes and Buck resists the urge to panic and take it back.

“Because—” Buck clears his throat. “Because sometimes I think you might be, and—”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, barely a breath, but that single word hangs in the air. Buck’s heart races.

“You could have told me,” he replies. “Why—why didn’t you just—?”

Eddie looks away and Buck catches a familiar look flickering across his face. Doubt, shame, fear—everything that he himself has felt—

Oh.

Blind spots.

He never considered that Eddie might be just as afraid of rejection as he is. He never considered that what’s been so painfully obvious to him, might not have been to Eddie himself.

Buck gets up from the couch, stepping carefully around the mess on the floor until he can kneel down next to Eddie. Eddie, whose jaw is tight, shoulders tense, like he’s waiting for a blow.

“After everything we’ve been through...you still don’t know that I love you?” Buck asks quietly.

Eddie sucks in a startled breath, turning back to look at him, his gaze searching. Buck holds it steadily and waits. It’s not the first time he’s walked out on a limb. But it is the first time he’s had someone else out there with him.

If it cracks this time, they’ll fall together.

“I didn’t think—” Eddie’s eyes close briefly as he clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was enough.”

“You are,” Buck replies. “You’re more than—Eddie—”

“We have a life,” he says when he can get his thoughts in line. “We built a life. Together. Even if we didn’t say that was what we were doing, it’s what we did. So, maybe—maybe we can try being a little more honest about what we want while we’re living it? I don’t—I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

Eddie looks down—then, he reaches out slowly for Buck’s hand, his fingers finding the spaces between Buck’s and slotting in.

Buck squeezes gently. Eddie squeezes back.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s try that.”

Buck does pluck the tinsel from Eddie’s hair, but when he tosses it away, his hand comes right back, fingers sliding into the strands to keep Eddie still. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but his lips curve faintly up as Buck leans in.

Kissing him feels like coming home.

[helenazbmrskai]

This Boy Is Not A Toy 2

Pairing – [Bodyguard! Jungkook x Mafia Heiress! Reader]

Genre – [Angst, Smut, Fluff, Bodyguard AU, Mafia AU, Casino AU, Strangers To Lovers, Romance]

Summary – [You’re the problematic heiress of your father’s blooming crime den who’s getting her fifteenth bodyguard this month. Everyone warned Jungkook that you’re crazy but he’s up for a good challenge.]

Warnings – [future smut, triggering topics discussed (!), objectification of woman, cat calling, illegal activity, mention of sexual acts, y/n has the hots for jk, prejudice, violence, protective jk]

Word Count – [4k]

Menu: Masterlist l Be part of my permanent taglist to recieve a notification when I upload a new fic or send an ask!  

⤷ This Boy Is Not A Toy [Series Masterlist]

Jungkook went to his room that’s directly next to yours after you relieved him of his duty for the rest of his day and true to your words you didn’t leave your bedroom after you showered (he made sure to listen closely for the sound of your door opening occasionally just in case you tried to trick him) and finished the last pages of your romance novel.

All you did was lounging on your bed and doing your beauty routine as the clock was nearing ten pm, getting your face clean before you applied your face mask like you do every day.

You tried to unwind as much as you could but things just didn’t seem to go in your favour, starting with your new bodyguard who’s sleeping less than a few feet and a thin wall away from you.

As much as you would have liked to be greeted with a dreamless slumber when your head hit your pillow, you kept thinking about the handsome man and how he reacted to you and the hired staff today, especially to Taehyung. You could pick out Taehyung’s angry voice behind closed doors when you were changing your clothes but they were too far away for you to actually understand anything from what he said.

While Jungkook pretended to be ignorant of you he shoved Taehyung’s hands from over your shoulders like a protective boyfriend which confused you. You couldn’t make sense of the whole interaction with him all day. One moment he acts like he’s wishing your immediate death and the second he goes all protective and while you know it’s his job to protect you it doesn’t justify his strong reactions when men try to do something inappropriate in his book. There’s something about him that keeps you on your toes. All your attempts are futile to think about anything else as your eyes close on their own and the claws of unconsciousness surround your tired form.

You’re up early you have no time to waste as you have plenty to do. Jungkook is at the meeting with the security team when you go downstairs to have breakfast missing him going through the hallway with a few minutes that is welcomed since it gives you a few more minutes of freedom of his looming presence.

You’re accustomed to the routine as it happens every morning in order to have everything run smoothly in the house. As far as you know they discuss your and your father’s schedule for the day and every other pressing matter in between, making sure that they’re prepared to keep you both safe. Jimin runs the security team seamlessly and whilst you still remember the lanky boy who sought out your father for a potential job years ago he climbed up the ladder and earned everyone’s respect in the household.

Everything that happened to Jaehyuk last year you tried to avoid pulling up your walls when you’re around your most trusted friends but it’s easier said than done. You raised them without you knowing and now you can’t seem to let them fall anymore.

You’re well aware that Jimin blames himself for what happened but you know better than to do the same, it was out of your and his control and he shouldn’t be held responsible for what happened. Shaking the thought away to get out of your head you left almost half of your food untouched on your plate. It’s getting easier to keep yourself occupied these days, you no longer wake up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and you think less and less about the bloodbath that happened right in front of your eyes.

It’s going to be a busy day so you sip your coffee lowly humming the song that’s playing on the radio while you wait for your bodyguard. You can’t leave the house without him and even if you tried he could hunt you down with ease. Running away is not an option, he’s like a hound you swear he could tell where you are. His tracking skills are actually scary. The first thing on your list is getting a dress for the open night at Jin’s casino.

Whilst you don’t give a shit normally about how you look it’s beyond you this time as you’ll show up as Seokjin’s date for the night. You can’t embarrass him with jeans and slippers as you would do with anyone else and even though you’re not close with Seokjin particularly, Namjoon is your dear friend.

