#I should soon start answering asks again !! I have a few fics almost done =)

[another-clive-blog]

I'm not quite done with my Timebug stuff, so have these doodles of regular Clive in the meantime <3

[smoshyourheadin]

idea!!!

the cast/crew meeting spencer’s partner for the first time everyone thinks she isn’t real and all that

Disbeleif

pairing: spencer agnew x f!reader

a/n: anon i love this concept SO MUCH!!! also i tried a 3rd person instead of 2nd person perspective for this fic so there is a bunch of use of y/n,,lmk what u think!! also sorry for the slow posting recently i’m almost done w my exams so hopefully more content otw!! thank you all so much for ur support, it means the world 🫶🫶

requests are open <33

spencer had been working at smosh for a few years now, and he had always been the quiet one in the corner, headphones on, immersed in an edit or a video game. everyone knew he was brilliant, but they never saw much of him outside of work. that changed the day he mentioned his girlfriend, y/n.

“wait, spencer, you have a girlfriend?” shayne, his closest colleague, said with a mix of surprise and skepticism.

“don’t sound so surprised! but yeah, she’s amazing,” he replied, a shy smile on his face. “she’s actually cooking dinner tonight. you guys should come over!”

the disbelief was palpable. everyone in the office exchanged glances, clearly doubting spencer’s story. but out of curiosity and the lure of a home-cooked meal, they accepted the invitation.

that evening, spencer’s apartment was a flurry of activity. y/n, a stunning woman with bright eyes and a warm smile, was bustling around the kitchen. she wore a casual dress and an plaid apron, her hair tied back in a high ponytail.

as the doorbell rang, spencer went to answer it, his nerves fluttering. He opened the door to shayne, courtney, amanda, and a couple of others from work.

“welcome welcome, come in!” he said, stepping aside. his friends walked in, their eyes widening at the sight of y/n.

“hi there! I’m y/n. dinner will be ready soon,” she greeted them, her voice cheerful and inviting. her smile was genuine, putting everyone at ease immediately.

“OH MY GOD,” angela shouted “spencer can bring her home she’s so pretty!”

amanda smacked her shoulder as they walked in, giving y/n an apologetic look. all she could do was smile in flattery.

as they settled into the living room, everyone couldn’t help but admire the cozy space filled with gaming consoles, posters of classic video games, and shelves lined with sci-fi novels and collectibles, which trevor and alex were studying in great detail whilst they were waiting for their food.

“wow, he really does have a girlfriend,” courtney whispered to shayne, who nodded, equally astonished.

when dinner was finally served, y/n’s culinary skills shone. the table was laden with a variety of dishes, each one smelling more delicious than the last. they all sat down, and as they started eating, the conversation flowed easily.

“so, spencer tells me you’re all big fans of gaming,” y/n said, looking around the table with a twinkle in her eye. “what’s everyone’s favorite game?”

and just like that, the ice was broken. they spent the evening discussing their favorite games, from childhood ones to the latest releases. to everyone’s surprise, y/n not only kept up, but shared detailed insights and strategies, revealing her deep knowledge and passion for gaming.

“you’re really into this stuff too?” ian asked, clearly impressed.

y/n laughed. “oh, absolutely. spence and i met at a gaming convention. he saw me playing qbert and he came up to me, and we bonded over our love for retro games.”

as the night went on, it became clear that y/n wasn’t just beautiful and kind, but also just as nerdy and passionate about gaming as spencer. she fit perfectly into his world, and he into hers.

by the end of the evening, any doubts about spencer’s relationship were completely dispelled. as his coworkers left, each one thanked y/n for the amazing dinner and the great company.

“thanks for having us, spencer. and y/n, you’re an angel! we should do this again,” anthony said, clapping spencer on the back.

spencer smiled, his shyness melting away. “yeah, we should. thanks for coming, guys.”

as the door closed behind them, spencer turned to y/n, who was busy cleaning up.

“thank you for tonight,” he said softly. “you were amazing.”

y/n smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “anytime, lovebug. i love surprising people.”

and surprise them, she had. everyone at smosh wouldn’t stop talking about her. the slack messages were filled with praise for her cooking, and they realized that their shy, nerdy pal had found someone truly special.

[prentissluvr]

pirate!au headcanons — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, mild angst, fluff, enemies to lovers ish, kidnapping, weapons, violence, injury(?), fire, 1.1K words. requested !

prompt : royalty!sam x pirate-captain!reader

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

bonus!!! @mxltifxnd0m the requester, my sweet sweet wifey also made a gorgeous moodboard for this set of headcanons! feast your eyes <3

⟢ you’re not the type to take hostages; they’re a hassle for a multitude of reasons, plus you’re not too into making money by selling other people

⟢ but this one was just too easy, and promised too much money to turn down

⟢ not only that, but he looks quite good tied up to a beam in the spare storage room

⟢ “well, well. to what do i owe this pleasure, mr. samuel winchester? oh. i do apologize. duke samuel winchester.”

⟢ there’s a withering look in his eyes as he looks up at you, standing over him with your hands on your hips

⟢ “you tell me,” he retorts, indelicate and unphased by your sharp-edged sarcasm

⟢ you raise your eyebrows at him. “strong willed, are we? i thought you’d be all whiny and pathetic like your annoying royal counterparts. i suppose you might be entertaining to have around after all.”

⟢ quickly, he proves to be more than just that. within four hours of setting sail, he escapes his bondage and almost makes it away on an emergency boat

⟢ of course, you’ll have none of that; he knocks out half of your crew, but is no match against you

⟢ he fights well with a stolen sword, but you disarm him in seconds, then skillfully tackle and pin him to the ground

⟢ “where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?” you snarl into his ear, triumphant as you press a knee into his back to keep him down and tie his hands back

⟢ you brush off the help of your crew as you unceremoniously yank him to his feet and push him back into the storage room, muttering about the incompetence of the people around you

⟢ you retie him to the beam, sure that he’ll be unable to escape again after having done it yourself

⟢ even then, you keep a close eye on him; half to make up for the few blubbering fools on your crew you’re forced to keep for numbers, and half because he intrigues you

⟢ of course, you spend the most of your time keeping the ship orderly, robbing royal barges, and planning details of anything and everything in your private quarters

⟢ but you’ve started taking lunch in his dank storage room, finding pleasure in the way that he glares at you and makes scathing comments about how “you won’t get away with this”

⟢ you, of course, already have gotten away with it, but it’s still entertaining to hear him threaten you

⟢ certainly, you don’t express your entertainment; in fact, you hide it with a glower and near-silence

⟢ soon, sam changes tactics, and he asks questions about you, even flatters you a bit, trying to gain trust

⟢ you easily recognize the game he plays, but you play along. better to let him think that it’s working

⟢ you answer in short sentences, keeping at your mysterious and closed-off persona, but letting enough truth slip through that he can sense your honesty

⟢ it’s easy for you to tell how smart he is; the fact that he escaped so quickly that first day, the way he tries to play you, the exact questions that he asks and the calculated responses that he gives

⟢ that, and the way that he can tell his tactics aren’t actually working. better to let you think that he thinks they are

⟢ really, you both see right through each other with an odd sort of ease

⟢ you despise each other, you suppose, for the reason that you should

⟢ and you so strangely understand each other, the way that the both of you talk with such calculation and caution and intelligence

⟢ the words that you choose to use and the little truths that you let slip through tell you that you’re alike, that you’ve suffered and found refuge in some of the same sorts of things

⟢ what’s stranger is that sam feels this way even when you barely speak. you just sit there in silence most days, and yet, he reads you so easily

⟢ he wonders if you can read him just the same; thinks you can based on your gaze and the pointed, short questions that you ask

⟢ strangest is the way he wishes that you’d speak more often, maybe just to prove that not everything out of your mouth has to be scathing and cold

⟢ when the ship catches fire during a battle, sam discovers that while your words may be rough and mean, your actions are not always

⟢ he’s already coughing from the smoke seeping in from the crack under the door when you burst in, determined and silent

⟢ the flames spread and the crew rushes about, doing their best to douse the flames, but you’re untying his bonds and grabbing the collar of his shirt to push him out

⟢ you hand him a bucket, grab your own, and don’t say a word unless to shout orders as you work tirelessly with your crew to save the ship

⟢ sam does not make a run for it when he so easily could. sam helps

⟢ the damage was contained, and the ship can make it to the next port for repairs without problem, but sam’s room is unusable

⟢ the only empty space able to fit him is either your bedroom or your office, and either sound like torture to you

⟢ you tie him up in your small office, now forced to be extra careful to hide and store your documents and keep them out of sight when you use them

⟢ but you don’t tie him up quite as tight as before, and you take him on walks around the deck

⟢ you give him a cot and tie up his leg. he could get out of it if he wanted, with his skill, but he doesn't

⟢ then you untie his leg and let him eat at your desk across from you, and then you discuss plans and books and politics with him, and then you have him wrapped around your finger

⟢ you still pretend to hate each other, but he’s smart and resourceful and helps you with your plans

⟢ and you’re secretly more compassionate than most royalty he’s ever met, and you treat him fairly and respectfully once you realize he deserves it

⟢ he likes it on your ship and you like having him there, and one day when you threaten to tie him back up, he gives you a withering look like the first time he laid eyes on you

⟢ it takes less than a few moments for your lips to be on his and your hands tangled in his hair

⟢ his rough hands grip your waist and without question, he’s your second in command, your right hand man

[ghostinavenue]

FEARLESS

Summary: You sneak out of your house to go to a party and meet up with Tommy.

Pairings: TommyLee x Fem!Reader

In my head Tommy is the sweetest rockstar on earth, hence this fic. !!

——————————————————————————————

It was a stormy friday night. You were in your room sitting by the window, watching how lightings illuminated the sky before crashing down into a thunder. The tight golden dress you had found in your wardrobe a few minutes ago was still on you while you waited for the storm to cease in order to go out, but that was not happening any time soon.

You had met this guy Tommy a few days ago. He had seen you walking out of college and approached you. “There’s a party at my friend’s house on friday, Vince, you should come over,” He had said, handing you a piece of paper with an address written on it. “Also, my band’s playing, Mötley Crüe, we’re killing it.” He winked at you before walking away with that gorgeous silly smile on his face.

You wanted to go to this party so bad, but your parents would not let you go out if it was raining like that, so you decided to sneak out. Your bedroom was on a second floor so you opened the window and carefully threw some pillows on the ground before jumping out, which made the fall a lot softer. Rain was instantly pouring down on you, and according to the paper Tommy had given you, his friend’s house was a few blocks away, so you decided to run.

After a few minutes of consistently running and stopping to catch your breath every once in a while, you made it to the house. You could hear loud music coming from inside so you peeped through the window. There they were, the famous “Mötley Crüe”. Tommy was playing the drums, his messy black hair was all over his face, and he was wearing a bit of makeup, which made you giggle. You didn’t know the other guys, but you surely did spot the older man playing the guitar, which made you frown, imagining it was maybe this guy Vince’s relative.

Suddenly the music stopped, they were done playing, and Tommy looked up in your direction, staring directly at you. He squinted his eyes as to trying to figure out who you were. You chuckled and waved at him, and this seemed to be enough for him to recognize you because he jumped up from his drum set and made his way to you.

“Y/N!” He closed the door behind him, now you were both standing there in the rain. “Have you seen me play?” He asked, that same cute silly smile forming up on his face. You were about to answer when the music started playing again, this time without the drums. Tommy didn’t seem to care about that, because he stayed with you.

You leaned closer to his ear, tiptoeing because he was much more taller. “You’re great,” You said quite loudly in his ear, pulling back afterwards to give him a smile. Now he moved closer to your ear and said, “You look gorgeous, may I have this dance?”. As he offered his hand to you, you couldn’t help but laugh as he was clearly a little drunk, but you took his hand and you walked him to the driveway.

At this point, you were both soaking wet, your dress was almost glued to your body, and Tommy’s leather pants were glistening under the raindrops, but you didn’t care, because both of you started to goofily dance to the rhythm of the music that came from inside the house. You jumped around and laughed, and the drummer did just the same, mimicking you, which made it all even funnier. You were having a great time.

The rain was starting to stop, and you were running out of breath, so you grabbed the black haired man’s arm and pulled him down to the ground with you, lying down there, facing up to the sky. Neither of you were talking, but Tommy’s hand quietly reached yours, quickly interlocking fingers.

“Is this your first time dancing in the rain with a girl you have just met?” You asked turning your head to the side, looking directly at him. He smiled before replying, “Yeah, I would probably do it again, only with you.” You bit your lip at his response, feeling a bundle of butterflies suddenly flying in your stomach; and without thinking it any further, you placed your hands on Tommy’s cheeks and kissed him, there, on the floor.

The drummer stayed still for a moment before placing one of his hands on your waist and gently pushing himself above you, deepening the kiss. His lips were soft and his tongue explored your mouth tenderly, he knew what he was doing and you were enjoying it. Black strands of hair were tickling your face so you had to pull away from him a few times, giggling, which made him chuckle with you before giving quick pecks to your face and neck.

“I have to go back inside, Nikki’s gonna kill me” He interrupted, standing up and offering you his hand to help you get up as well. “Will you stay and see me play?”. You wanted to stay with him, now and probably for the rest of your life, but you knew you had to be back home. It was getting too late.

“I have to leave now,” You said, your hands resting on his shoulders, “But I promise I will come and see you playing the next time your band is performing”. Tommy seemed disappointed, but he agreed and laid a gentle kiss on your forehead before walking back inside the house, and you could hear all the boys calling him out for disappearing; but you felt as if you had just lived the start to your own fairytale.

[somethingthing]

Bitter Old Man

Joel Miller x reader

Warnings: a few curse words and angst (arguing), fluff towards the end

Word count: 1057

A/n: That’s it, I’m officially writing Joel fics, I absolutely love the show and can’t wait for more episodes. That’s right, I CAN’T wait, so I’m watching the gameplays, a certain someone just got their head smashed in :’)

Joel had been hesitant to smuggle Ellie out, so had you, but if you didn't take her, someone else would. 

You were held up in one of the decaying buildings, it looked like an old shop. A few items were scattered on the floor, but other than that it was empty and secure. Joel had insisted on triple checking.

“At lest she falls asleep fast” you looked down at the girl sleeping on the floor beside you, using her backpack as a pillow.

“It´s not too late to turn back” Joels gaze was focused on her “We turn back now, dump her off and let someone else take her to where she needs to be” he switched his gaze to you.

“No we can´t” you understood why he wanted to, his brother came first and with Ellie that mission became compromised. He gave you a questioning look, not understanding why not “Joel, she´s a fourteen year old girl being handed form person to person, besides, if she truly can help end this as she says, I´m not sure I trust anyone else with her”

“She is still not our problem, we should be finding Tommy and then be done with it” he sounded almost angry, getting out a stressed whisper “A cure? Bullshit, she made that up just to stay alive a while longer” 

You looked at him disbelief “What is your problem?” you quickly looked to Ellie to see that she was still sleeping “Are you really so bitter that you´ve lost all hope and is gonna blame a little girl for your problems?”

Letting out a deep sigh and dragging his hand over his face, he got up from the floor across from you “I ain´t blaming her, I´m saying that I have more important things to do with my time than looking after a helpless brat!” the frustration was clear in his voice even if he tried to keep it down.

You got up as well, careful not to wake Ellie. You moved away from her, still keeping her in sight but enough distance to not wake her with your voices “Okey let me ask you this, if we don´t help her, who will?” he opened his mouth to answer but you stopped him “And don´t give me that ´not my problem´ crap”

He closed it again for a second, but opened it again “Three weeks” he stepped closer and lowered his voice “You really believe that she's been bitten for three fucking weeks? She´s a ticking bomb!” he wasn't wrong, no matter how long she had fought off the infection, you had no idea how long her body would be able to keep it up.

“Then lets get her to The Capitol building as fast as we can” you were sick of his arguing, turning around and starting the move back to Ellie.

“What then? For all we know Marlene could be dead and we´ll never get our payment” he reached out and caught your arm, forcing you to stay “I get that she's gotten your hopes up about a cure, but come on, you´re not that stupid”

You turned you head back to him “If you wanna be a bitter old man, then fine, be that, but leave me the fuck out of it!” now it was your turn to sound angry “And besides, I´m not leaving her out in this world all alone, would you ever have left Sarah?” the moment her name left you lips you wanted to take it back.

He yanked your arm which he still had a hold of “Watch it” his voice was dangerously low and his face dangerously close to yours “She´s off limits, got it?” it wasn't a question, more of a warning about a line he dared you to cross.

You stayed quiet for a moment, cursing yourself for bringing her up “Joel, I´m sorry, that wasn't fair, I didn´t...”

“Mean it? Yes you did” he let go of your arm “Get some rest, we move out in a few hours” and with that the conversation was over.

You didn't get any rest, but twisted and turned instead. As soon as you all were packed up again, you headed out. Ellie must have noticed something was off, after a few attempts to lighten the mood she kept quiet. 

You made a quick stop, searching one of the old buildings for supplies “Listen, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have brought her up” you watched how Joel searched through a cabinet.

“Where´s Ellie?” he didn´t turn around, but kept looking through the drawers.

“She´s in the other room” you moved closer “Joel could you just please look at me?” reaching out you put your hand on his shoulder. He stood up straight, looking you in the eyes.

Without saying anything you hugged him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing gently. At first he didn´t move, but then you felt him return it, slowly “I know you´re sorry, I just...” he paused, thinking of his next words “I just haven´t heard someone say her name in awhile”

You drew away enough to look at him “I know” you didn´t know what else to say, letting you gaze study his face. The memory from the night before, of his face being this close to yours fluttered in your mind. Without thinking you reached out and let your lips meet his, it was fast and thoughtless.

You made yourself ready to apologize, drawing away from him, but he stopped you with a hand on your waist. He drew you in, deepening the kiss you had started “Don’t you dare apologize” he breathed out.

Before you could respond, Ellie stepped in to the room “I knew it! I knew something was going on with you two!” she looked at you proudly as you drew away from Joel, then she gave you a suspicious look “Wait did the two of you… EW I knew I heard voices last night, gross!” She spited out making a disgusted face.

“Okey kid, that´s enough” Joel shook his head and gave her a tired look, but you could see the twitch at the corner of his mouth “Let´s get a move on, we ain´t got all day”

“I can’t believe it” she stated and turned around, exiting the room again “I was in the same room, yuck” you heard her mumble to herself.

You looked at each other, laughing quietly to yourself. Nothing more had to be said, at least she hadn’t heard your argument and that was the important part. That, and what had just happened between you, if you we’re going on this suicide mission you would at least do it together.

———————————

Thank you for reading <33 I’m gonna go and cry in a corner about Joel now

[revnah1406]

MASON'S LEGACY

Chapter 7: The beginning of something new

<- previous chapter

Words: 10.131

(this chapter was inspired by a videogame. Can you guess which one it is? Hehehe. Also there are small hints form another famous black ops fic from a friend and mutual of mine 🤭)

"At least we know where to start." Weaver mentioned crossing his arms. His hip was resting on the table, his old bones complaining from having been on his feet for so long. Technology had advanced enough to bring him back to life but not to take away his back pain. Ironic. 

Hudson put his sunglasses on the table. He sighed exhausted. 

"We can't take chances and keep moving forward. At least not here." Hudson put both fists on the table. "The last thing we need is for Langley to happen a second time." 

"What do you suggest?" 