That’s why you’re dragging him with you. Unlike the rich kids your age, you don’t go around having shopping sprees at least two times a week even if technically you could do it with your black card at your beck and call. The other thing that’s unlike girls like you is that your friends are all males. You feel safer in the presence of them, your friends are all honest and straightforward people and while you know that not all girls are gossippers and bad blood you try to keep your life as drama free as you can considering that you’re the heiress of your father’s crime empire. Your little gang is an anomaly in the system that not even your powerful fathers could get rid of. On paper, you’re all enemies but behind closed doors, you’re just people trying to let go of some steam and fit in.

Jungkook doesn’t let the surprise appear on his face when you meet with Kim Namjoon at the mall.

Jungkook never met the man before but either way, there’s no way that he hasn’t heard about him, after all, he’s the younger one of the two sons Mr Kim has and everyone knows Mr Kim thanks to his successful casino that homes a lot of illegal gambling activity and while it’s just a rumour he’s not too shocked if it were true and he has multiple money laundering businesses behind the scenes.

Jungkook moves in reflex when Namjoon goes for a hug as he greets you but your glare makes him freeze in the motion of reaching you. The other male is blissfully unaware as his back faces Jungkook, his head tucked into your neck while you two hug. He misses out on the daggers you send through Jungkook’s body warning him that if he ever lays a single finger on your friend he has a thing or two coming his way. You’re very protective of your friends. You’re not going to let an ignorant and judgemental bodyguard hurt someone because he can’t differentiate between danger and harmless affection. You know it’s your father’s doing. He did this with your previous bodyguards as well. You know by now how this goes, all of them get a list of the possible threats and your friends are on that list.

As soon as you two part Namjoon turns to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence who stands a few feet away from the both of you.

”I’m Namjoon I’m guessing you’re Y/N’s new bodyguard. Nice to meet you.” Jungkook’s taken aback by how laid back Namjoon is. This is far the nicest greeting anyone offered him once he took over the role of protecting you. He has an easy smile on his face with no traces of malice on it when he introduces himself to Jungkook for the first time.

Analysing your relaxed posture and how close you’re standing to each other you clearly feel safe around him. Even when you’re surrounded by the house staff you remain stiff and avoid contact with the household as much as you could, the only exceptions are Jimin, the head of security and Taehyung your personal trainer and Jimin’s subordinate in the security team that he’s now part of.

The man who your father calls another enemy (on the long list that he received on his first day) seems to be actually one of the few closest friends that Jungkook has seen you interact with carefreely due to the short time he spent with you.

”I’m Jungkook.” You’re pleased when he accepts the handshake and even tells him his name.

You were expecting an attitude that always happened with your previous guards. Your smile is genuine this time aimed directly at him as you watch them interact briefly before you tug on Namjoon’s sleeve and intertwine your arms to get started with the dress hunting.

Jungkook follows you silently during the whole time you spend looking for dresses but always a few steps behind not to cause any problems as you clearly showed your displeasure when he’s sticking too close for comfort that you can’t ignore his presence following you like a stalker. You know it’s his job to look at you but you can’t help your reactions showing up on your face from time to time.

Jungkook admitted to himself before that he thinks you look beautiful. You’re not too thin like girls these days, you have defined muscles from the hours you spend working out and even without makeup, you look naturally pretty. Pretty doesn’t mean that you don’t have acne you’re pretty in an imperfect way and you don’t try to cover your beauty marks with heavy makeup. You’re exactly his type so when you move the curtains in front of you to the side for the first time revealing your body in a black modest dress reaching your mid-thigh in length he can’t seem to keep his reaction not to show on his face. You twirl around for show and while Jungkook knows you’re not showing off for him he can’t make himself look away.

Namjoon hands you a pair of black high heels to match the outfit and you softly place your palm on his shoulder to keep your balance as you slip into the shoes.

”You look beautiful Y/N. Jin will lose his fucking mind if he sees you in this.” You get shy at the compliment and to cover your embarrassment you playfully punch his shoulder giggling when he feigns being hurt by your jab. You momentarily forget about Jungkook standing at the far corner until your eyes unexpectedly meet.

You keep eye contact for a moment longer before you look away, trying not to think too much of the look you could discern on your bodyguard’s face. It looked like he wanted to say something but schooled his features before the compliment could slip past his lips.

”Maybe I should go for different shoes, I feel a little wobbly on my feet in these.” Jungkook’s eyes immediately goes to the hand Namjoon has on your waist to stabilise your footing but refrains from acting on it as you don’t seem to mind the placement. It’s not an inappropriate touch, you’re close to your friends that you don’t bat a single eyelash when they bury their nose into your neck for comfort or they hold you close in a brotherly manner. Their gestures are often interpreted the wrong way but there’s no use in correcting them as they will believe what they want.

”You need these, my brother is pretty tall. Jungkook can hold onto you until you find Jin so it should be fine.” You nod your head, not spearing a glace at Jungkook even when his name is spoken by Namjoon’s lips all the while he keeps his eyes trained on you.

You change back to your clothes and make your way to the register to pay for your goods. There’s a second part to your shopping trip as you next chose a tailor shop for men.

Jungkook thinks that Namjoon will pick something as he wasn’t notified that you’ll do anything other than look for a dress but follows you two inside without a complaint. You look at the suits making silent measurements in your head as you search for something specific that would look good on your bodyguard.

You see a black suit with dark blue thin stripes laid in a vertical pattern that gives the piece a little unique touch but from a distance, it looks like an ordinary black set. You wave the assistant over and point at the clothes on the rack, seeing that it has matching ties and dress pants as well.

”Do you have this suit in his measurements?” This time you look at Jungkook and the shopping assistant looks him over to grasp which size would fit him best. She excuses herself to look it up at the database while Jungkook looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. His doe eyes are significantly bigger as he trips over his words.