"A safehouse. Somewhere remote in the country. Far away from all this chaos." 

"Northward?" 

"It is an option." 

"So what happened in Berlin is happening again?" 

"Same story in a different era." 

Suddenly the office door burst open. Adler stormed in. Hudson straightened his back and took a breath. Here it comes… 

"Where is she?" Adler demanded, approaching the table. Completely ignoring Weaver. 

"What are you talking about?" Hudson pretended not to know anything, ignoring him as he sorted the papers on his desk. 

"Don't be an idiot, Hudson. Where's Abigail?" Adler slammed his hand on the papers, forcing Hudson to stop his actions. "I left you alone with her for two days and she already ran away from you again?" 

Hudson took his time answering. He looked up to look Adler in the eyes. 

"She didn't escape. I let her go. I ordered her to leave the facilities as soon as possible" 

Adler almost laughed. He rested both hands on his hips and paced around the office. 

Sims appeared at the door.

"Organize a search party." Adler ordered. 

Sims nodded but Hudson stopped him. 

"The girl is no longer in Chicago." 

"Where is she then? Huh?" 

"I hope far enough." Hudson answered. 

"Are you aware of what you have caused?" Adler pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Are you aware of what you would have done if you had tied that girl to that chair? If you had filled her arms with needles and IVs?" 

"That girl is hiding valuable information."

"She's a Mason, Adler" Hudson didn't hesitate to approach Adler. Imposing his point of view.

"Everything has its price. Stopping Perseus has its price." Adler wasn’t intimidated by the other man. 

Hudson could see the obsession growing behind those sunglasses. That was no longer just for work, or for a need to do justice or save the world. This had become personal for Adler. Why? Maybe because he couldn't kill Perseus with his bare hands. And now he had been given a second chance to try again. Adler wasn't going to waste it. 

"And everything has its limit, Russ." Hudson answered very coldly. 

Adler spent a few long seconds, looking Hudson in the eyes. 

"Organize the Search party." He ordered Sims again without taking his eyes off Hudson. "Find her." 

And without saying another word Adler left for the office, leaving Weaver and Hudson alone again. 

He sighed, rubbing his temples. There was a long silence. 

"Should we contact Woods?" Weaver asked. 

"It's not possible. He doesn't carry any type of radio. It was better this way, we minimized the risks." 

"Then let's pray that they don't find them." 

Hudson sighed again. 

“Call Mason.” 

____________

"Mom." Abby looked away from the window, watching the rain fall heavily outside the hospital. 

"Mmh? Yes honey?" Alice closed her eyes, she was tired, the chemotherapy robbed her of all her energy. She looked like she was about to fall asleep in that chair. But her daughter woke her up. 

"What is a legacy?" Abby asked curiously. 

"Where did you hear that?" Alice opened her tired eyes. 

"On the news, a politician was talking about our country's legacy prevailing." Abby pointed to the small television on the wall. 

"Well... A legacy is what you leave in this world after you die." Alice explained, settling down on the couch. 

"Our corpse?" The twelve year old girl raised an eyebrow. 

"No, no. It's something more metaphorical." 

"Like what?" 

"Mmmh... for example, you are dad's and my legacy. You are what we leave in this world when we die. Dad is grandpa's legacy, and I am my parents' legacy." 

"I see…" 

"A legacy can be more complex, like an idea, a philosophy, a way of thinking. It can also be something very important that you have done that has affected other people." 

Abby walked over to her mother and sat next to her, resting her head on Alice's shoulder. 

"Will I leave a legacy someday too?" 

Alice smiled with her eyes closed and stroked her daughter's hair. 

"We all leave a legacy, honey."

Abby opened her eyes slightly. She took a deep breath and frowned. She blinked a few times trying to get used to the low light. The sun had not yet risen. It smelled like cigarette smoke, she was still using Woods' jacket as a blanket. It was cold. She stretched her arms and legs, trying to relax her stiff muscles. She lifted her cheek from the cold car window. She looked around. How long had he been driving?

Woods took his eyes off the road for a moment and glanced at Abby. 

"Look who's awake." Frank greeted. "Did you sleep well Abs?" He asked, looking back ahead. 

"My back hurts." Abby answered in a sleepy, hoarse voice. 

She sat up better on the seat. Feeling her bones creak. She left Woods' jacket on her lap, covering her legs. The poor girl was still trying to wake up. Her eyes were half-closed, her brow furrowed, and her hair was completely disheveled. Woods chuckled at Abby's expression.

"What are you laughing at, old man?" Abby groaned as she rubbed her eyes. 

"With the sleepy face you have, I'm sure you reached fucking Nirvana while you were taking that nap." Frank joked. 

"Well maybe I'll go back to that Nirvana again." Abby settled in better, sinking into the padded seat of the truck. Closing her eyes again. She covered herself with Woods' jacket again. The smell reminded her of home. 

"Come on, don't leave me alone again. It's boring to drive in silence for hours." Woods complained. 

He waited for a response but when he looked at Abby again he realized that she had already closed her eyes again. 

"Hey." Woods took one hand off the wheel to pat Abby's shoulder. 

She simply shook her shoulder in protest. 

"Are you listening to me brat?" Woods started pulling on Abby's ear. 

Abby growled. 

"Leave me alone." She complained, shaking her head. 

Woods laughed, satisfied with his work. 

"Give me some conversation, c’mon. This looks like a fucking funeral." 

Abby thought for a moment, she remembered the dream she had. She looked at Woods, taking in his profile. 

"What has been your legacy?" She asked. 

The older man frowned in confusion. 

"My legacy? What's with that question?" 

"I don't know. It just came to mind." 

"Mmmh..." Woods thought for a moment "I haven't had children, I haven't gotten married either. I guess my legacy is what I've done." He paused. "Although… it could be that my legacy was David. And you, of course." He looked at Abby for a few seconds. 

The young woman seemed satisfied with his answer. 

"I don't know what I will leave as a legacy." Abby asked, looking at the road. 

"You're too young to worry about that shit Abs." Woods replied, trying to take away Abby's worry. 

"I guess you're right." 

There was silence. It was comfortable.

"Where are we?" Abby asked looking at the landscape where they were. 

"On the way to Fort Wayne. Maybe an hour left. We've had to take several detours." 

It was true that from Chicago to Fort Wayne it was only a few hours of travel, but due to the war and the years the roads had deteriorated and they had to constantly take detours, looking for new safer and more hidden routes. If you travel on the main roads or highways you are cannon fodder for looters. So Woods did not hesitate to take precautions. 

A Pat Benatar song was playing on the radio. For a moment Abby wondered how it was possible if radio stations no longer existed, let alone music stations. But her question was answered when she saw an old cassette case resting on the glove compartment. 

The rattle and sway of the vehicle due to the deteriorated road rocked Abby gently. She never felt so relaxed since she arrived in Washington with David, hells, she didn't even remember the last time she could let her guard down like that. Maybe it was the effect that Woods had, that long-awaited familiarity, that feeling that transported her home. Abby leaned her head back against the window, blinking slower and slower until finally her eyes closed again. 

Woods glanced at the young woman when he noticed that the silence lasted too long. One of his corners tugged up, Abby's completely relaxed face was a little hard to see. The last time he saw her like this, Abby was unconscious, in serious condition, and tied to the hospital stretcher. It was nice to see her being able to rest properly. So he didn't bother her anymore, he looked back at the road and with one hand he placed his jacket on the young woman's lap and slightly lowered the volume of the music. 

That time Abby didn't dream, she simply let herself be embraced by Morpheus's arms. Abby didn't know how much sleep she got that time either. It was one of those naps that felt like they had knocked you out and couldn't wake you up even if they screamed right next to your ear. But the sound of the truck door closing jolted her awake. Abby raised her head, completely disoriented. She looked around, Woods was gone. She yawned and wiped away the trail of dried saliva that descended from one of her corners. 

She heard someone open the trunk while muttering curses, taking out a couple of things and closing it again. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the truck. The sun was already high in the sky, there were no clouds, the light shone on the snow and made Abby's eyes hurt, forcing her pupils to shrink as quickly as possible. 

Woods appeared to be packing a few things in his backpack, supplies, ammunition, and a gasoline canister. 

“Did we run out of gas?” Abby asked, closing the vehicle door. 

“Hudson gave me the fucking truck with the tank half empty.” Woods replied grumpily. “Luckily the city is a couple of miles from here. We can go on foot. Find gas and return. It will take us a day at most, maybe half a day if we are lucky.” 

Abby handed her his jacket when she saw him start to look for something. Woods grabbed it and put it on. 

“Grab your things, kid. We’re leaving." Woods ordered, slinging his backpack over his shoulders and holding the rifle in one hand. 

Abby obeyed, and grabbed her backpack and the rest of her things, leaving nothing valuable in the car. Someone could steal from them in their absence. 

They began to walk along the half-ruined road, covered in snow and ice, she couldn't even see the asphalt. They preferred to take the risk of being ambushed in the middle of the road than to walk along a secondary path. The fluffy snow and frozen grass could make them go too slow. It was still quite early in the morning, Abby was hoping that the raiders in that area weren't early risers. 

They were silent, listening carefully for any suspicious noises around them. Luckily there was only the singing of birds, the leaves of the trees swaying lazily and the wind raising powdered snow that had not yet frozen and stuck to the ground. The sun warmed their skin and the snow kept their boots cold and wet. A strange feeling. 

Woods walked a couple of steps behind her, checking the rear from time to time. He also kept an eye on Abby, she seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the snow. Woods noticed the hunting sniper hanging from her shoulder. Guns and Abby… it was a combination he had a hard time imagining. Well, Abby had changed a lot in those last few years. She had changed but she was still the same. Woods didn't know how to put it. It didn't matter how much Abby grew, how much she cut her hair, or how much she changed her clothing style. Beneath those green eyes he continued to see the little Mason who begged him to read books about astronauts and trips to the moon. 

“Do you know how to use that rifle?” Woods asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Mhm.” Abby made a sound of affirmation without even turning to him. 

"Who taught you?" 

"Dad." She responded simply. 

Woods snorted and nodded. Obviously it had been Dave. 

There was silence. 

“And you're good with that?” He asked again. Five years had passed that had felt like an eternity. Woods had to catch up with her. 

Abby finally turned to Woods. The sun illuminated those green eyes with a light so warm that they almost seemed to have turned gold. She smiled sideways. 

“You'd be surprised, old man.” 

Woods rolled his eyes but didn't hide his smile. Knowing what Abby managed to do to Adler, that response didn't surprise him. Abby paused for a moment so Woods could catch up with her so they could walk side by side. 

“How things have changed, huh?” Frank sighed, looking up, towards where some little birds had taken flight from the top of a tree. It was amazing how despite how broken the world was, things always found their way again. Abby nodded. “Do you miss the good ol' days?” 

Abby nodded again. 

“Things seemed simpler.” She answered nostalgically. 

“They looked like it, but that doesn't mean they were.” Woods corrected her. 

There was another silence. 

“And tell me…” Woods looked at her, earning a curious look from the younger girl. “How did that story end with that girl?” 

"What a Girl?" Abby wrinkled her face not understanding what he was talking about. 

"You already know. That girl from your school. What was her name…Martha?” 

“¿Mary?”

"Yeah."

“Oh god, Frank…no…” Abby chuckled as she shook her head. 

"Huh? How bad was it? I remember you liked her a lot.” 

“She… just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a girl. Nothing else." Abby gave a sad smile, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrows. “I guess I was the one who misinterpreted the signs.” 

“Abs… you were thirteen, you were too young to understand those things.” He put his arm over the shorter girl's shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Besides, first loves don't always turn out well.” 

“If you talk so much as if you were the most experienced person in the world, then tell me about your love life.” Abby gave a little smile and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“My life isn't full of romance Abs.” Woods rolled his eyes. 

“And what about that girl? The one in that photo?” Abby remembered when five years ago she found an old photo in Woods' room. A woman talking casually to Mason, as if they didn't realize their photo was being taken. 

“She is… Long story…” Frank sighed as he remembered those times. 

“Well, judging how long it will take us to get to Washington, I think we have plenty of time.” She shrugged. 

“I'm not going to tell you the whole story like it's a fucking gossip session.” He defended himself. It's not that he wanted her to know that part of his story, like many others. 

“Pfff Boring... At least tell me how it started. Where did you take her on the first date?”

Woods thought for a moment whether or not to answer that question. He grumbled a little but eventually gave in. 

“Burger Town.”

“To fucking Burger Town?! Are you serious Woods?!” 

"What? It's good, and cheap. You say that as if you didn't enjoy it every time I took you there when you were little.”

“But you can't take her there on the first date! Oh my goodness Woods…” Abby shook her head. 

“She was a woman who knew how to appreciate the simple things in life.” Woods answered. 

“I feel sorry for her. If putting up with you as a grandfather is already torture, imagine having you as a lover, pff…” Abby pretended to be tired. 

Woods opened his mouth in surprise, clearly not expecting Abby to make fun of him at that moment. 

“You little piece of shit.” Woods put his arm around Abby's neck in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles hard over her head. 

“Hahahaha! Hey!" Abby tried to get out of Woods' grip. 

“You think it's funny to laugh at me, huh?” Woods was infected with the youngest's laughter. 

“I only speak the truth!” Abby continued laughing. "Let go! Hahaha!” 

They continued talking and catching up as they walked. In the end they arrived in the city earlier than expected. The skyline of Fort Wayne was what you would expect from any city. Demolished, a set of ruins. The few skyscrapers that had fallen like defeated giants. The shorter buildings threatened to fall as well. Debris everywhere, huge holes, streets sunken into the ground, leaving huge holes and uncovered sewers. It wasn't a very big city, but Abby had heard rumors that it was one of the hardest hit during the war. Now she had been able to verify it. 

“What a sight…” Woods murmured, observing how gloomy everything looked. 

“Is this the first time you've seen a city like this?” Abby raised an eyebrow. 

“No, but never as destroyed as this one.” Woods replied, shaking his head. 

“Fort Wayne was one of the first victims of the Cordis Die drone attacks. There were rumors that this was hell during the first year, and not precisely because of the drones.” Abby began to explain as they both walked deeper into the ghost town. 

"How was it? The beginning of Cordis Die, the war…” Woods asked. 

“Haven't they told you what happened?” Abby turned around with a face of confusion. 

“I know the official version. But I want to know yours.” 

Abby was silent for a few seconds. It was difficult for her to remember those years. 

“When… Menéndez committed suicide after…” Abby pointed at Woods, implying that she was referring to the incident at The Vault. She didn't even dare mention it out loud, her stomach turned just thinking about it. Furthermore, it was a delicate topic that she had not yet discussed with him. 

Frank nodded understanding what she was talking about. 

“After Menéndez's death, we thought everything was over. Cordis Die had been stopped. The happy ending we were all waiting for.” Abby began to narrate. “A month later, a group of anonymous terrorists called the new Perseus appeared. They hacked all public television channels and social networks. They assured that they would make a better world for everyone, far from corrupt governments, famine and wars.” 

They were both walking through the alleys, searching every gas tank of every car they found. All empty. Woods listened to Abby as he watched the windows of buildings and possible ambush sites. 

“At first no one paid attention, they took it as a joke. But then they continued sending messages saying that the revolution had already begun in Eastern Europe and South Asia, sending images of revolts and violent demonstrations. Perseus was trying to convince people to rise up against governments, to demand answers. Many believed the lie, and the same thing happened. Attacks against the government, demonstrations, barricades, homemade explosives, robberies, murders in the middle of the street... The country became an anarchic place. And from what we saw on the news, the same thing was happening in the big cities of the rest of the countries.” Abby sighed and rubbed her face. It was difficult for her to remember those years, it was as if her brain was determined to forget. 

Woods remained silent. Abby's expression was gradually darkening. He was beginning to regret asking.  

“That freedom, revolution and knowing the truth were children’s dreams. A simple strategy to keep us messy, separated, like headless chickens. Perseus took advantage of the chaos to hack all the military systems of international powers. The United States, China, Russia... I don't know how they did it. Somebody made a deal with the fucking devil or something like that. Because the next thing we knew was hell on earth. All the military drones of the army were thundered against us, both by land, sea and air.” Abby sat on the hood of a burned-out car. Her hands had begun to shake. “The military drones in the streets of our neighborhood, I still remember when they entered our home. Dad and I miraculously came out alive. They shot anyone in sight. It was... like a swarm of drones that destroyed everything. There were bombings that destroyed the city. We had to take refuge in the subway. The number of deaths that occurred each day was enormous. The government tried to stop the drones with tanks, fighter planes... but it was useless, they didn't last even six months, then they disappeared as if they had never been there. Abandon us to our fate.” Abby gave a bitter laugh. “I guess you were right when you said that technologies were going to destroy us one day.”

“Abs…” Woods called after her. 

The young woman made a gesture with her hand. 

“The first year was the hardest of all. I guess I wasn't used to so much chaos and death. The few of us who survived were trapped in the city all that year, traveling through the subway tunnels so as not to be seen. Going to the surface only to look for supplies, clothing, weapons, medical supplies... We created a small underground refugee camp. We were busy healing the wounded, feeding the children, and creating a small oasis in that horrible place. By then I was already fifteen years old, I was no longer considered a girl. “I went out to the streets on expeditions with Dad, to look for food or survivors.” 

Abby frowned and thought for a few seconds. 

“I still don't know if it was my fault or not…” She paused, trying to find the right words. “One day dad had to stay in the refugee camp because of a problem with one of the hydroelectric turbines. So I had to go on an expedition alone.” Abby swallowed, trying to lighten the weight she felt in her throat. Lost in her thoughts and memories, trying to relive that event, looking for some detail that had been overlooked. “Maybe… I left the subway gate open or some emergency exit… I don't know…” She shook her head. 

Woods waited patiently in silence. 

"I was happy. I had found several boxes of insulin syringes and antibiotics at a pharmacy on the other side of town. When I returned... Everything smelled of gunpowder, gasoline and blood. There were corpses everywhere. Women, the elderly, children... There were also destroyed military drones. Luckily I found dad and a few survivors.” Abby sighed as she swung her feet that dangled over the side of the car where she was sitting. “Some blamed me for it. Dad said it wasn't true, the drones had appeared through the western tunnel and I had left through the eastern one. Whatever the story was, they were mad at me, and banished me from the refugee camp. Obviously dad came with me. We spent two years wandering the country, traveling with other nomads. It was better to go in a group than alone. Then we found a little hunting cabin in the woods and Dad and I stayed there for six months. I must admit that I liked it, it was a quiet place. But one day we heard some robbers in the area and we had to leave. It was a matter of time before they found us. We heard rumors that things were calmer in Alaska, that people had begun to organize to build small towns and return to normal, and that there was a smuggler pilot in Washington DC who could take us to Fairbanks.” Abby looked up at the sky. “We arrived in Washington, we found the Guerrillas called The Wolves, we discovered that it was a cover for the government that was still working in the shadows, the Hyenas attacked us, President Bosworth gave me the pendrive, they kidnapped us both, and well… You already know the rest of the story.” Abby looked at Woods and smiled. A smile that didn't reach her eyes. 

Woods was silent for several seconds, taking in everything Abby had said. He could see the weight of those hard years in her eyes. In a way she reminded him of him when he was young, when he spent his youth on the streets of Philadelphia. 

“Some busy years, kid.” Woods ruffled Abby's hair. “We will find your father, don't worry.” 