”What- I- thank you miss but I don’t need-” He’s adorable when he doesn’t know how to react, you almost feel sad that you have to halt his rambling. You would like to see him flustered more often.

”Jungkook. While I don’t particularly care what you wear I have to keep up appearances for my father’s sake. Everyone inside the casino will nitpick every single detail about me and since you’re coming with me you’ll be a subject to that as well. I’ll have to make sure they don’t have anything to complain about.”

If he were one of your friends you would place a comforting hand on his shoulder but you keep your hands in check. There’s a clear boundary between you two and you’re not naive enough not to see how he dislikes you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. Dislike is a strong word maybe as you’re not well acquainted with each other to express such strong emotions. It’s the first time that you’re wanting to get close to your bodyguard after what happened to Jaehyuk.

Whilst it’s the sheer curiosity to find out more about what kind of man he is and what made him be the stoic man that he is now. It’s a dangerous thought to entertain and you know that you should nip this feeling in the bud before it fully blooms.

After all, history always repeats itself. You need to be more on guard from now on if you want to keep you and him safe.

”I’m sorry if it crosses a line but you need to wear this at least to the casino. There’s nothing I can do about it.” You finish your sentence just in time when the assistant comes back with the right suit in hand and places it into Jungkook’s outstretched hands thanking the lady softly before he goes into the changing room to make sure it fits.

Your tongue unconsciously comes out to lick your dry lips when he steps out, the suit hugs his body in the right places. The dress pants make his muscular legs seem longer and the topcoat reveals his petite waist as a single button keeps the material snug against his torso.

Namjoon suddenly whistles next to you which makes you almost jump out of your skin. The minute that you stepped through the doors he went his way to pick out some suits for himself just for fun letting you and Jungkook have your little moment.

”It looks like this suit was made for you Jungkook. Y/N has exceptional eyes indeed.”

You smile at the backhanded compliment. It’s not a lie though as you always pick out your friend’s suits since you have a good eye for them. It saves them the trouble of having to choose themselves as well. Especially Yoongi who hates suit fittings with a passion.

”I didn’t do anything. Jungkook could make everything look like it was made for him. I just picked out something.” You shrug simply looking at anywhere that’s not him.

Namjoon is surprised you’re not one to give out compliments left and right but Jungkook misses the shocked look on Namjoon as he himself avoids making eye contact.

It’s the first time that Jungkook hears this type of genuine compliment from a woman. He heard a lot of things in his life, he’s not innocent either as women always praise his body proportions but no one complimented him without an eerie undertone.

Those women always wanted something from him. Memories flashing before his eyes as his fist clenches at his sides when he thinks about all those women who took advantage of his low status. Using his body while he couldn’t move his bound hands or remove his blindfold.

”Is this ok? You can pick out something else if you’d like.” Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction, his mind clearing of the disturbing thoughts as he regards himself in the mirror. This suit fits him right and it’s as comfortable as a suit can get he doesn’t mind the fact that you choose it either.

”This is fine.” Your bodyguard offers in a reserved tone (making sure that there’s no emotion displayed on his face) as he pulls the blinds closed again to get this over with and have his leisure clothes back on. Jungkook received your schedule from Jimin this morning and he knows that your day is far from over.

Except for the first day that he met your father he wasn’t wearing suits to work due to your request to pull less attention to the both of you when you’re out. He wasn’t protesting at all since he never liked wearing them.

Jungkook waits for you outside once he changed while you and Namjoon pay for the clothes, he keeps his eyes on you both, the reason that he stands guard at the entrance of the shop and not by your side is that he doesn’t want to see the digits on the paycheck as he knows it wouldn’t sit well with him to let you pay for a suit that costs that much amount of money if he knew the real price. The job pays him well but even if that’s the case he still knows that he wouldn’t be able to pay for all this.

He has enough to pay for his rent and purchase plenty enough of food. Right now he lives with you and your family at your mansion but he has to keep paying for his apartment since he won’t be your bodyguard forever, he needs to keep a place that he can return to when you no longer need his services. He also just joined a gym membership last week.

When he was a fighter he had access to the gym all of them used to practice without having to pay for it as his wins earned him plenty of privileges but after he quit he couldn’t afford to go to one and pay the entrance fee.

This is the most someone offered to pay for him that doesn’t involve his body inappropriately either fighting or for sexual purposes so he swore to stick to you and this job for as long as your father allows him to. He needs the money he promised his mother that he’ll buy her a house and he’s adamant to keep his promise.  

It’s nearing lunchtime when you part ways with Namjoon and leave the mall in a SUV with a tinted black window to keep your identity a mystery. You’re touched when you see your friend follow the car with his eyes until you leave the parking lot making sure you’re safely out before he hops behind the wheels of his own car.

Unlike when Jungkook accused you (in his head) of not having a job and just living off of your father’s wealth he couldn’t be any more wrong than that. You work as a professional interpreter, speaking five different languages to help your father seal deals with people that live in different parts of the world. This lunch you’re scheduled to have is about business as well.

You arrived back home an hour before the meeting with the investors so you had time to take a shower and shimmy yourself into a semi-formal dress paired up with your favourite nude heels. You let your hair down and styled it to frame your face in loose waves while you kept your makeup natural with a touch of lipgloss.

You and your father ride in the first car to the location while Jungkook and Jimin and five other security members ride in a second one right behind yours.

The Chinese associates are right on time to arrive at the restaurant just like you and your father exit the vehicle.

Each party bows respectfully, letting you and your father sit first before they do.

The restaurant is empty although the time must be around rush hour, the owner is your father’s good friend so it’s not unusual for you to speak to clients in here and have the whole place to yourselves. The wine appears right after the chef himself takes your orders.

The two men don’t even try to hide how they stare at your cleavage the whole time you explain the details to them in their mother tongue. You ignore the nickname the man on the left calls you as you translate the question for your father to understand.