“We will have to hurry. I don't know how long he will stay in Washington. Or is he even still alive.” 

“Well we better find some gas soon.” Frank nodded for Abby to follow him. “Come on Abs.”

Abby nodded and followed him. 

They walked through the streets of Fort Wayne, watching each other's backs with every step they took. The place seemed completely deserted, there wasn’t a single soul in the place, nor signs that people had passed through there. Fort Wayne was so dilapidated that perhaps people thought it impossible to repopulate. 

They arrived at an abandoned square, with a small playground buried by snow and fallen trees. Woods put his arm on Abby's chest to stop her and pointed to some large boxes next to some trucks in front of a church. Before Abby could look closely, he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to the corner of a building so they wouldn't be so exposed. 

"Over there." 

Abby peeked around the corner and looked into the distance. She analyzed the place for a few seconds. 

“There seems to be no people.” 

“Oh yeah?” Woods wasn’t convinced. The signs of nearby human activity made him tense, you never know who you might encounter.

“Look at the snow accumulated on the roof of the trucks, they haven't been moved in days. There are also no tire marks in the snow, nor footprints. The windows of the vehicles are frozen, no one has used these vehicles for at least weeks.” Abby deduced. She craned her neck a little to see a little better. "Look. Over there." 

Abby pointed to some gas cans next to some cargo boxes. 

“Looks like it's our lucky day.” Woods said when he saw them. 

"What are you saying? Shall we risk it?” Abby asked, looking at him. 

Frank thought about it for a moment. He didn't like the idea of ​​interacting with people. And much less risk being ambushed. But they couldn't waste much time, they had to hurry and get gas soon. And if Abby was right and those canisters were full, they would have enough for quite a few more miles. So he sighed and nodded. 

“Okay. Let's go, grab the gas and leave. But you stay behind me, understand? come on." 

Abby nodded. 

Woods took the rifle from his shoulder and began walking in the direction of that half-demolished church. He didn’t hesitate to monitor possible places where there could be people hiding, he didn’t like that place, he had a bad feeling. 

Meanwhile, Abby kept an eye on the rear and the windows of the tallest nearby buildings. 

When they reached the collection of trucks and cargo boxes, Abby tentatively kicked one of the gas canisters, which fell onto the snow without any effort. 

“Fucking empty…” Woods growled in annoyance after checking that the others were also empty as well.

 Abby looked around trying to find something else. “Maybe there's something in the trucks' fuel tanks.” Suddenly she realized something. “Hey, old man.” Abby called Woods and pointed her chin at the church door.

“Mmh?” Woods looked up at where Abby pointed. 

Right next to the door there was a sign that said: “DANGER: flammable material.” Woods signaled for Abby to stay where she was and he approached the door. He stuck right against the wall next to the door, waited a few seconds in silence trying to hear something, but there was only silence and wind. With the rifle raised he slowly opened the door and looked inside to investigate. He made sure the place was empty and then with a nod told Abby to follow him. 

They both entered the church and Abby closed the door behind them. 

“Oh wow.” Abby was amazed to see the place. 

It was a small, ordinary abandoned church. The wooden benches were broken, as were the windows, and there was debris everywhere. The roof had holes and let in light and snow, giving the place a magical atmosphere. 

“Hey Abs. It seems that not everything is lost.” Woods snapped Abby out of her shock. 

The girl looked in the direction where his voice came from. In one corner were more supply boxes and a fuel tank. 

“Do you think there will be gasoline inside?” Abby asked, approaching her grandfather. 

“Let's find out.” Woods put his backpack on the ground and took out the fuel bottle. 

“maybe the gasoline has frozen.” Abby commented watching what Woods did. 

“Gasoline freezes at -60 degrees Celsius. There’s no way it can be that cold here.” Woods moved the canister to the opening of the fuel tank and opened it.

“Well, it's too damn cold.” Abby rubbed her hands in a vague attempt to warm them.

“Oh hell yeah baby.” Frank smirked.

“Hey, watch your language. This is the house of God.” Abby pretended to scold him.

“We got some gas.” Woods informed. 

“Oh fuck yeah!” 

“Bring the other jugs from outside, we will fill them and take them too.” Woods ordered, after he had filled the jug and put the cap back on. 

Abby brought them and they filled them all. They had three 20 liter drums, that added up to 60 liters in total. With that they could fill the car's tank. 

“Do you think you can carry one in your backpack?” Woods handed her a jug. 

Abby put her backpack on the floor and checked the extra space inside. 

“I think I can carry one.” She answered.

"Good." 

They kept the gasoline cans in their backpacks. Woods carried one in his hand. 

“Aren't you carrying too much weight?” Abby asked, raising an eyebrow. Her backpack was beginning to weigh quite a bit. 

“I've carried your grandfather on my shoulders for hours. Believe me he weighed more than this.” Woods responded by slinging the backpack over his shoulders again. 

Abby raised an eyebrow. “I will remind you of those words when you start complaining about back pain.” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “Come on, let's go, I think I've seen a couple of buildings where we can take a shortcut.” 

They both left through the back door of the church. Always making sure no one was around. Although the city seemed more than abandoned. They crossed the street quickly and entered a large building which seemed to be in much better condition than the rest. 

They found a large hall, with a polished marble floor and high ceilings. 

“This building seems to have been preserved quite w—OH MY GOD!” Abby exclaimed suddenly. 

"What? What's happening?" Woods didn’t hesitate to put himself on guard and look in all directions. Danger? A corpse? Explosives? A trap? 

"Look!" Abby pointed to a sign on one of the walls in the hallway. 

On the poster he could read in large blue letters: “SCIENCE EXHIBITION: FROM THE DINOSAURS TO THE MOON”

Woods read the sign several times and then looked at the girl with a serious expression. 

“Abby…” 

"Can we go? Only five minutes!" Abby put both hands together “please please please please please please.” Abby pleaded but was already walking backwards towards the exhibit. “Please please please please please…”

Frank sighed, perhaps this was the first time he had seen her eyes shine like that since he met her again. For a moment he found little Abby again, and perhaps that was what finally softened his heart.

“Okay… but only five minutes.” Woods began to follow her in the direction of the museum entrance. 

"YEAH!" Abby raised both hands in victory. 

As the sign indicated, the exhibition began with the dinosaurs. There were skeletons and fossils everywhere. Prehistoric giants made of bone, it was incredible that all of it had survived the war, there was rubble, cracks and holes in some places but other than that, everything was incredibly well preserved. 

Despite the weight Abby was carrying on her back, she didn't hesitate to run around like a kid. Her inner child was jumping for joy. When was the last time Abby visited a science museum? Not even she remembered. 

She stood in front of a fossilized stegosaurus skeleton and watched it for a few seconds until Woods came to her side. 

“Did you know that this dinosaur had a brain the size of a walnut?” Abby commented. 

“Wow, yours is almost as big as his.” Woods smirked. 

“Hahaha… very funny.” Abby rolled her eyes and punched him on the shoulder, but she was unable to hide her smile. 

Woods chuckled, satisfied with his joke. 

They walked around some more, looking at models and fossils, until Abby found a small reception area, sat down in the chair, and put the phone to her ear as if someone was calling. 

“Oh sorry all the dinosaurs are busy right now so…” she pretended to talk to someone. 

"What are you doing…?" Woods walked over and placed a hand on the table. 

“Oh! It's your lucky day! I have one of the dinosaurs right in front of me.” Abby handed him the phone. “Frank, is for you.” 

“You wouldn't be the funniest person in the world by any chance?” Woods raised an eyebrow. 

Abby laughed and stood up, satisfied that she had returned the joke. “I'm actually quite funny.” 

“Whatever you say, Miss Comedian.” Woods ruffled Abby's hair as he passed her. Abby laughed again as she felt Frank's heavy hand on her head, which made the veteran's smile wider. 

Abby walked over to a model in the center of the room. 

“It's a Mbiresaurus Raathi.” Abby read aloud the name of the dinosaur on the information sign: “It says that it lived about 230 million years ago. The oldest known dinosaur.” Abby whistled in surprise. “He's almost as old as you.” 

“I look better than him.” Frank responded looking at the two meter tall lizard.

“The CIA has resurrected and rejuvenated you almost fifty years; a meteorite fell on him.” Abby raised an eyebrow. 

Woods shrugged. 

“I would call it natural beauty.” 

"If you say so…"

They continued walking through different rooms, Abby was commenting on the things that were on display and Woods joked from time to time. Almost for a moment they both forgot the situation they were in.

“No fucking way.” Abby almost couldn't believe it when she saw a huge model of a space shuttle.

“Big Spaceship huh?” Woods walked around it to get a good look at it.

“It's not a spaceship. It's a shuttle! With this, the astronauts were taken to the international space station.” Abby looked at it like a little child looks at cotton candy, full of excitement and happiness. “This is a model of the Endeavor shuttle, the original is in California, if it is still in one piece. They launched it into space for the first time in 1992.”

“I had almost forgotten that you were a nerd about these things…” Woods walked around the large room a little more, there were more models on display.

"Hey!" Abby complained and quickly caught up to Woods that he seemed to have become interested in another model. “That's the Sputnik satellite. It was the first satellite to be sent into space in 1957, crazy huh?.”

"Sputnik?" Woods repeated. “the Russians sent this one.”

“Yeah.” Abby shrugged. “The Soviets were more advanced than us in space technology. Don't look at me like that, you know I'm right. The Cold War ended almost forty years ago.”

This was a topic on which Woods and Abby had different opinions. But Frank didn't feel like arguing with her and ruining the moment. Luckily Abby wasn't interested in getting into that debate either since her attention was completely diverted when she saw a broken display case with an astronaut suit.

“Hey Frank! Look!” Abby grabbed the helmet and didn't hesitate to put it on her head.

Woods crossed his arms and leaned against the display case. "Looks Good on you. Ready to go to the moon?”

“We're going to have to find another helmet for you. I’m not going to go alone.”

Woods smiled softly.

“Is it comfortable to wear that?” he asked again.

"More or less. It smells like space, or probably like dust.” Abby took off her helmet and turned it over. She watched her reflection in her visor. “I would like to take it with me…”

“Then take it. Who's going to stop you? The security guard?” Woods looked around, implying that they were completely alone. "I thought you were the rebel one who doesn't care about rules."

Abby's smile widened.

“It's better to take the astronaut helmet than that space shuttle over there.” Woods nodded at the model of the Endeavor.

Abby laughed and looked at the helmet for a few seconds, her green eyes turning a little sad. She sighed and shook her head.

“We still have a long way to go and this helmet would only be a hindrance. I don't even know where I could keep it” And she put it in the display case again.

Woods didn't say anything, Abby was right but he didn't want to discourage her further either. But suddenly something shining on the ground caught his attention. He walked towards it and grabbed it. He ran his thumb over it to remove the dust. It was a pin in the shape of an incredibly detailed moon, with its craters and irregularities. It had a phrase written that said “to the Moon and back.”

He returned to Abby and handed her the pin.

“And how about this? It's more practical to carry it, isn't it?"

Abby's eyes lit up again. She grabbed the pin carefully and looked at it for a few seconds. She smiled and clipped it to Woods' jacket, over his chest pocket.

“it was meant to be yours, Abs…” Woods said as he watched Abby adjust it to his jacket.

“I know, but I would be happier if you wore it.” Abby responded.

"Why? I’m not the space nerd here.”

Abby rolled her eyes and looked at the pin on Woods' jacket, it fit him well. She patted his chest and smiled.

“Because I will always be your astronaut and you will always be my moon.”

That response took Woods completely off guard. To say his heart had melted was an understatement. But he'd never been good with emotions, so he simply smiled and pulled Abby's ear affectionately.

“Come on, let's see what's out there.” Woods had seen in the distance an even bigger room with something that Abby would like even more.

They arrived at what looked like the main exhibition hall. Abby found it difficult to close her mouth. The room was huge, there was a glass dome on the ceiling, from there hung a huge model of the solar system. There were walkways and stairs leading to higher floors, probably to other smaller rooms in the exhibition. There were models of rovers, spaceships and meteorite rocks displayed in glass cases. But what caught the most attention was the enormous globe of Mars in the center of the room. An incredibly detailed model of the red planet. 

They both remained silent for a few seconds looking at the enormous planet in front of them. 

"We used to look up at the sky and wonder what our place is in the stars. Now we just look down and bury our heads in the dirt" Abby sighed and shook her head,completely lost in her thought.

"Who knows. Maybe there will be astronauts again one day.” Woods tried to cheer her up. 

“You've seen how the world is, Frank… humanity is not going to recover from this blow for a long time. And I doubt people will ever be interested in what lies beyond the stratosphere again.” Abby was staring at Mars. 

Woods didn't say anything, he knew Abby was right. Maybe humanity had more important things to do before returning to space, who knows, maybe it will never go there again.

“In 2024, NASA managed to send six astronauts to Mars with the intention of starting a colony there.” Abby began to explain. “The mission was a success. But when Cordis Die started and everything became complete chaos, the world forgot about them. They never came back.” 

"They are dead?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. It's like Schrödinger's cat. They are alive and dead at the same time, we won't know until we see them.” Abby paused. “Maybe they have managed to survive, maybe they managed to create a stable source of water and food, it's pure chemistry, it could be done. Or maybe they died asphyxiated by Martian dust five years ago. We just don’t know.” 

Woods nodded. It must be terrifying to die alone in a place so far from home, he almost experienced it several times. 

“What a terrible way to die. And you dreamed of being an astronaut? Why would you want such a dangerous job?” Woods put the gas can on the ground.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Abby looked up at the veteran. She smiled as a sign that she had no intention of offending him. 

Woods was quiet for a few seconds. He knew Abby was referring to his work at the CIA, and how after he died he could continue working for them.

“...Because it's the only thing I know how to do”

Abby's smile turned a little sad again. 

“That's not true Frank.” 

Again Woods didn't know what to answer. It surprised him how many times Abby cornered him like that. Perhaps in her short life, she had known him more than she had known him. In some ways it reminded him of Mason. 

Suddenly something pulled him out of his thoughts. A red dot appeared on Abby's chest and slowly rose until it was between both eyebrows. 

All his alarms went off. 

“Abby!” Woods forcefully pushed her out of the path of the sniper rifle. The deafening noise of a gunshot was heard, somewhere on the walkways to the upper floors. A sharp stabbing pain pierced Woods' shoulder from behind. 

Frank staggered from the impact force of the shot but managed not to fall. 

“Woods!” Abby grabbed his shoulders worriedly. 

“Don't dawdle now, run!” Woods grabbed Abby's arm and ran until they both took cover behind some display cases. 

Voices and screams began to be heard, people running and shots being fired everywhere. 

Woods grabbed his shoulder and grunted in pain. 

“They hit you.” Abby spoke terribly worried about the sergeant. 

“It's not as serious as it looks.” Woods lied. “Who the hell are these people?” 

“Probably the raiders of this area. The trucks we saw before must be theirs.” Abby responded as she took her rifle off her shoulder but Woods stopped her. 

"Not yet. Let them get closer.” Woods put his backpack down and grabbed Abby's rifle. He poked his head out slightly and quickly counted how many enemies they were facing. “Four, six, seven… seven motherfuckers.” He returned to hide behind the display case just as a bullet hit too close. “I Can handle them.” 

Of course Woods could handle them, he had been in much worse situations than that. The only thing he really worried about was Abby. 

“Abby, leave your things here, just take the gun and the knife.” Frank turned to the young woman. “There is an emergency door in that direction, do not shoot unless strictly necessary, do you know how to use the knife? No, of course you know how to use knives, you stabbed Adler without thinking.” 

“Frank, what are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

As soon as Woods saw a shooter lean out to shoot again, he grabbed Abby by the collar of her jacket and pulled her down to hide better. 

“Listen to me for once in your life, Abigail.” Woods' tone of voice sounded authoritative. “You are going to do what I tell you whether you like it or not.” 

Abby's worried eyes traveled back to the gunshot wound in Woods' shoulder. Frank realized this and sighed. 

“I'll be fine kid, I'll catch up with you before you know it. Now go." Woods nodded toward the emergency door. 

Abby wanted to reproach him again but she knew there was no point, Woods was just as stubborn as she was. So she nodded, left her backpack there and when the assailants took their time reloading their weapons, she ran towards the nearest door. 

As soon as she crossed, she closed the door behind her, there was a smaller museum room but she didn't even stop to see what was displayed there. She ran across the room until she reached the emergency door, opened it and found a long hallway where at the end there was another door that surely led to the outside. She stopped for a moment. Maybe there were more people outside, she didn't know how many people were fighting, maybe they were waiting for them outside. 

Suddenly footsteps were heard approaching. Had Woods finished with those bastards? Abby had no way of knowing. But she soon discovered that there were several people. 

It wasn’t Woods.

“Shit…” Abby cursed as she pulled out the knife. 

The footsteps got closer and closer, until they stopped right in front of the door, a tense silence filled the place. 

“She must be around here… Keep your eyes open, boys.”

Abby was on guard. Were those men the same ones who were fighting with Woods? Were they other guys? Had they done something to Woods? That possibility made Abby nervous. 

The door opened slowly, letting some light into the dark hallway. She didn't know how many she was going to face. But no matter what, Abby was going to kill them. She was going to kill them all. 

Woods finally managed to shoot the sniper on the upper catwalks. Of the seven men there, he managed to kill three. 

“Not Tommy!” A man was heard screaming. 

That almost managed to distract Woods, out of the corner of his eye he saw someone lunge at him. Frank managed to dodge the knife and hit him in the face. The man staggered back, and Woods took the opportunity to shoot him in the leg with his pistol. The man screamed in pain and before he could react Woods put his arm around his neck and pulled him towards him, using him as a human shield. 

With the man in front protecting him, Woods allowed himself the luxury of coming out of hiding and managing to shoot another man in the shoulder. Frank was about to shoot a second time, this time in the head, when a voice stopped him suddenly. 

“Pull the trigger one more time and I swear to God I’ll kill the girl!” 

Everyone stopped. The shooting stopped and the museum fell silent. Two men appeared, they were covered in bruises and signs of a fight. One was bleeding and limping on one leg, the other was holding Abby by the neck and jamming the barrel of the gun into her temple. Abby locked eyes with Woods, her nose was bleeding and she had a split eyebrow. 

“Let go.” The man holding Abby ordered. “Let him go or I'll stain the floor with her brains.” He threatened. 

Abby shook her head slightly. Woods was breathing hard, it was a too compromising situation, he couldn't risk Abby getting hurt. So Frank reluctantly let the man go. 

As soon as he did, someone kicked him behind the knee and pushed him to the ground. 

“Frank!” Abby screamed. “Let go of memotherfucker! I'll kill you!" 

The man holding her pressed the gun even harder against Abby's head. 

“Abby!” Woods exclaimed worriedly, he wanted to get up but one of the raiders put his knee on his back and the rifle pointed at his head. 

"Wait wait! Don’t shoot!" The man who had earlier been taken hostage by Woods tried to stop his partner. 

“Why?” The other man threatening Abby didn't seem in a good mood. “The girl killed Joe and Billy! She deserves to die!" 

“That girl saved my son.” The man looked at Abby, hoping she would recognize him. “Back in Chicago. Remember?” 

Abby stared at him for a few seconds. She tried to loosen the grip on her neck without success. 

“I remember you.” Abby answered. 

The man nodded and then looked at his companions. “She gave me medicine for little Simon. She saved him. I owe her my life.” 