”Something feels fishy to me here. I think we shouldn’t make a deal with them.” You whisper the words right into your father’s ears. It seems like they’re more interested in your breasts than making any kind of business deal and that makes you feel unsettled.

Your father nods despite not knowing the exact words they use he can tell that you’re letting out details when they speak to you. Everyone in the room can tell their intentions clear as day. Jimin is furious he wants nothing more than to punch both of them square in the face for treating you like a piece of meat. The older associate reaches out into your personal space to tuck a strand of hair behind your ears but before he could execute his bold move Jungkook moves faster than lightning and catches the man’s wrist before it could even get close to touching your skin.

”Tell him that if I see him trying to touch you one more time I’m breaking his wrist.”

You’re shocked, to say the least. You didn’t think Jungkook will be this protective it’s not the first time it happens but it is certainly new to feel this type of calmness to be protected by him.

You translate his words and the man shoots back into his seat as if Jungkook burnt him. The former sends a last glare at the Chinese man before he takes his place next to Jimin again but he’s clearly ready to jump at him at any given moment that he deems he’s acting out of line. Jimin pats your bodyguard’s back as to silently say his thanks when he gets back to his position and the lunch goes forward without any more incidents.

Jungkook is impressed, you shift between your language and the foreign one that you speak perfectly while you talk about business. Your gaze is levelled and your posture demands respect. In the end, you end up making a deal with them but they get less involved in the partnership than what your father initially wanted to discuss he doesn’t take it lightly when his daughter is being mistreated.

Jungkook wasn’t the only one impressed either as your father found his quick response pleasing. He had a good feeling about hiring Jungkook and it seems like that his intuition wasn’t fooling him.

The lunch left you in a foul mood for the rest of the day, you retreated into your room earlier than before as Jungkook found himself being excused way earlier than prior to this day.

He could tell that something was bothering you but you closed your door on his face before he could even say goodnight to you.

You needed to get your mind off of things so you ran yourself a bath and ordered takeout. It was depressing to eat alone in the kitchen but it’s not like your friends are allowed inside the house, on paper they’re your father’s enemies and you’re lucky you can even keep in contact with them outside of the mansion.

[liquid-luck-00]

Where There Is Change

Last Name Wayne

@maribat-bdbwm

First *** Previous *** Next

Okay so I know I diverged from cannon, but I think you’ll all like this.

~~~~~~~~~~

The moment that Damian agreed, they left.

She immediately placed their phones and electronics into storage, so this game would be a little more fun.

Mari "chose" the first place that they teleported to was Paris. The irony was not lost on her.

The place that kicked her out was the first place that would open up to her. But then again most of the city adored Marinette they loved Lady Scarlet even more, but that wasn't general knowledge.

She and Damian know it is a matter of time before B figures they left the country, but hey. They mostly stuck to going between super cities in the U.S. before. But right now, it mostly was her showing him around the city the museums and then getting really inspired by the scenery.

If she was prepared with several different sketch books and pencils for both of them it was an added bonus.

She knows she subconsciously picked Paris and after a few hours it might be smart to jump again. So, she let Damian decide on a place where he wanted to go. He did warn her that if they were spotted, they need to leave immediately, but she didn’t really see a problem with it.

Because granted they’re both Wayne's, and Wayne's if you know them well enough, they will be able to hand your ass back to you on a silver platter smiling as if it was the greatest thing in the world.

So, they jumped again.

This time it was her turn to be awed by what they saw.

They were in a small alcove completely hidden; in the cave they were in the face of it was covered by bushes. But looking out she saw the mountains in the far distance it appeared to be a lake no it was larger maybe it was the ocean. Right below her was a lush courtyard filled with plant she's only seen and one other place, but the heat here was tremendous, and the sea that she could see was in the wrong direction. Apart from being far, far, far too close to where she originally thought they were.

She was going to lean forward a bit and completely break through the bushes that were covering them when a hand pulled her back. She looks back and sees her little brother holding onto her.

"We have to stay hidden Nettie, are above the League of Assassins." He whispered so quiet she could barely hear him about ten inches away, so she’s not taking this lightly.

She nodded, and they stayed there, silent. The only sound was of graphite on paper.

Then everything changed.

On instinct Marinette shot out her arm, a wooden imperial yo-yo appeared in her hand, with a quick flick of her wrist she stopped the projectile, lodging it within the wood. A quick glance at her brother and she opened up portal behind him and pushed him through without a word, closing it behind him.

She knows that it’s more dangerous if they find him here than her, so she stayed behind.

She removed the projectile and examined it, a blow dart likely with poison, seeing as a liquid was seeping into the wood of the yo-yo. She created a replica of the dart and stored the poisonous one and her yo-yo back in storage.

She took a quick breath and punctured her arm where the dart should have originally landed. And fell to the ground, slumped down.

She kept her face relaxed her body limp and she felt three, four, five separate sickly deathly auras around her. She kept her breathing at minimum, light, almost as if she was asleep. They picked her up and moved her. She realized immediately that she was being taken down the mountain, taken deeper into the League of Assassins.

Five assassins she can take them. But the one thing repeatedly crossing her mind was one phrase.

'How dare these assholes mess with her family! Her little brother! They are going to pay!'

Because she is a Wayne, and Wayne’s protect their own.

She was eventually dropped in a large room, from what she can tell, if the echoes were any indication to what she was thinking the size of the room could be. There were three more auras in this room, aside from the ones she passed to get here. What surprised her was she recognized all three.

Still acting unconscious, she heard a woman’s voice, Talia Al Ghul, speak. "What business do you have to bring this child here?" It was phrased as a question but seemed more like a snarl or demand than anything else.

"She was captured on the grounds. She’s an unknown." Was what was reported by one of the people in who had dragged her down here.

Then she heard a chuckle.

"She’s awake." That voice, she recognizes that voice. Her entire previous plan was now completely out the window. So, she lazily pushes herself up, pulling out the dart once she was on her feet.

"Damn, I thought that would last a little longer." She finally looked up and saw Damian's clone, Heretic, Talia, and Al Ghul. But something was wrong, it was bothering her. Al Ghul, he, he… he wasn’t Demon, he wasn’t her Demon anymore. All she recognized now is his voice, at least that’s what she told herself, nothing else was the same as a person she once knew. The question now is why. "I really shouldn’t have introduced you to the Order, if the result would have been this?" A smirk on her lips and now standing cocky in the middle of a room full of assassins, she is stalling. He is acting like he knows her, but his aura is indecipherable, familiar, but not.

"You should not have, but then I wouldn’t be here today, to thank you, would I? After all you allowed our family to find these pits." ‘Our Family’ she dove into her memories, but now that she needed them, they were far away and fuzzy, God damn it.

"Hmmm, I suppose not. Right now, I really wish I had turned you into a cat permanently. I found the correct spell, so I actually can now." This elicited yet another chuckle from Al Ghul which had everyone else in the room on edge.

"Really now I love to see it, after all I wasn’t able to experience it before you vanished." She quirked an eyebrow at this response, but she didn’t care about his mind games, she was stalling, trying to find out what caused this change. All her mind supplied were the plants outside. Demon wasn’t good with plants, but he was with animals, so how.

"Really you don’t wanna know why am actually here?" She asked, looking so innocent, one might believe that she was there merely an accident or coincidence.

She then turned towards Heretic, death in her blue eyes was all anyone could see, but she didn’t kill him. No, she couldn't bring herself to kill him. He may have killed her baby brother, but he is

Damian’s clone, but that clone was nothing but a poor imitation of her brother. With a snap of her fingers, he transformed into a statue of a panther, mouth opening for a roar. In all accounts looking intimidating, but there’s no way to be scared of a statue.

"That was for killing my little brother." She crossed her arms now glaring daggers towards Talia.

"I wasn’t aware you had a little brother, Lady Cheng." Demon never called her Lady Cheng, no to him she was Malak (Angel), but…

That was when the pieces fell into place. That’s why the older Damian looks like a cross between Demon and Bruce. That’s why Damian turned into a panther cub. Damian is Amir’s reincarnation, the true soul of the black cat. That means, in front of her stood Ra’s, Amir’s older twin brother. That’s why he could read the journal, he is a miraculous soul. And only miraculous souls know the language of miracles, without decades of studying the script. It’s ingrained in them but only accessible after coming in contact with old magic, miraculous magic.

"One, the name is Wayne. Two that’s because at the time that I met the both of you 600 years ago, I didn’t even know I had siblings. So, get this through your head, I don’t care that he is your son or your grandson. He is my little brother. Nothing will stop me from making sure my family is safe." Her voice stayed level, emotion flitted in and out of it, in such a way that it almost seemed inhuman. For more reasons than one, she just sensed one of the Lazarus Pits.

"Scarlet." She heard gasped by the woman next to Ra’s.

"Correct." She glared at them walking closer as she said so. "My name is Marinette Wayne, and you best remember to never mess with creation. I would have thought you would remember that little Lǎohǔ (Tiger)."

By her walk over a sword had appeared in each hand, which she was now holding up to Lǎohǔ‘s neck, while the second was held right at the base of Talia's spine, almost daring her to move. The threat hung in the air, and both knew she was capable of following through.