The man behind Abby didn't look very happy. “They have killed three of our people, they have stolen our gasoline too.” 

“He killed Tommy! My brother!" The man who had his knee on Woods exclaimed. 

“They came from Chicago. They may have valuable information.” The father tried to insist. “She has saved my son. Your nephew, James.” 

The man holding Abby and who seemed to be the leader spent a few seconds thinking. 

He growled in frustration and shook his head. “Knock them out. We’ll take them to camp with us.” 

Hearing that, Abby became upset and tried to free herself even harder. 

“Abby no!” Woods exclaimed. 

But for Abby it was too late, she felt a strong blow to her head and everything went dark. 

____________

David ran to the hospital. The plane had been delayed two hours, since he had received the news he had done everything possible to return home on time, but apparently despite his efforts he didn’t succeed. 

He crossed the hall until he reached the table where the reception desk was located. The receptionist seemed to be typing something into the computer when David arrived.

“Hey.” David greeted, somewhat agitated in an attempt to remain calm. The nurse looked up from the screen and looked at him with a bored expression. “Huh… I'm looking for Alice Mason, her water broke this morning. I am her husband.” he showed the ID.

The woman checked the ID for a few long seconds, looking at the ID and then at David repeatedly. Then she typed some more on the computer. David shifted impatiently on the spot. 

“Alice Mason already gave birth two hours ago, she is resting in her room.” The woman reported. 

“oh…” David realized that he had missed the birth of his first child because of work. He ran his hand through his hair and laughed nervously. “My wife gave birth alone. I must look like a horrible husband.” He smiled sadly. 

The woman changed her bored expression for a slightly more compassionate look.

“I am not the woman who should judge that. Your wife is in room 240, second floor. The elevator is on the left.” The receptionist pointed there. 

David nodded and left with a final, polite “thank you.” 

He took the elevator and arrived as quickly as he could to the room that the woman had indicated to him. Some nurses even called him out for running through the hospital hallways. 

When he arrived at the indicated door David made an effort to calm down. He had just become a father, he was a father. He almost couldn't believe it. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. 

As soon as he entered the room he met his wife's tired eyes. She was lying on the hospital stretcher, her hair completely tangled and huge dark circles under her eyes. But still, for David, he still saw her as the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Hey…” Alice smiled and stretched out her hand towards him. 

David did not hesitate to shorten the distance and take her hand in his. He sat on the edge of the stretcher and kissed her knuckles. 

“Hey…” he said back with a small smile. He placed Alice's knuckles next to his cheek as he stroked the back of her hand gently with his thumb. "How do you feel?" 

“Exhausted.” Alice sighed, her face looked like she hadn't slept in days. 

David leaned towards her and kissed her sweetly. He wanted to kiss her more, with more passion, to tell her how much he had missed her, that the days without her were horrible. But in the state his wife was in he had to be more delicate. 

“You've done an amazing job, momma.” It was the first time David had called Alice that, and he was surprised by how sweet it sounded. They both knew that they had to get used to the life of being parents, but luckily they would do it together. 

“And you're late.” Alice scolded him, but the tired smile indicated that she wasn't really angry. 

"I know. I am so sorry my love.” David kissed her forehead and knuckles again. He wanted to make excuses, that the plane had been delayed for two hours because of a storm, that the traffic jam from the airport to the hospital had been eternal... but David knew that at that moment those excuses were worthless. He made a mental note to make up for it with lots of massages and good food.  

"It¡s ok honey. She has also arrived earlier than the estimated date.” Alice cupped David's cheek with her other hand. 

He looked up. 

“She?” He asked surprised. 

Alice's smile widened and she nodded. "It's a girl." 

David and Alice had made the decision not to know the gender of the baby until it was born. David never had a preference for one gender or another, but upon hearing that it was a girl, his heart skipped a beat. It is always said that daughters have a special place in the hearts of fathers. 

“Have you decided on a name?” David asked curiously. 

Alice stayed for a few seconds looking at her husband. 

“Abigail. Abigail Mason.” She answered. 

That surprised David, it wasn't that he disliked the name either. 

“Abigail? I don’t remember that name on our list.” David remembered that they had a long list of names for their future baby. They never managed to decide on one. 

Alice chuckled. “I didn't name her. It was Woods.” 

“Woods? Are you letting the old sergeant choose our daughter’s name?” He joked. 

Alice rolled her eyes. “He just proposed the name, and I liked it. Do you like it?" 

Dave nodded. 

“And where is our dear Abigail?” David looked around. He noticed that the crib next to the hospital bed was empty. 

“Frank took her to the waiting room for a little while so I could rest a little.” Alice explained. “She has very strong lungs.” She chuckled. 

“Has Woods been with you during the birth?” 

“He was waiting outside. As soon as I called him to tell him that my water had broken, he didn't hesitate for a second to come to the hospital.” Alice answered. 

"And your family?" 

“They said they were on their way but had gotten into a traffic jam.” She sighed. “I guess it's better this way, you know how Woods gets when he sees my parents.” 

David remembered the last family meeting, and nodded. "Then I'll go find those two." David kissed Alice, a slow and tender kiss. “You rest in the meantime.” 

“Yes sir.”

Alice nodded and closed her eyes as soon as David left the room. 

David searched the hospital floor until he found a small waiting room. There was old Woods by the window, sitting as always in his wheelchair, and with a small bundle of blankets in his arms. David approached without making much noise.

“You like grabbing the finger huh?” Woods spoke in a very soft tone, something strange for him. “Yeah, you have a really strong grip, Abs.” 

“Hey old Man.” David greeted, taking care not to scare the veteran. 

“Oh Dave.” Woods smiled as soon as he heard David's voice. Frank looked down at what was in his arms. A small baby's face peeked out from between the blankets, big green eyes that stood out. “Look Abby, your dad's already here.” 

David's heart melted the moment he saw the girl, his girl, his daughter. David had just met her and had already fallen in love with her, that baby had become his ray of sunshine. 

“Do you want to hold her?” Woods asked. 

David was a little nervous but he didn't hesitate and nodded. Woods carefully handed the baby to his nephew. Little Abby stirred at the sudden movement but once she settled into her father's arms she relaxed again. 

"Hi gorgeous." David murmured sweetly. His legs were shaking, his heart was going to burst, and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears. 

Abby opened her small eyes as she recognized her father's voice. David had spoken to her so many times while she was inside her mother's belly. Which Abby didn't take long to recognize. 

That made David's smile wider. And Woods's.

David rocked Abby gently, trying to put her to sleep. 

“So Abigail huh?” David looked at his adoptive uncle. “I didn't know you had a name in mind.”

Woods sighed. 

“Not exactly my idea.” Frank answered, looking at his hands, old and calloused. “More like your parents’.” 

David raised his head curiously. 

“Well, more exactly from Em, from your mother. Although your father also liked the idea.” Woods began to explain. “When Em was pregnant with you, she thought that if there was a chance you were going to be a girl, she would name you Abigail.” 

That caused a wave of thought in David, about his mother and father. He tried to remember moments of his parents together. They were all blurry. 

A whimper from Abby brought him out of his thoughts. David looked down and saw Abby thrashing in her father's arms. Surely she was starting to get sleepy. 

“Abby…” he murmured. "I like it." He smiled at Woods. 

Frank nodded. 

“She has a good father. She will do great things.” 

“Section.” Harper's voice woke David up from his little nap. The lack of sleep had taken a huge toll on David. 

David looked around, they were outside the White House, the Wolves seemed to be reorganizing again. He was sitting on some cargo boxes. Delta was lying next to him, resting his head on David's lap.

“Are you okay brother?” Harper asked, seeing his friend's exhausted expression, he had terrible circles under his eyes. 

"Yes Yes. I just had a strange dream.” He brushed it off as he stroked Delta behind the ears. The dog raised his head, happy to see his owner awake.

Harper nodded unconvinced. “The truck is ready.”

David climbed down from the cargo boxes and picked up his backpack. "Thank you. You didn’t have to do it.” 

“I wanted to make sure everything was in ordert.” Harper guided David to the truck he had mentioned. “Provisions, ammunition, gasoline…. Everything you need to get to Chicago.” He handed the keys to the vehicle to David, who accepted them with a nod. 

David opened the passenger door and with a quick whistle ordered Delta into the car. The dog obeyed without question. He closed the door and sighed. 

“I hope your contact was right.” David looked his friend in the eyes. 

That same morning a group of the Chicago Wolves had arrived. David didn't hesitate to ask about his daughter Abby. The men confirmed that before they left they had heard rumors that someone had brought in an unconscious girl. That only fueled David's hope.

“She will be there. Don't worry." Harper assured him. 

Both friends hugged each other as farewell. 

“Be careful out there. And bring Abby back.”

"I will." 

__________

Tag list: @efingart @alypink @applbottmjeens @justasmolbard @whitewolfmystery @welldonekhushi @sleepyconfusedpotato (let me know if you want to be tagged or un tagged!)

[charles-simmons-fanfiction]

Late summer nights - Todd Anderson / Neil Perry

Description: Neil is a summer person, and Todd is a Neil person. That's the story. 💛 [fluff, 800 words]

By the way, this is based off of this post! It's a headcanon by the super cool and awesome @perksofbeingpoet <3 This was so fun to write, I might write more summer fics with dps <- me projecting how energetic I get during summer on them

Todd could swear he would pass out from the heat any second now. Neil, on the other hand, hadn't been this energetic it's been weeks.

"Physics homework, done!" Neil exclaimed victoriously, closing his notebook and throwing it on his desk.

"Already? How?" Todd had just finished the first half of his work, and he hadn't even started the one for chemistry. Soon summer break would start and the teachers weren't taking it easy on them, not that they ever did.

"It looks like it'll rain tomorrow, explains why today's so hot," Neil ignored his question. The window was wide open and he had half his body out of it, only a small push away from falling. "We should go outside! While we still can, y'know."

"What? No, I still have way too much work to do," the physics assignment in front of him was pushed aside before he could protest.

"I'll give you the answers and explain them to you tomorrow. C'mon!" Neil grabbed him by the arm. Todd wanted to insist, but he wanted to go with him a lot better.

They had to be silent while they sneaked out, so, naturally, they couldn't stop laughing. It was quite a struggle and they had to be constantly shushing the other.

Once they got outside, the hot wind blew on their faces. Todd considered going back in again.

Neil smiled and, without any warning, took off running to the woods, laughing way too loudly as Todd tried to catch up with him. They didn't stop running for a while, to not risk getting caught.

"Oh my god, shut up!" Todd covered Neil's mouth with his hands, pushing him against a tree to keep him quiet. "Are you crazy?? There's no way no one heard us!" Despite his heart beating quickly from the adrenaline, he could only laugh with him.

"Carpe Diem, my dear," Neil's voice came out muffled and he gently took Todd's hand off his mouth. "We'll be fine."

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, looking into each other's eyes, close enough to feel their hot breath on their already warm cheeks. A light breeze wiggled the trees and everything felt silent, except for the crickets probably not too far away.

Neil's deep brown eyes seemed to shrink when he smiled, almost sparkling as he looked at him so contently. His pink lips were slightly parted and a strand of hair had fallen on his face. He had an image of graceful disarray, and the night suddenly didn't feel as half as warm as his presence did.

"Your hair is getting long," was all that Todd managed to say.

Neil was caught slightly off guard and chuckled. "Yeah, I have to get a haircut soon."

"Please don't," Todd asked, maybe a little too fast. "It looks great like this."

"Thanks," they broke eye contact awkwardly, not knowing how to continue a conversation, and also not really wanting to.

It was way too hot. Todd couldn't understand how anyone could even like summer. He had always hated the way his hand felt sweaty, and how hard it was to fall asleep even with the window open. Also, any class outside was insufferable if there was sun.

At the same time, Neil seemed to be doing so well. And let the truth be said, it only took a little attention to see how depressed he could get some days. But not recently. No, Neil seemed to be genuinely doing fine.

Todd smiled at the thought, and for the first time, he hoped summer would last as long as possible. "Next weekend, if we finish our homework, we should go get ice cream. To make the heat more bearable," he shyly suggested, mentally repeating "carpe diem" to himself.

"I was thinking about that! I'm sure the other's would be super down for i-"

"Wait, no," Todd stopped him. "I meant like, you and me."

"Oh," Neil was taken aback, but nodded slowly, a smile creeping on his face. His tone was soft when he spoke. "Yes, I think we should."

The two went silent again, and Todd did his best not to smile like an idiot. The next hour wasn't anything but mundane chatting and walking around, but they wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

At some point, Neil tried to take his hand as they walked, but Todd pulled it back. "It's way too hot for this," he complained, yet eventually gave in and took Neil's hand back. Neither of them mentioned it.

"I love summer," Neil stated matter-of-factly. "It's easily the best season. To me, at least. What's your favorite?"

"You"

"What?"

"Autumn"

Again, neither of them mentioned it. Although Todd briefly considered hitting his head against a tree and just staying there forever.

That night, Neil fell asleep as soon as he got back to his dorm, without even changing. Todd didn't, it was too hot. He sighed, and looked at his roommate, who was smiling in his sleep.

"He's crazy," Todd thought, still not getting why anyone would like summer, but suddenly not feeling so bad about it. He fell asleep with a soft smile too. At least they'd get ice cream.

💛.

[thekinkyleopard]

Revenge Turned Spicy

Kanai x Draeko x Alistar

A Non-Canon One-Shot Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning ⚠️

Denial, Snz, Mess, Teasing

Author’s Notes: What’s this?! A fic so soon after the last release of a fic? Is Kezzi…unblocked?! This is a request Geezie made a LONG while ago and I’ve spent far too long putting it off and must tackle the task! Art and both Kanai & Draeko owned and created by @aller-geez 🥰

Description: This fic is mostly inspired by the prompt below! With Kezzi Flair!

Snz Color Index:

Kanai

Draeko

Alistar pranked Kanai pretty unfairly, it was the first time it actually made the hound feel almost slightly…embarrassed? That wouldn’t do. He’s been letting the idea marinate but he’s found the perfect in. He knows Al has a raging Fetish for sneezing, as well as an insatiable sexual appetite. He decides to recruit Draeko for his revenge.

Almost in a panic, like he was in the rush of his life, Kanai came barreling into his bedroom. Like he suspected, Draeko was sitting on the bed, playing his switch, but quickly looked up when the door swung open. “Hi Nai!” The mutt smiled happily setting his console down, wiggling in his seat as his little tail swayed back and forth. “What’s up?” His ears flickered.

Kanai stood there for a second, lifeless, emotionless, the usual. “Luciftias…” he spoke, tone flat but clearly something was on his mind.

“Yes..?” He cocked his head, a mint brow raised as he braced himself for the incoming wave of whatever confusion weighed heavy on Nai’s brain.

“I have a favor,” their heterochromia eyes stared deeply into one another, paused for a second before Draeko eventually opened his mouth to respond.

“A favor?” Though he was slightly apprehensive, he trusted Kanai far more than Alistar when it came to favors, so more or less, there was intrigue.

“Yes,” Kanai spoke again, still cold and lifeless as he started.

“Okay???” Draeko raised his brows as if waiting for the demon to continue, but was met with a few more seconds of silence.

“Would you like to help?” He finally asked, taking him a while to process how asking a favor should go, so he was checking all his boxes before just getting on with the subject.

“Oh my god! Yes! Out with it!” Draeko giggled impatiently now rolling his eyes as he swayed back and forth in the criss cross position.

“I wish to prank Alistar….he told me there was this creature, that the humans could never catch called a ‘Snipe’ so he sent me on a ‘Snipe hunt’….” Draeko’s face winced, he already knew where this was going. He’d had the same prank done on him as a child, so this was only ever going to go in one direction already.

“Oh…Nai…” he bit his lip, honestly trying his best not to laugh.

“They don’t exist, Drae…” Kanai’s flat face turned into that of what could only be described as irritation. Possibly a mix of visceral annoyance.

“No…no they don’t…” Drae shook his head in response, and disbelief. He couldn’t imagine his poor hell hound out there for hours calling for an animal that didn’t exist where he was looking. Or let alone the specific one he was probably searching for.

“Well, they do, they’re birds…not a small rodent that answers the world’s most impossible questions…point is..I was out there for 4 hours…” the hound now pinched the bridge of his nose as his eyes closed with sheer embarrassment. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t tell him to look in the middle of Time Square NYC. Sewer dwellers. He figured he would save that half of the terrible crime to himself. He was experiencing shame for the first time, because how could he have fallen for something for so long??

“Yeah…okay, I’ll help you, what are we doing?” Immediately, Draeko was on board. Al was mean, but this was too far. Having him out there for longer than 10 minutes is just cruel.

“Okay wonderful..Now…I figured, Al really likes that thing we do, when our body has a mini explosion,” he was rolling his open hand trying to find the right word for what he was trying to describe. He knew it but, it escaped him.

“Sneezing,” The mutt nodded once, holding onto his feet as he rocked, to patiently listen, and hang on to the rest of Kanai’s plan.

“Yes, that…we would have a competition, me and you, while he’s home,” the hound explained further, his eyes searching over Drae’s to observe his reactions. Already seeing a disconnect behind the other’s gaze.

“Ok…ay?” The mutt thought, he knew what the other was trying to say but, if they make Al horny, he’s just going to fuck them. He doesn’t see how that’s a prank.

“But we don’t let him have consent,” Kanai now lifts his index in a finger gun, something he’d seen Al do when he gets to a punchline. He figured it felt appropriate here.

“Oh?” Drae’s tail waggled again, back and forth. The two of them knew that Alistar couldn’t fuck someone if they told him no, and meant it.

“Yes. No consent. You have to remain strong,” Kanai pointed his finger sternly in the hybrid’s direction.

“Hey! I can resist!” Lifting both his hands up defensively while pleading with his softened grey and mint duo colored eyes.

Kanai looked at him with a look that clearly said, he didn’t believe him. “Can you?” Head tilted slightly and his eyes narrowed.

“I can!” Again he spoke up but confidently, slamming his fists on each side of him on the mattress.

“Okay, it’s imperative you can, Luciftias,” the hound responded, starting to feel more confident in Drae’s determination.

“Promise! You can rely on me, NaiNai!” The mutt raised his hand up in a salut, causing the hound to actually lift his lips into a small side smile.

“Okay, good, what do we have in the house that can easily induce?” The smile fell as fast as it showed, back into his game plan they both mulled over it silently. Draeko being the first to speak up.

“Ooo we have some black pepper??” Lifting his index like a light bulb.

“That should do just fine,” Kanai nodded in agreement as they both settled with this means of induction.

“Okay, I’ll go get it, where should we do this?” Quickly, Drae got off the bed and put his hands to his hips ready for action.

“Living room, it’s right by the front door, we should start before he gets in so it doesn’t seem planned,” the hound explained to the small hybrid as he too got up from the bed and they both started making their way out of the bedroom and into the main part of the apartment.

“Good idea!” Draeko trailed behind the larger, and while Nai stopped in the living room, the mutt continued all the way into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. It wasn’t a hard find, the pepper. One of their most used spices, but he paused. Would this have negative consequences later? Possibly…however, if he just slept in Kanai’s room….forever! Things should be just fine.

Meanwhile in the living room, Kanai is sitting on the couch, contemplating the ways this plan might possibly go south. If Al isn’t in a good mood, perhaps this may be pointless altogether. However, if Al is in a good mood all WILL go according to plan. Which is about a 80/20 probability so it today, Kanai is hoping statistically, should go in his favor.