"Well, I do believe it’s best to catch up over some tea." Lǎohǔ offered, many would have taken his offer. Because if the Demon’s head offers it, it would be your funeral if you refused, but she wasn’t just anyone. "After all we haven’t seen each other, in nearly 600 years, now have we, much must’ve happened to you."

"Hmmm... not really you’d be surprised. By what has become of my life been since meeting you." She decided to put away her blades, for the time being. Seeing as she couldn’t leave without destroying the Pits. The only surviving consequence of the Miraculous wish, cast ages ago. Now time to come up with a plan.

---

"Are you sure about this Pigtails?" Plagg spoke up.

"Ancient magic like this calls for a price." She sighed.

"We know, Marinette, but your little brother." Tikki voiced.

"I'll do everything I can to keep all of them safe." She spoke resolutely.

"But can you live with this?" Tikki asked.

"I have to be able to. Besides I'm pretty sure he is your true kitten, Plagg." She reassured.

Tikki and Plagg united their powers, and were able to destroy the pit, and every other one on Earth. Then disappeared. She opened a gate knowing what is coming.

---

Somewhere in the league of Assassins was the Demon's head and his daughter, looking royally pissed as they watch a timer tick down. Seeing as Marinette decided to freeze them with venom, so she could destroy the Lazarus Pits.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug @astoriaandroses @icerosecrystal @t1dwarrior-of-earth @moon5606 @zalladane @midnightrosecrystal @myazael @prettylittlebutterflie @toodaloo-kangaroo @roseisred @galaxymoon @queenz-z

Story Taglist: @ladybug-182 @nerd-nowandforever @stelliones @trippingovermyfeet @thepaceperson @all-mights-asscheeks @another-cancer @alyssadeliv @mep-kittyjustkillme @ravennm84 @chocolatecatstheron @jayjayspixiepop @missanalysis @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @aespades @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @ritacrow-blog @frieddonutsweets @laurcad123 @ashbrea381writings @jjmjjktth

[doctenwho]

Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.  

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.  

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.  

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.  

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.  

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.  

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.  

Both his pride, and his hearts.  

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.  

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.  

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.  

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.  

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.  

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.  

It was silly.  

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.  

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.  

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.  

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.  

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.  

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.  

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.  

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.  

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.  

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.  

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.  

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.  

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.  

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.  

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.  

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.  

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.  

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.  

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.  

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.  

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

--

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.  

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.  

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.  

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.  

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.  

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.  

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.  

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.  

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

[sullina]

Zeldris stepped back. It was barely noticeable but a look of shock, hurt, and betrayal passed over his face before it hardened itself into a sneer,

"You 'forgot' us!? Were you so bust chasing that goddesses skirts you forgot the way you betrayed us!? Or did you really expect us to just 'forget' about you in return?"

Straw let out a squeak of terror as the demon moved faster that he could comprehend, one second Zeldris was standing in front of him, the next he was in the ground with a clawed hand around his throat just barely able to breathe.

Straw struggled trying the get the words out and the stronger demon off of hum,

"N-no! I... I mean... ghkh!"

The claw tightened, cutting off his air supply. Straws struggles turned frantic, eyes bulging as the demon hissed in rage. No matter what he did he couldn't escape, we wasn't strong enough! His darkness manifested its own claw almost unconsciously un he desperation, the vlond swiping at a ything he could get his hands on with the craze of a wild animal in an attempt to breathe as his vision got spotty and he felt more and more lightheaded and the burn in uis chest grew and grew.

There was a yelp and suddenly he could breathe again, oxygen hitting his system leaving him gasping as he collapses onto the ground panting. His eyes are squeezed shut as he took in sweet sweet air but he heard muttered expletives in a unfamiliar yet paradoxically familiar language. When he finally opened his eyes he noticed Zeldris cursing, hand covering one eye. He turned to glare at Straw, hands balling up into fists as he hissed. Four lines of red spread from his eyebrow to his neck, barely missing damage to his eye.

Straw has scratched him without even meaning to in his desperate struggle, some fight or flight instinct telling him to lash out.

"You're dead, Brother!" The now thoroughly enraged demon stalked towards Straw who desperately tried to crawl back. He hear shouting and suddenly Hawk was there,

"Oi! Leave him alone ya bastards!"

"H-Hawk!?" Straw stammered as the pig turned to give him a grin. Then he noticed just who his adversary was. Zeldris and Estarossa loomed over the pig, black auras of rage surrounding them. The pig began to sweat before abruptly turning and forcing the demon he did know onto his back and bolting away with a frightened cry of,

"L-lets get outta here!!!"

That was the wrong thing to do in Zeldris' presence and while he normally wouldn't care enough to use his Commandment on a bloody barn animal, the mettlesome creature had interrupted his revenge and then proceeded to try to spirit Meliodas away. So with a flash of light the pig stopped, frightening Straw as both demons began to leisurely walk towards them with a menacing aura, trying to wake his friend from whatever trance he'd fallen into, desperately calling his name as he shook hum with increasing terror the closer the demons got, some deep instinct told him not to make the same mistake and try to run away himself.

When he felt the demon's warmth at his neck he turned in a desperate sttampe to shield Hawk,

"Wh-wh-what did you do to him!?"

"I did very little to that filthy beast, it was all his own doing. Really, Meliodas, did you forget what the Commandments can do in your little paradise as well?"

"Th-the what?" Straw stammered out, backing up a step or two before tripping over something. Rubble from Hen1drickson's attack. Seconds later he was pinned with a sword to his neck as he desperately cried out, finally getting the words out, "P-p-please! I really d-dont remember! M-my memories are... I lost them t-ten years ago! I-I don't remember anything!"

Zeldris stopped short, confusion building in his breast. This isn't right, none of this is right. Meliodas is acting way too strangely, his confusion way to genuine. He released the Commandment on the pig, watching Estarossa kick it away as he struck like a viper, hand going around his brother's wrist as he pulled the demon closer, forcing him to look him in the eye. There was no spark of recognition there. He needed to be sure.

"Galand!" He called put to where the large demon had finished pushing back a group of humans, turning them into stone. Drole was handling the giantess and Gloxinia toyed with the fairy, leaving Melascula, Monspeet, and Derriere to a trio of human knights with particularly powerful signature, a human that reeked of immortality, and the goddess respectively.

The truth demon obeyed the call, coming to his leaders side. Zeldris tossed Straw to the dirt in front of him,

"Interrogate him, he claims to have lost his memories of us."

"You lost your memories?" Galand asked, and Straw cowered away from him. He could feel the anger radiating off of the giant in armor.

"I-I did! I don't remember anything from more than ten years ago!" Meliodas told him.

Galand was sceptic, but when the demon in front of him didn't turn to stone, he had to believe it, whether he wanted or not.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

unnatural

“...love actually.”

fleur x reader

gender neutral reader

synopsis: love is difficult, and the act of belonging: even more so. but still, fleur wants to unravel the complexities that exist deep inside of him, to understand them like he does with everything else in his world.

a/n: super heavily inspired by @marahuyos​’ headcanons here! i just went insane and had to cook some more food for myself wwwwwwww

Fleur didn’t know how to explain the feeling.

It was almost accurate to describe him as sick, lovesick. His heart would speed up dangerously, his lips would tingle as if he had been shocked by a stray electrical cord, fingers twitching unconsciously every time they were empty and without a task to do: his entire body missing a piece of the whole puzzle.

He pondered if this was how his admirers felt whenever he brushed them off nonchalantly. Did they feel the same wicked twist in his stomach when he glanced at them? Did their mouths go dry, and did their minds go blank too? Did they feel like waking up and sighing when the only figure next to him in his bed was a pillow rather than you? He doubted it: infatuation and love were two different sides of the same coin. What he felt for you was a beast of its own: emotions running rampant in every waking moment, demanding that his affections be quelled with a touch that only you had, even invading his dreaming moments when you would linger beyond his vision and tempt him with clear eyes and an unreal touch.

Everything you did drove him wild. Whenever you’d drop something, he’d rush to your side to pick it up. Flashing you his brightest smile and laughing sheepishly if you’d thank him, his heart lodged itself in his throat whenever you smiled back and brushed your hand delicately against his exposed forearm. You could dab the corner of your lips with a napkin during mealtime, and Fleur could spend the next ten years of his life staring at your mouth and wishing that he could be the one who would make the corner of your lips quirk up into a smile. Sometimes you would stretch your arms and yawn, and the exposed line of your stomach would make his mind go so haywire that he would lock himself in his workshop for the next few days to keep himself occupied so he wouldn’t turn into a madman because of you.

Yes. Indeed, a disease that no doctor could hope to cure with their fancy arrays of tools and cornucopias of medicines. His disease was love, a tightrope where he didn’t want to move forward unless you were ready to catch him in your arms, because he had already fallen off of the intimidating edge a long time ago.

He had never felt anything like this before. All Fleur was ever used to was the roaring silence of the incoherence of a crowd following him. His companions for most of his life were the rhythmic tinkering of metal and the gushed swoons of people who knew nothing about him. The closest to the heat of unabashed love he had felt was the heat of a steaming workshop after a grueling repair, but not even that could come close to the heat that pooled in his gut and flared up in his face when you’d rub your eyes sleepily and greet him cheerfully with a lulled “Good morning!” The void in his chest began to clamor and whir and endeavor to fill itself with everything that you hadn’t given to him, yet he still yearned for it in the same way the moon searched for the light of the sun futilely every night. If you knew, all you would do would be to laugh cutely and say “You’re so silly, Fleur!”

And gods, on that note—the way you said his name. The way every syllable rolled off your tongue so naturally, like ambrosia to his lips and an ethereal angelic chorus to his ears. Your voice could be the devil’s whisper from the dark, and Fleur would trade his soul over without batting an eyelash if it meant that you would continue to trill in your dulcet tones as if you were a sweet nightingale singing your tune just outside of his grasp. He wondered if you would say his name the same way if you loved him the way he loved you. Would you wake him up by cooing his name like a gentle dove, or would you giggle out his name breathlessly whenever he’d kiss you over and over and over? Hell, you could be mocking him, and he’d still fall at your feet and place his head in your lap longingly just to hear you tease him and watch him make a fool of himself for a scrap of your attention.

He wanted you. Badly, foolishly, truly.

Fleur bet that you’d feel natural in his arms. He’d slot you against his chest, rest your head against his shoulders, and wrap his toned arms around you. He’d squeeze tightly, absorbing every cadence of your heartbeat, trying to memorize the rhythm of your body against his in a slow waltz of limbs and inhales and sped-up pulses. If Fleur closed his eyes tightly enough and dreamed hard enough, his imagination conjured up faux feelings of your fingertips tracing the black patterns criss-crossing his chest and arms, your cheek brushing against his in a split second of pure euphoria, your bare legs entangled in every sharp ridge and edge of his tail.

He was used to being the one to fix things and to fix things without any bumps. But this time, he knew there was something wrong with him, a problem that he knew existed but couldn’t do anything to fix. Everything hurt; he was a machine gone haywire and desperately needing you to soothe all of his loose nuts and bolts and smooth over all the erratic flares of his heart, the anxious tremor of his eyes, the necessity for belonging and presence and love.

Maybe the key rested between his teeth, but ultimately, you would be the one who would have to have the courage to take the answer from his lips and unlock the solution yourself.

So Fleur kept it tightly close to him. Three words. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I love you.”

x

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. nine.

eight < current > ten

Dec. 24, 2017

You make yourself comfortable on the rooftop, debating if you should go ahead and text your brother. He would be almost as disappointed as you were; Satoru had taken to calling himself the captain of your ship with Yuta and Toge, even coming up with a nickname that incorporated shortened versions of all three names. You sigh, deciding it’s probably best to not text him. He’s likely already worried about leaving you in charge, no need to add a worry about something that isn’t deadly.

A sudden yell disrupts your thoughts and you jump into position, nocking an arrow and aiming towards the scream. You hitch your breath at the sight: Geto is striding into your school alone, leaving a trail of headless assistants behind him. One of the bodies is familiar and you recognize her as the assistant that gave you chocolate with a bright smile after a mission with unfortunate timing left you covered in curse blood and your own. She didn't flinch or offer pity - just a single chocolate kiss. Now she is covered in gore and blood, her previously pristine white shirt coated with her own brain matter.

You feel your resolve hardens. Geto is a curse-user, a human at his core, but he also is a monster. The arrow flies an accurate course but the man dodges, leaving it to embed itself into the wall instead of his torso. He turns to your rooftop, calling out, “Ah, (y/n)! And here I thought your brother would lock you in a tower.” Geto unleashes a grade-one curse that looks similar to a wolf and sends it after you. He is infuriatingly unbothered by your presence and continues his steady gait into the school grounds.