“Okay I got the pepper…maybe we should be shirtless?” Draeko toddled back into the living room, setting the seasoning down onto the coffee table before coming back to a full stand. Kanai broke out of his mental math gymnastics long enough to look the mutt up and down curiously.

“Why?” Sincere in his questioning, he wasn’t sure what taking their shirts off would do to improve the plan but he was a willing partner in this, he could be open minded.

“I don’t know, makes us look more irresistible?” Drae shrugged his shoulders once over but Kanai nodded, agreeing with the hybrid male.

“…Good idea,” Already the two of them began to strip themselves of their shirts, taking a seat side by side on the couch directly behind the coffee table. They sat there…eyeing the bottle of pepper. Then they both turned to look at each other and in unison, closed their eyes, gripped their fists tightly and took three deep breaths.

“Ready?” Kanai now opened his eyes, released his fists and turned to look at Drae, who was reluctantly opening his own, the moment he felt Kanai’s presence on him.

“As ready as I’ll ever be to purposefully induce myself…” breaking a nervous smile across his blushing cheeks. He hated sneezing, especially since once he got started, it was almost like it was never going to end. Draeko took a deep breath.

“Fair,” Kanai nodded once, he understood all too well. However, it was a small price to pay in order to send Alistar into the world’s most painful discomfort without any tension relief. The hound grabbed the shaker, and twisted the cap off the glass container, particles of spice trickled off the lid through his fingers before setting the piece onto the table. Now just holding the shaker itself, lidless. He turned it on it’s side, dumping a bit too much of the substance into his palm. Neither of them needed to snort it, as just while Kanai wafted the seasoning across their smelling range, they both began to hitch, and gasp.

“H-…H..” Kanai started first, his nose itching as he thrashed it around in circles his eyes squinting and he immediately wanted to cover his face but realized it was still full of pepper. “Dr-…Hah’ The…hIh’…PeehhEh’kkssshuuh!” Immediately he sneezed into the open palm of pepper causing it to puff outward in the air all around them, only resulting in the inhalation of even more spice than they had originally anticipated. Their eyes widened in horror, a calculation Kanai had not considered a possibility. At the same moment the front door swung open and in came Al right before the kick off.

“A—Hh’NDKT’ih! H’GXTSH’UE! K’GNSH! H’NDK’IH!” The sudden eruption that greeted the demon, completely off set his entrance and he stood in the open doorway with his mouth slightly agape. Then Nai popped off.

“Oh n-Hh’KSHHh’hieww! Eh’KGSSH..!” Trying to make it into his inner elbow but missed entirely, both of them openly spraying all over the coffee table to leave behind a fine, speckled mess of saliva flecks across the wooden surface. Al’s jaw unhinged even further, stunned silent almost mentally you could picture him crying cartoonishly with his heart beating rabidly and unrealistically out of his chest.

“Is it my birthday already?! You guys!” Snibbling softly almost overwhelmed with emotions, he dabbed at his fake tears and clapped his hands together. “Who’s turn first???”

“No-…IHH’GXXNT’iiew!! Ih’GNXT! H’KXNT!” Draeko tried began to interject but the peppery air was infinitely way overdosed. Shaking his head rapidly, his eyes welled in tears, and his nose was redder than a cherry. He hicked and hitched, trying his best to speak, but finding every time he opened his mouth, another session of sneeze escaped. “Hihh’GXXTsh’iiew! Ehh’GXTCH! K’GNSHH!!” Drae’s hands flailed wildly as he tried to interject and explain their situation but it was useless, he was in way too deep as spit and snot came hurdling out of his itching face.

“We are h-HaAh..ving aaHh~ …Coohhaa’Ahntest…” Kanai sniffled and huffed as best as he could through the urges but not much context could come out before he too found himself stuck in a cycle. “Hh’KGGSSHh’IH! HH’KTisSh! HEH’KSSHUH!” His arm flung over his face as he tried to cover the amount of mess they were making amongst their living space. Alistar shook his head trying to clear himself into a coherent thought as all of this sudden treasure was bestowed upon him. Did he do something good today? Did he earn a treat? What was this momentous occasion he stumbled into!?

“Please…don’t mind me…” he went to pull out his phone before Kanai furrowed his brows. Draeko was trying his best to clean his face up before he found himself being pulled back almost frozen into a prequel. “H’HGXNF!” It escaped him despite clasping his open palm over his maw.

Before Al could get the camera rolling, the hell hound tossed a couch pillow at the device knocking it across the room. “Hey!” Al yelled out with disappointment and frustration, Nai could only shake his head.

“N-NO, Donnie! H’h…” by this point, the hound’s eyes were uncontrollably pouring with tears, his nose dripping as he tried to keep up with the amount of drippage by rubbing his nose across his hand.

“But…you guys are shirtless…and sneezing…! At least let me…” reaching toward his belt buckle Draeko now managed to cry out between struggling.

“No Al!” The demon frowned and stood there before tossing his arms up. “Well.. what the fuck!”

“Ehh’GxxTCHH’iew! H’GXTSH’UE! HihhhTSH!” The continued secession of kitten like sneezes were driving Al straight into madness as he fell to his knees and clawed at the carpet below.

“Please!! Just…let me do something!” His head quickly snapping back and forth between the two. This sudden gift, feeling a lot more like a punishment now. This was absurd! No filming? No touching? No fucking?! The two of his house mates and sexual partners/best friends continued to blow sneeze after sneeze with bushels of clouds of misted saliva rolling past his crimson eyes. This was a CRIME! “No seriously, what the fuck!” He shouted again with disdain.

“Hh’KTisshh’yuu! S-Sorry..Al..bu..Huh’GXXTsh’IIEW!” Kanai sneezed into his open palms, his hands now feeling much warmer from the fresh spray, but then suddenly cold as he lowered them to the rest of the surrounding air. Soaked on both sides. “Ju-jus..t pick a w-winner..HIh’KSHHh’hiew!!” The spice burned as it came shooting out from their nostrils in each series of fits. Both Draeko and Kanai were starting to feel like maybe this prank was a little under considered through Kanai’s specific lense of understanding. This was sort of a disaster. Why did Drae agree to this? Sure Al was suffering clearly as he sobbed and ripped at the fabric of the floor, foaming from the mouth. However, they also were suffering greatly.

Each time they sneezed, it felt like a thousand needles shooting from their brains, their noses dripped, and eyes watered without break. At this point they were 90% swollen and it felt more or less like they’d been attacked by a swarm of bees. This was a complete failure in most senses of the word. This did not turn exactly how Kanai wanted but he was satisfied to see his best friend weeping on the floor practically throwing a fit.

“Just let me…just let me at least catch the debris…?” Alistar whimpered pathetically reaching outward with a grasping hand.

“N-No…Al,” Draeko’s glassy eyes looked quickly over from the pleasing red head to his Navy haired partner in crime. Winking playfully toward him to signify he was still remaining steadfast in his decision to deny Al anything. Kanai nodded in return. “Hh’NDKT!ih!” Draeko pinched the bridge of his nose and exploded into his other hand before another crept up to follow “Hihh’GXTSH!” Alistar bit his lower lip and whimpered loudly, sadly shaking his head back and forth as his eyes switched between Draeko sneezing and Kanai hitching and hawing.

“So…so..far Drae, is uh…is uh…winning?” The crimson eyed demon tried to remain impartial, tried to swallow the growing need inside his pants but he couldn’t. Jeans suddenly much tighter than they were when he walked in, and he just wanted one of them to say yes.

“O-oh..Hih…n-o…H’KTSHh’iew!” The hound made disappointed eye contact with the other hellion, tears streaming downward his otherwise emotionless and swollen face. Al almost felt a small tinge of guilt for having said what he did just now. Would it effect his chances?

“W-Wait no…Kanai..is?” Alistar looked helpless, like his first born was dangling off a cliff and if he made the wrong move, poof, there would go baby, cradle and all. He was on his knees, body slumped and defeated, a dog begging for a bone.

Kanai would feel accomplished if he wasn’t feeling pretty defeated himself with a face stuffed full of pepper dust. This was probably the worst plan he’d ever had. They should have done this with something more controlled, because neither he nor Draeko, we’re certain they’d ever escape this. “HEH’Kkssshuuh! Hh’KSH! D-Don’t try to buUhUh-.. tter me up!” The hound snorted with offense as he fought off the sneeze long enough to speak. Alistar folded his arms across his chest and sat criss cross, almost like a pouting child.

“Well…Uncle Fucking Christ! I hate this game!” Snorting angrily through his nostrils as he glared at the two shirtless traitors. How dare they? How dare they do this in THEIR SHARED HOME, knowing damn well they’re doing his FAVORITE thing and he can’t even PLAY? What the fuck? “Did I die? Is this my hell? Did my dad kidnap me again?” He asked seriously now.

“N-No! Th-this is Hh’NDKT! KSS’SHU! Payback!” Draeko shouted with a sneezy snicker wishing he could gloat a bit better but was unfortunately too busy wiping his face and trying to free himself of this terrible plan now. Kanai, however, feeling a bit snubbed of his personal call out and victory, still managed a mischevious grin across his face. One Al knew all too well, the only emotion Nai ever showed in hell. His prank grin. That FUCKER.

“You son of a bitch!” Alistar shouted pointed an accusatory finger at the hissing and hucking hound. “You did this on purpose?!” Kanai grinned harder, before his sensitive sinuses betrayed him once more.

“I-HH’Ktissh! Eh’Khgsshuuh! Did, yes,” Wiping his nose yet again across his already soiled hand, not doing himself any favors really, and Al shook his head.

“That’s really fucked up…so I can’t fuck either of you?” Alistar looked between the two of them, his head stayed pointed to face Kanai, but his eyes each ghosted back and forth to examine any sliver of an in.

Both of them shook their heads as they each now grabbed their disguarded shirts to blow their noses, wipe their faces and relieve themselves of the peppery disease that tormented them.

“Wow…IS THIS CAUSE OF THE SNIPE HUNT?” The demon raised his voice with the sudden realization of the most recent act he had pulled against his best friend.

“Ye-s….hEh’KgTSs! Snnddfff it is,” the hound snuffled loudly, rubbing his nose in circles against the fabric of his tshirt.

“WOOOOOOOOW, man, it wasn’t that serious!” The redhead tried to plead his case throwing his hands up with disbelief.

“Four hours, Al, I was…SNDF..out there for FOUR hours,” the grey haired demon narrowed his eyes with slight irritation that this detail was being blown over.

“….That’s NOT my fault,” the ruby orbed menace squinted and his gaze shifted to the side avoiding eye contact now.

“How?” Kanai asked flatly, still staring directly at the avoidant hellion.

“I thought you would figure it out in like….twenty minutes tops,” Still avoiding the other’s stern and ice cold gaze, he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes in a casual way.

“Four hours, snndff,” the hound sniffled again, softer, as he stared blankly ahead at his target.

“SnDFf..” Draeko snuffed, doing the same as Kanai, clearing his nose with the fabric of his tee.

“Okay, hear me out…I’ll buy dinner..and take you to that boring ass dead people drawing showcase place….” Al now forced himself to look at the other, blushing lightly as he willed his way to try and bargain with the hound.

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art,” Kanai interrupted to correct him.

“Yeah that, I’ll take you there tomorrow….ifyouletmesmash….” Trailing off at the end of his sentence with a conniving grin, his ruby reds squinted with mischief and hope.

“….” Kanai paused…silent for far longer than a man earlier determined to make the redhead suffer should. Draeko’s duo colored eyes shifted to look at the hound. They squinted.

“Don’t do it Nai…sssnnnnddfffff…HICK…” Draeko tried to interject, clearing his nose as best he could to speak clearly, hoping to talk sense into his tall companion.

“…..Come on buddy…..” Al squinted harder, grinning wider as he could tell the hound was getting closer to his breaking point.

“…..” Kanai hesitated longer, really considering the deal in front of him. Was it worth it? Dinner…and the Museum he’d been asking everyone to go with him for weeks…

“Nai….” Draeko pitched in one more time hoping to snap the hellion out of his innate urges to always choose knowledge. History. Human information.

“Okay,” The demon broke, he couldn’t resist the offer, TOMORROW? Worth it. He’d make them go right now if it wasn’t far too late in the evening for that. Draeko sighed, slapping his palm to his sweaty forehead.

“YES! LETS GO BOYS! Both of you. Bedroom. Now.” Alistar shot to his feet in one fluid motion, pumping his arms up in victory before shooting a single index between the two men.

“What the fuck, Nai?” The mint and pink haired mutt looked over at the larger with disbelief. Seriously? This whole thing was for nothing. All they did was get the demon riled up to defile them now. In the end, the damn red head wins again!

“Let’s be honest, Luciftias…it was always going to end here anyway,” Kanai shrugs his shoulders matter of factly, his face flat again, emotionless but inside jumping for joy knowing that tomorrow would be a full day of immersive learning.

“….I suppose you’re right….” The hybrid sighed with defeat, shaking his head back and forth as the two of them followed their insatiable partner into his bedroom, once again, to give into his desires.

The End

Author’s Notes: Huehuehuehue Okay I’m sorry it’s less sexy and more funny/chaotic but like it flowed so well and I literally wrote this in 8 hours. It’s also easily my FAVORITE fic I’ve ever written. Which is the first fic I’ve been able to crank out in such amount of time. 🥹 I was so INSPIRED! Plus I got to Whump Al and it felt so good. SUFFER 😈😈😈 But unfortunately I just love the idea that Kanai can’t resist the Museum of Art 🤣 Hope you guys enjoyed! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 (Feedback is super recommended cause I’m pretty sure the validation is what’s got me flowing again 🫨🫣)

[notinmyvocab]

literally no one really asked for this but @c-nv-s07 commented on a post I made mentioning a wentworth fic so here's a snippet because I'm actually really excited to share it and that's all the encouragement I need!

The sound of scraping filled the otherwise quiet Los Angeles night in the Murder House, so named because of the crimes committed over the decades. Metal was dragged again and again, seeking purchase and finding nothing, reminiscent of a shovel searching for a grave. It was the most devastating sound Isabel had ever heard.

The ice cream pint was empty.

Heartbroken, she reached for the can of whipped cream and filled her mouth with a generous dollop.

“Why are you still awake?”

Mouth full of whipped cream, Isabel looked over at her matronly, accusing housekeeper, Moira. She swallowed. “I should ask you the same thing.”

“No rest for the wicked, dear.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Isabel, filling her mouth once more with whipped cream.

Moira shook her head, vaguely amused. “You have a phone call, by the way.” She held up the house phone, displaying it.

Again, Isabel swallowed the mouthful of whipped cream. “And they have the right number?”

“I double checked.” Moira handed over the house phone over to Isabel.

Isabel couldn’t imagine who would be calling her at such an hour. Shouldn’t they be asleep? “Hello?”

“Isabel?”

Isabel immediately straightened up. “Vera!”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t be! I was uh, actually already awake.”

“Isn’t it four in the morning in Los Angeles right now?”

Isabel looked over at the clock, which did indeed read 4:00 AM. “Um yeah, yeah it is.”

“…Right. Anyway… I’m really sorry about this. I feel, well really I feel ridiculous asking. But do you remember what you said?”

The problem with that question was Isabel said a lot of things. “Don’t suppose you could be a bit more specific?” No, think. What had she said to Vera the last time they saw each other?

“You said if I needed anything—“

“I’ll come running.” Yes, Isabel remembered now. Vera had been so nice to her when they first met, and helped her so much when she wrote her last book; literally answered every single question she had, no matter how annoying (and Isabel imagined that it got to be very annoying).

“Did you… did you mean it?”

The question almost made Isabel laugh. “Vera, you’re probably my best friend in the whole world. Ow!” Isabel whipped around to see her brother saunter into the living room, having apparently heard her best friend comment. He stuck at his tongue, and Isabel mirrored him.

“Isabel, are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a poltergeist. Anyway, you’re probably my best friend, of course I meant it. Just tell me what you need.”

“It’s a big ask.”

“Ask me anyway.”

Isabel listened to Vera take a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. “My mother…” Vera started slowly. “My mother isn’t doing well. And… And I know it isn’t fair to ask you.”

Despite Vera not even properly asking anything yet, Isabel motioned for Moira to grab her laptop for her. The housekeeper did her duty, and Isabel got online.

“I thought I was managing fine on my own,” Vera continued. Her voice wobbled; stupid woman, why wasn’t she stronger? “But I just… No, forget it.” She couldn’t ask Isabel to drop everything and just come to Australia from Los Angeles. That was insane! Even best friends had their limits, right?

There was a pause. Vera checked her phone to see if Isabel hung up. No, she was still on the line. “Isabel?”

Another moment of silence, and then, “One-way ticket on a red eye from LA to Melbourne, all booked.”

Flabbergasted, Vera stammered. “You… no, I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have even brought it up!”

“Too late, already done, tickets nonrefundable,” Isabel replied in a teasing singsong voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a flight to catch in a few hours. See you soon?”

Vera chewed on the inside of her cheek. It felt almost too good to be true: a friend who dropped everything because she hinted at her mother’s health declining. She wanted to pinch herself; wake herself up from this dream. She wanted to cry, feeling weirdly relieved by it all. She wasn’t going to be alone. Isabel really was coming to Australia; Isabel was willing to travel across the ocean.

“Vera?”

“Yeah, yes,” Vera replied. “I’ll see you soon.”

Isabel hung up and set the phone aside. “Well, looks like I’m going to Australia,” she told Moira, seeing that her brother had vanished. Typical. He had a habit of coming and going as he pleased, never sticking around for too long.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Moira asked.

The smile slowly fell from Isabel’s face. “You know I can’t answer that.” It didn’t matter if she had a plan to only stay a week or two weeks or a year. Something was bound to happen; something always happened.

“Then at least do me one favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Try and stay out of trouble. For once.”

“No promises.”

[disasterbuck]

Buddie one-shot

Just a little something I dreamt about last night and decided to dump into a sort-of fic. It’s not edited or anything, I just knew if I didn’t get it written now I never would. Enjoy!

An old friend of Buck’s shows up and says he used to have a crush on him, resulting in Buck realising he’s in love with Eddie.

Just under 1500 words

---

A roommate from Buck's past shows up to be like "I had a crush on you back then and I think it's fate that we've met again." Buck is like whoa. idk if I'm interested in guys? The roommate says it's okay but wants to try going on a date maybe?

Buck brings it up with Eddie and Chim at the fire house, asking for advice and subconsciously wanting Eddie to tell him not to do it. But he's not sure why.

"So my old roommate showed up and he likes me. And he asked me out on a date."

"Are you gonna do it?" Chimney asks.

"I don't know. Do you think I should? I don't know if I like him like that... I don't even know if I like guys." And he's looking at Eddie for help but Eddie suddenly seems shut down and colder than usual.

"Do whatever you want," Eddie says with a shrug.

Buck is so confused about his life right now so he says yes.

They go on a date and have a good time catching up and stuff, but then at the end the guy kisses Buck and although he tries to let it happen, Buck finds it way too weird and pushes him back.

"I'm sorry, I thought I could... I just... I'm sorry."

Because as soon as the guy was leaning in to kiss him all he could think about was Eddie. And now he's like, holy shit I have a crush on Eddie. A crush? No. I think I'm in love with Eddie. Holy shit I'm in love with Eddie.

So he leaves the date and his friend who is a little sad but understanding. He drives to Eddie's house and rings the doorbell instead of just letting himself in because he feels really awkward and unsure of anything.

Eddie answers the door and Buck sees his face go from open to closed real fast.

"I thought you had a date?"

"I did."

Buck doesn't even know what to say. He doesn't want to ruin anything and Eddie is the best friend he's ever had.

"You know what? Never mind." Eddie panics and starts walking back to his car. He doesn't want to do this anymore. He's terrified.

"What? Wait." Eddie steps out of the doorway after him. "Buck, stop! What's going on?"

Buck can't say no to Eddie so he stops walking and half turns back to face him, mixed emotions all over his face. Eddie's expression is no longer closed off but open and concerned. He steps closer and puts a hand on Buck's shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Confused, desperate for someone to understand him, Buck gives in to a primal urge and opts for the show-don't-tell method. He cups Eddie's face in his hands and leans in to kiss him, pressing their mouths together in a way that makes him go weak at the knees. How has he been around Eddie for so long and never done this before?

But then Eddie gasps against him and he panics again. Buck wrenches back, guilt shooting through him like a lightning bolt.

"I'm so sorry," he says, backing away and almost tripping over his feet. "I don't want... I never meant to ruin our friendship."

He runs for his car, adrenaline coursing through his entire body, and ignores Eddie's voice as he calls after him.

Eddie's hands are tingling as he stares after Buck.

"Buck, wait!" he says, taking a few steps forward before looking back over his shoulder to the open doorway, thinking of Christopher and knowing he can't just run off right now because he has his son to worry about. "Evan!"

But Buck doesn't stop and Eddie is left standing there as his best friend's car disappears down the street and out of view.

He makes his way back inside and notices Christopher standing just inside the door, watching.

"Was that Buck?" Christopher asks.

"Yeah," Eddie replies, heart pounding in his chest. He wonders how much Christopher saw.

"He didn't wanna come in?" Christopher asks.

"Um, no," Eddie says, looking over his shoulder again at the empty street before closing the door. "He had something else he had to do."

~

When Buck gets home his entire body is thrumming with energy. He's made a mistake. He's sure of it. He's ruined his friendship with the one person he loves more than anyone else in the world.

His life is going to change now. He's going to be lonely. Shifts at the station are going to be painfully awkward – he might have to request a transfer and start all over with a different team somewhere.

He can feel cracks widening within him. If he's not careful, he's going to break and there won't be anyone around to help him this time.

Maddie. He thinks frantically of Maddie and all the times she swore she'd be there for him. He thinks of calling her, asking for her to come over, but she has a family now. She's with Chimney and their daughter. He doesn't want to pull her away from that, not when she's finally found happiness.

What he really wants is Eddie. But he's screwed that up now. A small whimper escapes him as he wonders if he'll ever be able to hang out with Christopher again. The boy was like a son to him, and now- now-

He doesn't know how he got there or how long it's been, but Buck slowly becomes aware that he's sitting on the floor of his kitchen. He feels light headed. He really should call someone. Maybe Bobby? No, Bobby's on his honeymoon.

Then he thinks of his friend again. The friend who showed up and said he had a crush on him. The friend he went on a date with at the start of the night. It would be heartless and awful, but maybe Buck could call him? Ask him if he's up for some meaningless sex? It's all he can think of that's guaranteed to get him out of his head for a bit.

But he swore he wasn't going to be that person anymore!

He has his phone in his hand, staring blankly at the screen.

And then there's a knock on the door.

"Buck?"

It's Eddie.

A key turns in the lock. The door opens and Buck is still sitting on the floor of his kitchen, hands fisted to try and keep himself together.

"Buck?" Eddie's voice again, searching for him.

He should speak up and tell Eddie to leave. But he can't.

"There you are," Eddie says, sounding relieved as he rounds the kitchen counter and looks down at Buck. "What are you doing on the floor?"

Buck lifts his head, looks at Eddie with all the raw pain and fear in his eyes.

"Buck," Eddie repeats softly, dropping to the floor beside him and pulling him into a hug.

It takes a minute, but the warmth from the hug brings some life back to Buck. Eddie's strong arms are enough to hold him together and stop feeling like he's about to crack open.

But he's confused. He doesn't understand why Eddie's here, why he's not mad.

"I'm sorry," he says into Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie pulls back, hands on Buck's shoulders so he can look him in the eyes.

"Evan," he says, the word sending a spark down Buck's spine. "I've been in love with you for over a year."

It doesn't make sense, but it does.

Buck grabs Eddie's chin and pulls him close, testing the boundaries. Their lips fit together again and Buck's glad he's already sitting on the floor because wow. But this time Eddie is kissing him in reply and it's better than anything he could have imagined. It's better than any kiss he's had in the past because this time it's with his best friend and he's so happy he feels like he could cry.

"Wait, wait," Buck says suddenly, pushing Eddie back. "Where's Christopher?"

And the look in Eddie's eyes is so fond he wishes he could wrap it up and put it in his pocket to keep forever.

"He's fine," Eddie promises. "I asked Carla to come watch him. I told her it was an emergency."

"An emergency?" Buck chuckles and feels a blush rise on his cheeks. They share a smile, already smiling together over the night's earlier events.

"Buck," Eddie says softly, brushing his thumb against the hint of stubble on Buck's chin. "Come home with me."

And Buck takes his hand, stands, and follows him home.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Father of Mine – 1/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is. 

Word Count: 4,000+

Warnings: Family death, cancer, absent father, cremation 

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t. 

“Do you want to say anything before we…” the operator asked her.

“No,” Y/N answered quickly.

“Oh, my assistant forgot to give you this,” the operator gave her a shy smile as he handed her a small cardboard box.

She opened it to find all of her mother’s jewelry that had been on her body at the funeral.

“Thank you,” Y/N told him.

“Ready?” The operator asked.

He had been so kind throughout the whole process. It was obvious he was used to people breaking down and being extremely emotional. 

But Y/N had been stoic, almost concerningly so. 

Though he wasn’t one to judge. Everyone grieved differently.

With the pull of a handle, Y/N watched her mother’s body going into the chamber.

“It will be a few hours,” the operator told her.

He meant it will it will take a few hours for her mother’s body to burn to ash. Then they would hand her a tacky vase with her remains.

Y/N just nodded. “I’ll go for a walk.”

As soon as she was outside, Y/N called her mother’s executor.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I was just about to call you.”

“I’m at the crematory,” she told him. “I figured we should discuss the bills that still need to be paid for.”

“Yes, of course. As I mentioned to you before, your mother’s life insurance covers quite a lot of it…” his words died out.

“But it’s still not enough,” Y/N finished for him. “I’ll get the money.”

She wasn’t exactly rich, but she also wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck. But people never realized how much money it cost for loved ones to die. It was honestly ridiculous.

“You might want to consider taking out a loan,” he tried to suggest gently.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Another thing, Ms. Y/L/N. There was an envelope with a name on it. And your mother left instructions on delivering the envelope to them.”

She stopped her pacing. 

“What name is on the envelope?” Y/N asked.

There was a pause.

“Bruce Wayne.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed.

Of course she knew who Bruce Wayne was – everyone in Gotham did, as well as most of the country. He was a billionaire playboy, only making headlines when he was a mess. But every once in awhile his philanthropy would sneak in there. Y/N always assumed those were only to help recover his image and not because he was a good person.

“You still there?” The executor asked.

“Yeah. I’m just a bit confused. But please pass it along to him, if that’s what my mom wanted.”

“I can’t. The instructions specifically say for you to deliver the envelop to him in person.”

“In person?” Y/N groaned in annoyance as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Why did all of this have to be so god damn complicated?

“Yes. Her instructions are…oddly specific."

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll pick up everything from your office before the work day ends.”

——————

Y/N stared at the envelop that she’d tossed on her coffee table as she sipped a rather large glass of red wine.

She was wracking her brain trying to think of a time when her mom mentioned knowing Bruce Wayne. But Y/N would’ve remembered her mom saying his name – even in passing. It’s not a name that one can drop casually.

Y/N pulled up her phone and googled him. But she looked at his history. Yes, he was from Gotham, as was her mom, but so were 10 million other people.

But then Y/N’s scrolling paused when she realized they went to the same high school: Gotham Academy. Not only that, they graduated in the same year.

‘Were they friends?’ Y/N wondered.

But just classmates or friends still didn’t seem to warrant a handwritten letter to be delivered after one’s death.

Y/N didn’t open the envelope.

Her mother’s instructions specifically told her not to. And if she put in that much of an effort to get this done after her death, Y/N wasn’t going to ignore such a request.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious.

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed before throwing back the rest of her wine.

——————

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t grant you access to the building without your name being in the system by the company you’re visiting,” the building receptionist told her for the third time.

“I understand. But I called his office 30 fucking times and they refuse to put me through to him or get me an appointment,” Y/N practically growled.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I already called their office to say you were here and they didn’t recognize your name. I can’t let you through to the elevators.”

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the security guard who stood a few feet away. He was eyeing her now that there was clearly an argument going on.

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes. She had a good foot on him – even without her heels on. And he looked like he couldn’t run a 50 yard dash without passing out or vomiting. If he thought he was going to physically stop her, he had another thing coming.

“Listen, I am not some crazy fucking stalker. My mom knew Bruce Wayne and in her will she asked me to deliver this to him,” Y/N’s voice lowered and became disturbingly calm. “I don’t want to be here just as much as you don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the security guard finally stepped forward.

“Oh, fuck off,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the rent-a-cop.

“Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” he continued.

“Call me ma’am one more fucking time…” Y/N growled.

But the security guard was taking a step to her.

“Excuse me. What seems to be the problem here?” A voice suddenly interrupted.

Everyone turned to see a young man – younger than Y/N – glaring at the security guard just as he was about to grab Y/N.

“M-Mr. Drake, we were just escorting this young woman from the premises,” the guard stuttered out.

Everyone at the building knew every member of the Wayne family. But unlike his siblings, Tim Drake was at the office almost every day. As one should be when they’re the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

“For what reason?” Tim Drake asked.

“She insists on seeing Mr. Wayne. But she doesn’t have an appointment. For security reasons, I cannot let her through, obviously, unless the company she is visiting has put her into their system and the building’s system,” the receptionist explained nervously.

Y/N frowned as if she was bored of the whole thing.

Tim stepped forward. “May I ask what your business with Bruce Wayne is?”

Now that he was closer, Y/N noticed how exhausted he looked. He was handsome still, of course. But she wondered when he last got a good night’s sleep. He was shorter than her, probably standing at 5’5. And she still believed he was younger than her, which was wild seeing as he was already the CEO and couldn’t be older than 24.

Y/N sighed before she grabbed the envelope from her black leather satchel, and showed that Bruce Wayne’s name was handwritten on it.

“My mother wished me to personally deliver this to him.”

Tim tilted his head slightly. “Why isn’t she doing it?”

“Because she’s dead,” she shot back without emotion.

But Tim’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve assumed…”

“It’s fine,” Y/N quickly cut him off before he could continue.

She was so tired of being on the receiving end of people’s sympathy. It didn’t help. And the words stopped holding any meaning to her.

“But I’m sorry. Bruce isn’t in today. And he probably won’t be coming to the office for the rest of the week.”

“Oh,” was all she responded with.

Of course Bruce Wayne didn’t come to work. Why would he?

This was a stupid idea. And now she had made a scene because of it.

“But if you give me your information, I will personally let him know that you are trying to reach him.”

“Really?” Y/N asked in shock.

Tim smiled at her surprise. “Of course.”

“Here’s my card,” she quickly grabbed one from her wallet and then a pen. “All my info is on that.” She wrote something on the back. “And that’s my mom’s name.”

He took it from her and nodded. “What was your mother’s relationship with Bruce?”

Y/N shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to figure it out. Apparently they graduated in the same high school class. But that’s all I was able to find.”

He nodded.

“Thank you…Mr. Drake. For your help. Really,” she urged.

“Please, it’s just Tim.” Then he glared at the receptionist and security guard. “For you it is, at least.”

“Thank you again,” Y/N felt like saying it 30 more times still wouldn’t be enough.

“You don’t have to thank me. Someone will be in touch. Have a good day, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” she corrected with a smile before she nodded and started backing away.

He smiled at her correction and gave a final nod.

——————

Y/N didn’t expect to hear from anyone for at least a week.

If the Wayne family was one thing, it was busy.

They probably had parties to go to, meetings to attend, private jets taking them around the world whenever they wished.

Why would they ever prioritize a meeting with her, a stranger?

So imagine her surprise when she received a call from an unrecognized number the same day she gave Tim Drake her card.

“Hello?” She answered.

Usually she would let any unknown number go to voicemail.

“Hello,” a British voice answered. “Am I speaking with Ms. Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“This is she,” Y/N sat up straighter on her couch.

“This is Alfred Pennyworth. I work for Master Wayne and manage all his personal appointments. I was told by Master Tim that you wished to meet with him?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes, I do. Is that…is that possible?”

“Would you be able to stop by Wayne Manor on Friday afternoon?”

Y/N already knew she had nothing going on that would stop her from getting this done. But she still paused to pretend to think about it.

“Yes, Friday afternoon should be fine. Are you sure he doesn’t just want me to stop by Wayne Enterprises?”

It felt oddly intimate to stop by Wayne Manor. Wouldn’t they want to meet her in a more secure location like a corporate building with security that already hated her?

“He is quite certain. Should I send a car for you Ms. Y/L/N?”

A car?

Y/N felt even more out of her depth now.

“Oh, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thanks,” she answered before hanging up and realizing that probably wasn’t the proper response to such a polite goodbye.

——————

“I haven’t heard that name since high school,” Bruce had muttered as he stared at the business card for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Yes, and the end of your relationship did not end on the best of terms,” Alfred commented.

Y/M’s/N Y/L/N had been Bruce’s high school sweetheart.

An she had seen the last moments of Bruce’s normal life. 

Upon graduation, Bruce decided to leave Gotham and that’s how his second life was founded. The two of them broke up before the summer after graduation had even ended.

Well, “Breakup” was a strong word.

Bruce stopped answering her calls.

She was his first love and he continued to love her.

But once Bruce realized where his life was going and who he wanted to be, he knew he couldn’t drag her into it. She deserved better.

And Bruce was a coward about relationships then. Maybe he still was.

“I am certain you did a thorough background check on her already,” Alfred commented with a smirk.

Bruce took in a breath before listing off all of her accomplishments. “Y/F/N Y/L/N. Graduated number one in her class at Gotham Academy. She was the star of the track team, breaking the regional record for fastest time in 100m, 200m, and 400m races. Also captain of her soccer team. Attended NYU’s photography program before dropping out after a year. Now she’s a professional photography. Her work’s been featured in Vogue, New York Times, National Geographic…amongst others.”

“Rather an impressive woman,” Alfred said.

Bruce nodded.

“I should get the tea and coffee ready for her arrival.” And with that, Alfred left Bruce in the drawing room.

30 minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Bruce glanced down at his watch: she was right on time.

He heard Alfred saying his pleasantries before he heard the clicking of her heels as she rounded the corner to enter the room he was waiting in.

For being a famous photographer, she could’ve been a runway model with her height and the way she walked into the room, completely owning it. She wore four-inch heels, only adding to her natural tallness. And her bright, red coat only added to her presence.

For a split second, Bruce was convinced that he was looking at an Amazon. Diana immediately flashed into his mind for a split second. Perhaps that was what Y/M’s/N needed help with: to get her daughter to her real people. But how would she have known Bruce Wayne had such connections? Unless she knew Batman’s true identity…

As soon as Y/N spotted him in the room, he rose from his seat.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Bruce greeted.

He took a step forward and held out his hand.

“You guys really love the formalities.” She said it with a dark evenness, but it was clearly a joke. “Y/N is fine, Mr. Wayne,” she added as she shook his hand.

“In that case, it’s Bruce,” he countered with a soft smirk.

There was something so familiar about her. But Bruce knew they’d never met. 

“Thank you for seeing me. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time,” Y/N quickly got to it. She opened her purse to grab the envelope.

“My mom wanted you to have this. And she wanted to make sure I was the one to give it to you,” Y/N explained as she offered it to him.

Bruce took it carefully, but didn’t open it. “Yes, I heard about her passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she said hurriedly, making it obvious to Bruce that she did not want nor need his condolences.

Bruce nodded slowly.

There was a pause.

“Do you know what it says?” He asked her lightly.

She shook her head. “I wasn’t supposed to read it.”

“I see.”

“I should really be going. I have a flight to catch later tonight.” Most people that visited Wayne Manor wished to stay there forever. Or their curiosity got the best of them and their eyes took in every little detail.

But Y/N looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. And she wanted to get out as soon as she possibly could.

“Thank you again for seeing me,” she rushed out.

Without waiting for his answer, Y/N turned and started walking out of the room.

But she only got a few steps before she stopped.

Bruce watched her shoulders tense and her body move as she was clearly taking in deep breath.

Slowly, Y/N turned around to face him.

“Were you friends?”

Bruce gave her a watery smile. “She was my girlfriend in high school.”

Y/N seemed annoyed by that answer. “She never mentioned you. Not once.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed at that and his eyes zoned out as if he was revising the past in his mind. “I’m not entirely surprised. Things didn’t really end well between us.”

She nodded slowly. “Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

And Y/N turned and strutted out of the room without looking back.

As soon as Bruce heard her cab drive away, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter.

He barely noticed that Dick had walked into the room. “May I ask…Who was the extremely attractive and tall woman that just walked out?”

But Bruce didn’t hear him as his eyes raced across the letter. His heart sped as he continued reading.

“Bruce?” Dick asked after being ignored. “Is she your next conquest or what?”

It wasn’t until Bruce was done reading the letter for the third time that he finally looked up and acknowledged Dick.

Alfred had also walked into the room, unbeknownst to Bruce.

“You OK?” Dick asked, now concerned with how silent Bruce had become.

“Master Wayne?” Alfred also urged.

“That was…my daughter,” Bruce finally muttered.

Dick blinked before his eyes grew wide in shock.

Alfred seemed less surprised, almost as if he had already put that together.

“Excuse me,” Bruce told them and exited the room.

———

Dick and Alfred must’ve warned the rest of the family not to bother Bruce in the cave. Usually he would’ve been disturbed by now.

Bruce had been at the computer for hours.

Alfred was the first person to come down, carrying a tray with dinner and tea.

The butler wasn’t surprised to find Y/N’s face all over the screens.

If Bruce had left any available information hidden before inviting Y/N to the manor, it was all out there now. Bruce knew everything about Y/F/N Y/L/N that was public knowledge – probably even some things that were not.

“You know, you did not seem all that surprised,” Bruce said to Alfred as he put the tray of food down next to him.

“Seemed rather obvious, didn’t it?”

Bruce quickly turned to look at him. “It did?”

Alfred smirked. “Her eyes,” was all he said.

“The color?”

Alfred shook his head. “As soon as she walked into the manor, they were reading me.” He tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “Observation. Perception. Attention to detail...That is all you, Master Wayne.”

“The way she held herself,” Alfred continued, "Shoulders held back, head high, walking with purpose. No hesitation.”

“Also me?” Bruce asked.

Alfred simply nodded.  

“I don’t think she liked me very much,” Bruce sighed.

He didn’t know how he felt about that yet.