You start running across the rooftops, jumping over gaps and dodging the curse’s attempts to bite you. The rooftop tiles bite into your hands and knees. It faintly registers that a nail broke when you almost missed a jump, narrowly avoiding falling to the ground.

Satoru didn’t say how long to keep this secret, but you assume now is a good time to give Maki and Yuta a heads-up. You spot Maki stepping away from a classroom, so you run there, drawing the curse after you. On the roof next to where she stands, you plant your feet and turn, suddenly drawing your katana and slicing at the wolf. It draws back, avoiding your attack before lunging suddenly. Its claws sink into your leg. You cry out in pain, falling to your knees. When the curse lunges again, this time aiming for your throat, you fall on your back and thrust your blade into its stomach. You force the blade down its body with a grunt, disemboweling the creature. The teeth around your throat loosen, but the dead weight of the curse dropping on you prevents you from getting up immediately. Guts slide out and onto you and you suppress a gag. You feel a lot like Carrie on prom night.

When you finally stagger to your feet, you see Maki has engaged Geto in a fight that she’s obviously losing. You cry her name and rush to her side. She doesn’t get a chance to acknowledge you as Geto, in one fluid moment, breaks her weapon and sends her flying. She falls to the ground as a ragdoll, bleeding heavily from her side and head. You watch her body land, horrified, before you’re snapped back into the fight rudely.

Geto is now the closest to you he’s been since you were a child, frightened and unable to communicate with the people around you. He feels some long-forgotten sense of pity as he slides the blade of his knife further into your stomach. “W-wh-?” You look at the handle sticking out of your body curiously, blood starting to leak from the corner of your mouth. The pain hasn’t begun to register but your body understands that you are unable to fight. You faint, missing the entrance of Panda and Toge by a few precious seconds.

When Yuta comes out from the classroom, he isn’t sure what he’s expecting to find. He felt a few earthquakes and thought it best to find you and Maki to wait out any aftershocks together. Yuta was sure it was to be a little awkward after his rejection, but also wanted to be sure you were okay. He didn’t expect to find you covered in blood, the same cute gym clothing you were wearing that morning when he rejected you ruined. A quick glance around and he sees the rest of his classmates, his friends, in similar form. Inumaki is clinging to consciousness.

Geto, the one who grabbed Yuta months earlier, stands surrounded by the bodies, hardly winded. “I truly wanted you to live, Okkotsu, but this is for the future of jujutsu.” Yuta wonders how he can fight this man. How can he protect his friends, the only ones to give him a chance since Rika, when Geto already destroyed the strongest people he knew. He was so, so weak compared to each of them.

Inumaki desperately calls a slurred version of his name and says, “Run away.” The fact that the command does nothing, that Yuta feels nothing, breaks him from his spiral. He summons Rika in a rage.

“I am going to kill you!” He declares. Yuta doesn’t think he has ever felt such anger and despair, the feeling of watching Rika die now multiplied by four.

Geto simply says, “You are going to die.”

-

A sudden pull on your stomach wakes you harshly. “Shit!” Your eyes snap open, to see a sheepish Panda holding the knife that was previously in your stomach. You automatically go to apply pressure on the wound but your hands find Maki’s already there, dressing the wound. “What happened?”

“The fight’s over, but we need to find Yuta,” Maki explains. “He must have healed all of us, but you still had the blade in you. It needed to be removed before you get up. All of us are going to be fine, (y/n), you can rest now.” She helps you to your feet and you cringe looking at your ruined outfit. Maki catches your pout and smiles, glad some things never change.

Toge comes to your side to take Maki’s place as your crutch. You hug him tightly, unable to express in words how relieved you are. He hugs back, equally overwhelmed after seeing what seemed like your corpse. Toge helps you limp along as you all start tracking Yuta’s residuals. Panda clears his throat and asks, “When did this happen?”

“Only a few days ago. Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” you explain with an eye-roll.

“No, I totally did. Just curious who won the bet.”

“If we didn’t just fight for our lives, I would kill you.” You four continue to try to have a light conversation until you come upon Yuta’s unconscious body. Toge helps you sit on the ground and you move his head onto your lap, muttering about checking for a concussion. All of you needed medical attention but you were desperate to help any way you could now.

Yuta begins to blink his eyes open and sits up urgently. “Your wounds… Panda! Your arm!” He seems to be working himself into a frenzy. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder as Panda explains that everyone will be okay. Yuta urgently looks over you, trying to determine how much blood was yours, before he seems satisfied.

“Thank you for saving us,” You whisper. His eyes fill with tears and you wonder how scared he must have been. You maintain eye contact, hoping to communicate how much you admire him, before Rika’s jumbled voice makes the both of you jump. Yuta stands, leaving the circle your class formed around him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Rika,” he says, approaching her.

“What’s wrong?” Maki asks, a little fearful at how resigned Yuta looks.

Yuta hums a little before answering, “In exchange for her power, I promised to go with her.”

“What?” You screech and the suddenness of the yell pains your wound. Your classmates join a chorus of disagreement. Panda and Inumaki both grab fistfuls of his shirt to prevent him from walking any closer to Rika. Instead of her usual retaliation for someone restraining Yuta, her form just falls away to reveal a young girl. Four of you are confused but Yuta just mumbles, “Rika?”

A clapping distracts from the drama. You turn as best you can with a hole in your stomach to see your brother without any eye wear approaching your group. “Congrats. You broke the curse,” he continues to clap and stands next to you.

“Who’re you?” Yuta and Maki ask, causing you to snort before you groan at the pain.

Your brother pouts before replying, “Everyone’s favorite good-looking Gojo-sensei. Do you not see the sibling resemblance?” He gestures between your face and his, before carefully putting you on his back. He doesn’t even flinch at the grime covering you transferring onto him as well, relieved to see you awake and alert. You rest your chin on his shoulder and listen to him explain.

“I thought Yuta was interesting, so I looked into his lineage. Apparently, you’re a descendant of Michizane Sugawara. So, super-distant, but we’re relatives!” You groan and hide your face in Satoru’s neck; the teasing to come will be unbearable.

Your classmates look dumbfounded at the information while Yuta just goes, “Who?”

“One of Japan’s big three vengeful spirits.”

“A big-shot sorcerer.”

“Tuna.”

“The annoying side of the family,” you add.

Your brother takes back control of the conversation. “Yuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you, you cursed her. When the curser severs the bond tying servant to master and the cursed doesn’t desire punishment, the curse is broken. Though it seems you figured that out by yourself.” He gestures at the little girl and Yuta.

“Oh my god,” Yuta collapses in tears. “It’s all my fault…. Hurting so many people, Geto coming after me, it’s all my - all my -” He begins to hyperventilate. Inumaki takes a step to comfort him, but before he can, Rika approaches and hugs his trembling form.

“Thank you, Yuta. For giving me time and letting me be by your side. I’ve been happier these past six years than I ever was alive. Good-bye, be well. And don’t come over too soon, ‘kay?” She gives a bright smile, toothy and pure as she dissolves into bright ashes. Yuta stares at where she stood, long after all the ashes disappeared and everyone else walked away.

“See you,” He says to himself, before getting up to follow his friends to Doctor Ieiri.