“A lot of people think you don’t like them when you first meet them,” Alfred countered. “Because I don’t trust them yet.”

Alfred raised his brows and silently ask him, ‘Don’t you see my point?’

Bruce rubbed his face and reached for the tea on the tray, ignoring all the food.

“I don’t know why you’re so entertained by this, Alfred.”

“Yes, I was entertained. I just saw a younger, female version of you, Master Wayne.”

“I abandoned her,” Bruce shot.

“You didn’t know she existed,” Alfred corrected.

“And why do you think that is?”

Alfred’s face dropped a little bit when he noticed the envelope discarded on the far end of Bruce’s desktop.

He looked down at the ground as he asked, “Might I ask what the letter said?”

Bruce glared at the letter as if touching it would burn him.

But after a moment, he grabbed it and quickly handed it to Alfred.

Bruce,

If this letter has finally reached you, it is because I have passed.

I must admit that I wrote this letter mostly in the event that I leave my daughter before she is an adult. But once Y/N turned 18, I decided to still pass this along to you.

There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will get to the point.

The young woman who delivered this letter to you is your daughter, Bruce.

Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.

When I found out I was pregnant with her, I was only 18. We had just graduated high school. You had started traveling. You called less and less. And you grew more distant – physically and emotionally. Eventually, you stopped answering my calls altogether. I left you a voicemail, only saying that I so desperately needed to talk to you, that I needed you.

But you never called me back.

With no words at all, you made it very clear that you no longer wanted anything to do with me.

But there I was, a teenager who was pregnant with our child.

I would be lying if I said I never considered terminating my pregnancy. I was scared and you broke my heart. All I wanted to do was erase you from my life.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Once I decided what my future was going to be, I also decided that I did not want you to have any part in it.

I knew even if you pretended to play the doting father and the committed partner, you would grow tired of us eventually. You would resent me and our child for bringing you down. And you would brush us aside for yourself.

I realized I would rather Y/N have no father at all than one who would only disappoint her over and over again.

To this day, I truly believe I did the right thing for all three of us.

There are not enough words to explain the complicated woman that Y/N grew up to be. But I will try my best. I think I owe you that at least. 

Or maybe you have no interest.

I don’t know how she became so much like you, even when I never so much as showed her a picture of you or uttered your name.

She enjoys being alone – almost to her own detriment. I constantly catch her repressing her feelings, always staying strong for everyone else. It reminds me of you. She’s assertive and confident, never letting anything stand in the way of what she wants. Sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything. It worries me, just like it worried me when I thought the same of you.

I truly don’t know what you will do with this information.

But…if you have any desire to form some sort of relationship with her, then you should know this: she will not make it easy for you. She will push you away. And she might even hate you. I raised her to never need a man in her life, and she’ll make sure you know that.

I don’t expect anything from you. I never did.

But I would just like to know there might be someone who will be there for her should she need them.

Goodbye, Bruce.

Alfred slowly handed the letter back to Bruce when he was finished.

“I pushed her away because I knew what I was about to become,” Bruce explained darkly. “And I didn’t want her anywhere near it. She would’ve been in danger.”

“Y/N, as well,” Alfred added.

“But had I known…if I just listened to her–”

“Master Wayne, I thought we had agreed to never linger on the ‘what ifs.’”

That sure silenced Bruce.

“Now, what do you plan on doing, Master Wayne?”

———

Y/N frowned when her phone started vibrating and she recognized the name of her mom’s executor on her phone screen.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, how are you?”

“Fine. How are you?” She was quick, wanting to get this over with. Surely, he had bad news. Another medical bill came in or some other expense that slipped by them.

“Good, good. Just curious…have you placed any payments to our various claims?”

“Uhhh…no. But I’m working on it.”

Y/N hadn’t expected to get a call nagging about paying bills.

“No, no, no. You misunderstand. They’ve all been paid,” the executor explained.

Y/N sat up straighter in her chair. “What? That’s not possible.”

“An anonymous donor. They somehow got record of all your outstanding payments and covered all of them.”

Y/N was stunned to silence.

“Ms. Y/L/N…this is a good thing.”

She blinked and shook her head. “Right. Yes, of course. I just…thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank this guardian angel of yours.”

---------------------

Part 2

Let me know what you think!!!

[tteokdoroki]

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s):  this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere​ ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

[lxvislxdy]

Lock and Key | Bakugou K.

Summary: It all started out as a harmless prank - Denki’s idea, to get the two of you to talk. It was no secret that you had feelings for Bakugou Katsuki, at least, not amongst your friends. Denki had meant well, sure, when he’d handcuffed the two of you together, but when the key goes missing... well, let’s just say, it’s gonna be a long 24 hours.

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x reader

Warning(s): Swearing, that should be it

Notes: Reminder that my requests are open! Let me know what you’d like to see on my page! Hope you enjoy this cute little fic for Bakugou :) I just wanted to write something soft and lighthearted, and cute, so this is that.

You were going to kill Denki. That is, if Bakugou didn’t get to him first.

“Calm down, Bakubro! Murdering one of our classmates would not be very manly of you!”

And if it wasn’t for Kirishima, holding Bakugou back with all of his strength and giving you a sympathetic look as you were dragged along, Denki would’ve been toast. Literally. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” Denki was saying, hiding behind Mina and Sero, “It’s just a prank, dude, a joke! Don’t kill me!” 

“I’m gonna end you, spark plug!” Bakugou growled, “Get over here and get this shit off of me!”

Sero, barely holding back his laughter, said, “Aw, come on, Bakugou, I wouldn’t call y/n ‘shit’!”

For a moment, Bakugou blinks like he’s stunned, but then his murderous glare returns ten fold. “That’s... That’s not even what I meant, dunce face! I meant the handcuffs! Get. Them. OFF!”

You know, from the look Mina is sending you, that you’re blushing. 

“Okay!” Kaminari scrambles out from behind the two, smiling sheepishly as he searches all his pockets, “No worries, man, let me just... let me... get the... key...”

Bakugou finally settles down, and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops his hand, yours falling with it. You rub at your wrist lightly, eyebrows drawn together. You’d been handcuffed to Bakugou for almost ten minutes now, and your wrist was already sore from being yanked around so much. 

“What’s taking so long, dunce face?” Bakugou grumbles.

“Well, you see, uhm... okay, listen, don’t be... don’t be mad, bro, just...” Kaminari laughs, eyes wide in fear, voice dropping so low you could hardly hear him, “I can’t exactly find it.”

You yelp in surprise as Bakugou activates his quirk, feeling the heat against the back of your hand. 

“What did you say?!” 

Everyone winces as he yells, face almost as red as Kirishima’s hair. 

“Careful, dude, don’t burn her!” Kirishima says, hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. 

Bakugou shoves him off, but listens to him nonetheless, and the heat subsides. 

“It’s okay, Kiri, I’m fine.” You tell him quietly. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Denki says, guiltily. 

“Yeah, you’re about to be real sorry.” Bakugou says, “If you don’t get these off in the next five seconds!”

“Look, let’s just calm down for a minute, okay?” You say, stepping between the two. You feel Bakugou’s arm tug back against yours, as you move farther away from him, and your blush deepens. “Sorry. Anyway... why don’t we just see if Momo can make an extra key? Right?"

“That’s a good idea!” Kirishima says, optimistically. “See? Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, why didn’t I think of that?” Kaminari scratches his head.

“Because you’re an idiot.” Bakugou mutters darkly.

Mina purses her lips, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, that would be great... Except Momo is visiting her parents, and won’t be back till later tonight.”

And just like that, Bakugou explodes again. “WHAT?!”

...

After a stressful call with Momo, involving Bakugou taking the phone from Mina not once, but twice, and telling her to ‘get her and her stupid ass ponytail back to UA NOW!’, it’s finally decided that you’ll just have to wait it out. Even Bakugou can’t say he’d rather go to Aizawa, because explaining this meant explaining the handprint shaped burns in Denki’s door.

Of course, Momo promises to help as soon as she’s back, but that’s still hours and hours away. 

Bakugou, who still practically had steam coming out of his ears, sat beside you on the couch silently. Across from you, the rest of the group watched in sympathy (and fear). No one dared to break the silence, in fear he’d blow up on them again. You couldn’t say you blamed them. 

“Come on.” Bakugou’s sudden command startles you.

“What? Where are we going?” You ask, following his lead and standing up (you were getting dragged along, either way). 

He rolls his eyes, sighing, “I don’t know, but I’m not just gonna sit around like an idiot all day.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, marching out of the room. You look over your shoulder on your way out, a silent cry for help, and Denki has the audacity to give you a thumbs up and wink. You glare at him, sending your friends into a laughing fit.

“What are they laughing at?” Bakugou mutters, brow raised.

You flush in embarrassment, shrugging. “Dunno.”

The two of you eventually end up in the kitchen. You knew Bakugou could cook, everyone did because he regularly kicked everyone out of the kitchen so he could, but you’d never actually seen him in action. He was much calmer now that the two of you were alone, but the scowl never left his face. 

After a few minutes of awkwardly trailing behind him as he gathered ingredients, you mustered up the courage to ask, “Can I help?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you begin to think he’ll just ignore you, before he’s handing you a spoon. “You stir while I chop vegetables. I don’t trust you with a knife.”

Ignoring the backhanded comment, you take the spoon from him, happy he’s letting you help. You stir with one hand, resting the other on the counter beside him, so he can use both hands to chop the vegetables. It’s not easy, trying to cook while handcuffed to the angry blonde, but the two of you eventually find a rhythm. 

“So what are you making?” You ask, turning to look at him. His focus is all on what he’s doing, and he looks so serious you try your best not to giggle. Does Bakugou ever just... relax? Still, the way his lower lip just barely juts out and his brow furrows, when he concentrates hard, is really cute.

“We’re making zosui.” 

You’re heart does a little flip as he says ‘we’. He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know that, but you still have to turn away in an attempt to hide your smile. As mad as you were at Denki, you had to admit that being able to actually spend time with Bakugou doing something so... normal, domestic? It was nice. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about a moment like this (except, in your daydreams, you weren’t handcuffed, and maybe there was kissing involved), but you’d never thought it would actually happen. The only time you got to spend time with him outside of class, normally, was if you asked for help with the homework or agreed to spar. But that was rare, these days. Bakugou normally sparred with Kirishima, anyway, and you always felt like a bother when you asked for help. 

Sneaking another look at Bakugou, you find he’s already looking at you. He takes the spoon from you, gently bumping his hip into yours to move you out of the way, and you watch as he adds the veggies to the soup. As he stirs them in, he asks you to hand him the spices he’d set out beforehand. 

“What, have you never seen someone cook before?” He asks.

You laugh sheepishly, “I ate a lot of microwave dinners growing up.”

The look he gives you is incredulous, borderline angry, and he scoffs. “You’re kidding. That shits terrible for you!” 

You laugh, wrinkling your nose. 

He meets your eyes for a moment, lips parted slightly, and you raise a brow at him. Before you can ask, his attentions is back on the soup, and he’s quiet again.

It doesn’t take long for the soup to be done, then, after he adds the rice. And you have to admit, even though you hadn’t helped much, you do feel a sense of accomplishment when you sit down to eat a meal that you made yourself. 

The two of you sit down beside each other, forced to scoot your chairs so close that your thighs are almost touching. Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain.

“Thank you,” You say quietly, before digging in. “Wow! This is delicious!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He rolls his eyes, but you recognize the slightly smug look on his face. “You helped.”

You giggle, bumping shoulders with him. “Sure, but you’re the chef, here!”

He hid it behind another bite of food, but you could have sworn you saw him smile, too. 

The two of you finish your meal in silence, Bakugou waiting with surprising patience for you to finish eating, before putting the bowls in the sink. 

“Thanks.”

He gives you a look, “For what?”

For being so nice.

“For teaching me how to cook!” 

He shrugs, muttering out ‘whatever’ in reply. 

“So... what do you want to do know?” You ask, hoping his tolerance for your company would last. 

You end up back in his dorm, awkwardly huddled together at the head of his bed. He was reading, as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. The silence wasn’t awkward, like you’d thought it would be. It was comfortable, almost calming. You found yourself getting tired, the more you sat there. 

Eventually growing bored of your phone, you turned to see what Bakugou was reading, and started reading the pages yourself. You didn’t think he’d noticed, until he slipped his finger behind the next page to turn it, and paused. 

“You done?” He said, quiet and soft, his cheeks tinted the slightest pink. 

Your eyes widened, blushing, “Uh, yeah. S-Sorry.”

He turned the page without another word, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You tried to ignore him, pretending to read, before he sighed. 

And then, Bakugou began to read to you. 

“W-What are you doing?”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Reading, dumbass.” He snapped. “You read slower than me, it’s annoying.”

Despite the backhanded remark, you grinned. “Oh. Okay.” 

He started again, sounding significantly less irritated, and you tried to slow the beating of your heart. In all the times you’d imagined hanging out with Bakugou, you had never thought of something this sweet. You especially hadn’t anticipated his voice ever being this soft, and calming. 

As he read to you, you shifted closer, eventually resting your head on his shoulder. He faltered for a minute, hiding his fumble with a cough, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the next chapter that he realized you’d fallen asleep. 

And he definitely wasn’t blushing, no, not Bakugou.

Hours later, when Momo and all your friends piled into his room, he whispered harshly, “Wake her up, and I’ll kill you!”

Maybe Denki’s plan had worked out, after all. 

[chiwhorei]

𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐚

✞𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✞

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, Dark Content, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3,175 [Link to Ao3]

Tags: Darkfic, sacrelige, coercion, corruption, dubcon and noncon elements, intonations and parallels to incest, but not actual incest (ie. ‘Father’ Shouta), choking, age-gap, oral, Priest!Aizawa, Virgin!Reader

From Chiwhorei: Aizawa is where this all started, so it’s fitting he is the subject of my anniversary fic. To everyone who’s followed me along this journey despite the long bouts of radio silence, to everyone that’s participated and supported this collab, to all of my lovely, devious friends— truly, completely, thank you for this past year. Xoxo.

The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.

** ** **

There’s not a soul awake this late.

The rosary wrapped between twitching fingers feels like a hot lashing against the skin. The glass and metal itch in your hold, the devotional was a gift for your confirmation-- it holds a decade of sins.

Your family has been asleep for hours now. Slipping through the back door as soon as you’re sure. Nineteen. A legal adult. Yet the only way to leave in the middle of the night is in secret. The cool, summer air hits your cheeks, it’s still for a moment. It’s so quiet, you feel like you’ve mistaken the real world for a snow globe. Static— in the moments after all of the glitter settles, all of the quiet, iridescent tears laying at your feet. It waits, patiently, until someone comes by to shake it again.

Moving into a cramped dorm room a few hours away, your childhood home feels bigger every visit. It’s bigger because nothing fills the space inside. There’s nothing but tense words and the clatter of silverware against dinner plates. Your father reminds you of an old briefcase— stern, rigid leather, unmistakably empty; your mother’s rose garden smells like poisoned wine.

Roses and leather, the combination suffocating enough to repel you in the hours you should be unconscious.

The walk from your parent’s house to the church is the most familiar thing in the world. Down to the cracks on the sidewalk and mossy steps leading up to a set of large, cherry doors. So routine it almost feels good for you.

There’s not a soul awake this late, you decide, that must be why you’re here.

That must be why he’s up too.

Pushing open one ornate door just enough to peek inside, you’re met with that distinct waft of incense and dusty missals. It smells like every Sunday morning and Easter Vigil, it smells like home.

Only votive candles light the space around you, flickering with intentions from fellow parishioners. You wonder if there’s one burning for you.

You know where to find Father Shouta, and suspect he’s waiting. He can trace every step from your parents home to the front gate. You open the confessional booth and crawl inside, the wooden space around you is cramped. It smells like incense masking cigarettes. Kneeling into the leather cushion, you face the screen partition.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was,” the memory has you falter, “three months ago.”

You remember the last hollow confession like it was yesterday. You were back in town for spring break. After mass that Sunday, your dad told Father Shouta how deplorable it was that your friends had tried, in vain, to drag you to the beach a few hours away from campus. “A week of drinking and sex, not for my daughter.”

Shouta met with you that evening and you cried your sins to him. How you had been dared to kiss boys at a party during midterms week, how you drank who-knows-what mixed with cheap beer at a frat house. He consoled you then, he told you that God will forgive all transgressions. “Even the sins of a whore.”

The memory makes you want to cry all over again. Yet, here you are— knees pressed to the very same leather, face against the same dusty screen.

He’s so still, so quiet, you jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice, “What is it that you’d like to confess, my child?”

Your body aches, stiff and tense to the bone. You breathe in, shallow and suffocated, before you speak again.

“Father, forgive me I—” you can tell his posture is just as rigid, he’s only a shadowed outline and the slightest glimmer of color from his eyes. They warn you, but you ignore the familiar feeling on the back of your neck.

“I have been having impure thoughts. I’ve been thinking about a man,” one more deep breath in an attempt to keep your voice neutral, “a much older man.”

If you could hear a smile, Father’s creaks like floorboards.

His silence prompts you to continue, you knot your fingers together and hold them against your stomach, the Rosary tangled in between threatening to cut off circulation.

“The boys in my youth group, the ones in my classes— they’re all nice but,” you leave the second half of the sentence to rattle around in your mind, “but they aren’t you.”

“Impure thoughts are one thing, sinful, but,” his voice is indifferent, cold, “the true sins are ones of the flesh.”

“I- I haven’t,” you start to stutter, trying to defend yourself, “I haven’t done anything, Father.”

Despite himself, he laughs.

“It’s true Father,” you wonder why you hadn’t just stayed at home, “I’ve only ever kissed a boy— it wasn’t even a real kiss. I’m still a virgin.”

From the screen, you can only see him in fragments. Little cutouts of a dark figure and sickeningly bright red eyes. The color peaks through like pieces of a puzzle, chasing through the patterned wood before you can catch that he’s stepping out of his side of the confessional booth.

“It wasn’t a ‘real’ kiss,” each word is mimicked, emphasized by the tap of his shoes against the tiles below, “no, of course it wasn’t. Not with some boy.” Your legs are unsteady as you stand from the kneeler. There’s nowhere to hide, Father has you trapped in a toy box. Just for him to play with.

“Of course that wouldn’t have satisfied you.”

The door to your side of the booth creeks open just as your back hits the wall. You can see his face for the first time in months, you trace the features illuminated with candlelight. Father Shouta’s face is strong, even more sharp with his long, black hair tied back. His presence looms over where you’re sunken into the booth. Even standing and puffing out your chest, he’ll still be able to look down at you.

He bares his teeth. You know this by now, stupid little girl, you know he likes to play with his food.

Long fingers grip the small door frame and curl around the wood like an omen, his body slithers into your personal space until he’s only an inch away.

“Lust, greed, what is it that you want?” Each vowel cradles a hearty dose of poison, the consonants bite away and spit you out. Your skin feels raw under his attention, “You can’t atone for sins you’re not really sorry for.”

Those same fingers slide up either curve of your neck, he crawls from shoulder to jaw, slowly. So slowly it seems like he’s trying not to get caught. He holds steady against your skin, thumb rubbing lightly at your bottom lip. You must have just fallen asleep after your parents went to bed, that stale, poisoned house even lulling the restless. You must be dreaming right now.

“Don’t make me ask again.” His timber hits the three walls and brings you back to the present. There’s no rest for you, only a weak answer to his question. What is it that you want?

“I want to be a humble servant of our Lord.” Your voice shakes, battered against your throat on its way to meet the stiff air.

Father’s lips are on you, he traces the words of Luke over your trembling mouth, there’s only a breath of space between you,

“No one can serve two masters. For you will hate one and love the other; you will be devoted to one and despise the other,”

The hands holding your cheeks move down to circle your neck, each long finger lays a trap. He tightens around the skin, just enough to make you forget how it feels to breathe freely. He could do anything to you right now, and your cries for help would be swallowed by stained glass.

No one can serve two masters.

The scream caught in your throat meets his wicked smile, it fizzles into little more than a whimper. The small booth you’ve been trapped in is burning hot, you feel sweat beading on your forehead. The last ounce of courage, of restraint, tumbles out before you can catch it.

“Who do you serve, Father Shouta? God or the Devil?”

He answers you with a thick tongue finally pushing into your mouth. He smells like perfumed oils and votive candles, he tastes like sugar free gum and Seven Stars.

His grip around your neck is the only thing keeping you on your feet, you’re sure if he were to let go you’d melt into the floor below. Father’s lips against yours are a siren, dulling all other senses, rendering you malleable to his will. Whatever his will may be, whatever it is that he wants from you— you’d let him have it anyway.

He breaks away, the kiss that’s felt like hours disappears far too soon. Your body jolts forward of its own volition, trying to connect yourself to him again. You’re sure you look desperate, but you’re too intoxicated to care.

“I serve only myself.”

Father lets go of your neck and you’re allowed the first deep intake of breath you’ve had since walking into the church. You swallow hard, looking back up to him. He scares you, he always has, but that fear draws you towards him.

Does a moth know what the flame will do to it? Does the moth know their fate?

You feel like crying, really crying, but all that comes out are a few frustrated tears. Father leans over you once more, eyes trailing the tear waxing over your cheek, “You’re a wretched little girl.”

Is that why they fly towards fire, because they like the burn?

** ** **

You step forward in line, it’s almost your turn. Mother first, she’s always thought of Father Aizawa as such a “charming young man''. The notion always made you scoff, in reality he’s only a few years younger than your parents.

Your dad is behind you, he’ll give him a friendly handshake after the service and remark how beautiful the homily was. Today, he spoke of the devil tempting Jesus. You hung on every word.

Mother steps aside and makes the sign of the cross, you’re next. A sheep guided by the dutiful shepherd, a lamb onto his slaughter.

Your chin tilts upwards, eyes locked onto your part-time captor. He only has you for a few seconds this time, but his attention is a hallway— every door is a pitfall. Aizawa’s gaze turns red when he looks upon you again— a bright, bloody, captivating red. You’ve convinced yourself it’s a trick of the light. But you see them in the dark too.

“The Body of Christ,” his voice is a welcome mat in front of an asylum, holding out the wafer and obscuring one painfully beautiful eye.

“Amen.” You know you’re part, but you can’t hear your own voice.

Father watches as your eyes close and your mouth opens, a quiet obedience, nothing at all out of the ordinary. Your fingers tingle with how tight you’re holding them together.

He places the Body to your awaiting tongue. It tastes like a harsh nothing that will stick to the back of your throat for the rest of mass. You take Christ in pieces, letting it start to melt into the roof of your mouth.

Shouta brushes your bottom lip before retracting. It’s subtle, an accident— the smallest touch of chilling skin. No one notices, the earth doesn’t stop on its axis for anyone else. You step aside and follow your Mother back to the wooden pews like nothing out of the ordinary stirs in your heart.

You feel Father’s eyes on the back of your skirt. They feel red.

“Your sweet girl here has offered a helping hand getting prepared for a youth retreat the church is hosting next week.” After mass, the stop to shake Father’s hand is inevitable, a pleasantry every parishioner makes time for before shuffling out for Sunday brunch.

He speaks over your quiet, “Good morning, Father Shouta,” right as your family turns to leave, almost as if he had been mulling over whether or not it was worth a mention. He regards them with a veiled casualty, never once looking at you.

Father’s face is kind when he wants it to be, laying a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades, it's a feeling of comfort you can’t help but lean into, “We’re discussing how to remain chaste in a sinful world.”

The word ‘chaste’ is pinched into your spine and despite yourself, you smile. A heavy heart has found home at the bottom of your stomach, but you can’t let on to the sick churning in your gut. Your parents gleam with pride for their daughter. A perfect example of a good Catholic girl.

“I’ll have her meet at my office this evening, is six okay?” His question sounds like your dowry, talking past you and asking for your parents permission.

Your dad shakes Father Shout’s hand once more, delighted at how his diligent parenting must be the reason you’ve found yourself in holy favor. Said ‘parenting’ is definitely to blame, but not in the way your dad assumes.

*** *** ***

The walk through church and into the sacristy is like a meditation in fear, every step begging you to turn back, to run home like a scared child. You tread steady, feet searing on hot coals until you’re met with the sound of Father Shouta just beyond the threshold.

“You’re late.” Something sinister fills Father’s quarters as soon as you open the door. It’s scary how offhandedly he can lie. You’re at least ten minutes early, the evening toll of church bells will signal the hour. He wants to see if you’ll stutter, if you’ll argue. You stay quiet, busying your hands with the hem of your skirt, fingers lifting it slightly before you remember who owns the eyes sitting across the room. They look golden from here, a honey you could drown in. You cough at the feeling of sugar in your lungs before collecting yourself and awaiting instruction.

Seemingly pleased with your docility, he smiles wide and crooked. It’s bound into a book he will whisper into you page by page. It’s written in a language only he knows.

Shouta motions you farther inside, leaning back in his seat. He corrects you when you move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk, waiting with little patience as you settle against his side instead. Your posture is stiff being this close, being this alone.

His facial hair is trimmed neatly, small scars litter his face, the most pronounced a jagged trail under his right eye. From the dim evening light, you see a shadow of loose hairs make a pointed crown around his head.

“St. Teresa of Avila,” Father starts, tapping his fingers against a small stack of papers, “what do you know of her?”

You’re disarmed, the question seems so innocent-- not a note of ulterior motive detectible. Even so, your guard remains high. His intentions need no subtext.

“St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headache sufferers,” you’re struggling to see the point, but Father prompts you to continue, “she was a Spanish nun, she wrote about a prayerful life,”

After another moment of measured silence, you grow even more tense, “Father Shouta, forgive me, I don’t understand,”

You’re hushed with a laugh, the small collection of papers placed in your hands. The first leaf is titled with large letters, “The Life of Teresa of Jesus.”

“I’d like you to read the section I’ve highlighted.”

You shake, thumbing through until you find a block of text traced in bright yellow. You scan its contents, but are quickly interrupted by Shouta’s next request.

“Out loud.”

There’s no escaping the toy box.

His stare is unwavering, giving you no room for objection. They’re not soft like honey anymore, Father Shouta’s eye’s are harsh, bloody gemstones.

You know better than to keep him waiting, adjusting in your half sat position on the side of his desk, you begin reading with hoarse inflection, “In his hands I saw a long golden spear, and at the end of the iron tip I seemed to see a point of fire. With this he seemed to pierce my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails.”

Wincing, the words sound like a stranger in your ears. After every sentence, Shouta’s fingertips inch closer to the end of your skirt, right above the knee. You’d be stoned for this kind of hemline at home, but with Father it seems to be exactly the sacred skin he wanted to see.

His hands move, unwavering, as you continue with the annotated paragraph, “When he drew it out, I thought he was drawing them out with it and he left me completely afire with a great love of God.” Fingers stop their gentle assault before adding pressure to your inner thigh, he peels apart your legs with a wordless prompting to keep going.

“The pain was so sharp that it made me utter several moans; and so excessive was the sweetness caused me by this intense pain that one can never wish to lose it, nor will one’s soul be content with anything less than God.”

By the last several words, Father Shouta’s lips are centered in between your open thighs, you feel tears frozen in the duct. You want to pull away, to escape, but his lips hold something you’ve never been this close to.

“Piety is a virtue,” you can feel the hot breath against your most intimate planes of flesh, “but our God is one of pleasure too.”

His kiss feels like branding. An aimless, confused lamb seared with the mark of its owner.

You cry out, loud and broken, when his mouth meets the cotton covering your pussy. Shouta uses his pointer and middle finger to move the fabric away.

No one has ever seen these parts of you, kept locked away for your future husband until now, sitting in the heart of your family's church, writhing from even the slightest touch.Hips buck of their own accord, and you’re granted one last open-mouthed lave against your twitching cunt. His tongue peaks out slightly to catch your clit before pulling away.

You move as if possessed, falling to your knees in front of your Father. Your mouth opens, that same quiet obedience, and his finger brushes your lower lip again. “No one” you think, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of fingers wrapped into the back of your hair, “no one can serve two masters.”

“Body and soul, you’re mine.”

But there’s not a soul left in sight.

✞ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞: All writing is chiwhorei’s original content, please do not repost or modify. Do no read my content as asmr. Do not recommend me on TikTok.©️

[thedaredevilsgirl]

Can you do a smut fic about professor tom and y/n is his student and he takes a liking to her and yes smut lol

Dear Teacher

Warnings: reader over 18 (between 19 and 22 years old) teacher-student relationship (please don't get involved with your teachers, this is wrong) Smut (Oral -Fem! Receiving- fingering, thumb sucking?? doggy style, hair pulling, breathing kink)There may be some grammatical errors, English is not my primary language

Word count:2283

N/A: I've been gone for a while, I was kinda sad these days and wasn't getting around to writing, so apologies for the delay in requests. I loved writing this one shot, it was for sure the filthiest thing I've ever done and I'm already planning a part two for it.

Part 2

You look at the time one more time. 23:40. He should have been here two hours ago. You didn't know why you still ended up in these situations.

At the beginning of the week a boy had asked you out on a date, he had been kind of insisting on it for several days and then you finally gave in, to be honest you thought it would be a good idea, you were really trying to get over someone else. You had gotten all dressed up for the date, wearing your new red dress matching the color of the lipstick on your lips, but of course something had to go wrong, without even sending a message warning you that you would be late leaving you there alone at the bar for two hours.

Your cell phone beeps inside your purse and you quickly pick it up seeing a message notification.

"Sorry, I won't be able to make it" the message said.

"Asshole" you say to yourself taking the last sip of your third glass of wine that night already getting ready to leave. As soon as you get up from your chair you feel an arm hitting you, the person quickly turns around and if you thought the night couldn't get any worse you were completely wrong.

"Excuse me" He says still without looking at your face, but as soon as he does he gives you one of those "Miss Y/N" smiles.

"Mr Holland" you say a little nervously.

Tom was too young to be a college professor, he was barely out of one, but he was able to quickly show how effective he was at doing this. It had been over a year since he had started to be your literature professor, you still remember your first day when he walked into the auditorium and you could tell how nervous he was, it was so cute, the way he talked and nervously put his glasses on his face, but after a while he built up a certain confidence, and all that confidence caused not only you but all the female students in that class to sigh.

You had been avoiding him for two weeks or so since you realized you couldn't contain your feelings, you always sat in the back of the room hoping he wouldn't see you and now fate decided it would be a good idea to put him and you in the same bar.

"It seems like it's been so long since I've seen you" he says "I know you're going to my classes because I always get your assignments, but still..."

"I'm sorry, I've just been a little distant these last few weeks" you give a shy smile.

"Got it" His gaze goes down your body looking at your dress before looking back into your eyes "so, did you come to meet your boyfriend?"

He couldn't have been more discreet than that. Tom had been in love with you since the first day he met you, always paying attention in your class like it was the best thing in the world and answering your questions correctly and after you started helping him at the end of class he got even more caught up in your fingers, you were so smart and so beautiful, you were everything he wanted and could never have.

"I don't have a boyfriend" he almost lets out a sigh of relief at your answer "I'm alone today".

"Me too..." He watches her for a moment again "You could sit with me" he offers gently.

"I don't want to bother you".

"It won't be any bother, you know I enjoy your company" He lets slip.

"Perhaps I could stay here a little longer".

He sits down right next to he at the table and orders a drink for the two of them.

"Don't worry, I'll buy it for you." From another one of those charming smiles that sent shivers down your body.

You notice, the black pants that fit so well on his body and the white social shirt with the first few buttons open, he had probably just finished his last class of the day before going to the bar.

"I read your latest work on the Brontë sisters, it was impeccable, as always" he compliments making you smile.

"I think it was the easiest assignment of the year, I love their books".

"I'm sure you do" he speak with a smile.

"What do you mean?"

"I think I know you pretty well, I'm sure I can tell all your favorite books just by looking at your eyes."

"Really?" He asks laughing.

"Yes" He says smugly.

"Then Mr Holland" you say in a tone of challenge approaching him "Tell me by looking into my eyes what my favorite books are" He looks at you, watching you intently in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm sure you love classics, Pride and Prejudice or Emma must be your favorites, and your favorite Brontë is Emily, surely you've read The Hill of Howling Winds more than once" He answers with surprising certainty without breaking eye contact, you blush over his gaze, he seemed to be reading you "So did I get it right?"

"Almost, really my favorite book is Emma, I love classics, but I am also passionate about books like Twilight" you both laugh together " but you got one thing wrong, my favorite Brontë is Charlotte, nothing will ever compare to Jane Eyre"

"I was almost entirely right" he defends himself as a joke.

"You are almost always right Mr. Holland".

"We are not in college, you don't have to call me Sir, you can call me Tom".

"Sure, Tom" You look down at your cup taking another sip of your drink.

He watches you intently as you bring the drink to your lips, the dress fit so well on your body, as if it was made exactly for him, and those red lips were driving him crazy, he wanted so much to kiss you, to taste the flavor of that wine on your lips.

The hours pass quickly as they talk, soon it is already 02:00 in the morning and the two of them are still there together.

"Why are you here alone on a Friday night?" You ask curiously after a while.

"I was correcting the last assignments of this semester and needed a stiff drink after I finished" he says before taking a sip of the whiskey in his glass "And you, why are you alone here? Shouldn't you be at some frat party or something?"

"No" you laugh "I had a date" you say shyly.

"I thought you hadn't a boyfriend."

"I don't, it was just a date, but he kind of dumped me, so I ended up alone here."

"What an idiot, I would never let you get away" He says and your eyes meet for the thousandth time that night. You were already sitting very close together "I'm sure he'll be very sorry later" he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"Why?" Your breath starts to get a little shallow with the closeness, your lips were already so close, you bite your lower lip making his gaze go straight to your mouth.

"Because you're perfect, any guy who has you is going to be so lucky" he takes a deep breath for a moment "God, you're so beautiful."

You finally break the distance between the two of you and kiss him. You pull away soon after, thinking that you had misinterpreted the moment and that maybe he was just being nice to you, but then he kisses you again, but intensely this time. One of his hands goes up your thigh, slowly lifting your dress and leaving a firm grip on it.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," he whispers with his lips still close to yours.

"Me too..."

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

Tom closes the door of his apartment and puts her against it kissing her again, his hands going all over her body, now his hands find her hair pulling it lightly making her moan between the kiss.

Their hands finally reach the zipper of your dress opening it and letting it fall on your feet leaving her only in lingerie, he looks admiringly at her body biting his lip.

"More beautiful than I ever imagined."

"Do you imagine me much without clothes Mr.Holland?" He asks in a cheeky tone.

Tom was already used to you calling him that way, but not with that sexy tone of voice you used this time, he felt a sting in his cock when you ask him that, like he was getting harder just from your words.

"More than I should dear."

"What kinds of thoughts go through your head?"

"Don't worry honey, I'll show you" he says suggestively.

He begins to spread kisses down your neck, down to the top of her breasts, then down her belly, until he is on his knees in front of her, Tom runs one of his fingers down her still clothed slit.

"You are so wet, princess, is this all for me?" You just moan in response "I'll take that as a yes".

His hands pull your panties down removing them from your body, he places one of your legs over his shoulder leaving kisses along your thigh without looking away from your face. His kisses finally reach her center, he runs his tongue slowly from her entrance to her clit trapping it between his lips as soon as he finds it.

"Fuck, Tom" his hands grab her hair making him moan, the vibrations increasing your pleasure.

He would take her close to her apex and stop before you could cum and then repeat it all over again.

He holds your clit between his lips again, running his tongue over the little pink bud, but this time he decides to add his fingers to the tease, you were already so wet that the first finger goes in easily and then the second, in and out of you making you roll your eyes with pleasure.

"Please Tom."

"Please what princess?" He asks after taking his mouth off your intimacy without taking his fingers off you.

"Please Mr Holland" you say innocently "I need to cum".

"Good girl" he sucks you again until you finally reach your climax in his mouth and fingers.

He stands up quickly showing you the fingers that were inside you and placing them over your lips.

"Suck" He says authoritatively, you open your mouth quickly sucking your own furrows from his fingers, tongue curling around them as if you were sucking his cock. You moan in protest as he removes them from you, missing the weight on your tongue.

Finally they arrive in your room, placing you on his bed as he removes your clothes, and he makes you turn around, your belly and chest against the bed and your hips thrusting toward him. You hear the sound of the condom packet being opened before you feel him brush his cock against your pussy, from entrance to clit without penetrating making you moan slyly.

"Are you ready princess?" He asks.

"Yes please" you practically beg to have him.

His hands grab your hips, he finally enters you making you both moan loudly, Tom throws his head back feeling how pleasurable it was to have you.

"So tight, you feel so good around me" He says.

Moving in and out of you slowly, just to tease you, you roll your eyes and moan against the sheets, he finds your G-spot quickly increasing the pleasure.

"God, so so good"

His fingers curl into your hair pulling you in and the other hand finds your throat choking you slightly and pulling your body until your back is glued against his firm chest, the hand against your throat was the best part, the fingers squeezing on top of your pulse point and turning your face to him kissing you deeply.

"You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you princess?" He whispers in her ear.

"Yes" she replies almost voicelessly.

"You're a good girl for me, so wet..."

"Tom, please" she begs throwing her head back over his shoulder.

"Do you want to cum baby?" You ask penetrating her even faster "Cum for me."

Your body seems to obey his command and you are cumming seconds later, he comes soon after.

He pulls out of you and helps you to lie down on the bed, you fall tiredly against the pillow breathing quickly. Tom gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom attached to the bedroom. When he comes back already dressed in his pits and with a wet towel wiping you down, he then helps you put on your shirt before lying down beside you.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

When you wake up, the first thing you see is Tom, his arm around your body keeping you close.

"Shit," you say softly so as not to wake him.

Remembering everything that happened last night you are desperate, you can't regret what happened, it was certainly the best sex of your life. But it was so wrong.

You get out of bed slowly, pulling his arm away from your body, luckily he doesn't wake up and you manage to get up. You grab your clothes and quickly get dressed and get out of there. This couldn't happen again, it certainly couldn't.

You wouldn't fall into temptation again.

[bigwhispersbluebird]

BTS reaction when they are jealous  (Hyung Line)

Author’s Note: I often read a lot of reaction based fics and realize that perhaps my take on it is a little different. So here it goes. Do tell me if you like it or agree or just anything. Also, I am new to this so excuse me for any mistakes. Thanksss

Warnings: None

Seokjin or Jin

He watched from far as a man in his 20s approached you from behind as you finished the call you had excused yourself to attend. Judging from your reaction, he concluded that you knew the guy. Even though he couldn’t hear a word, your comfortable laugh, the way you slightly hit his shoulder while talking and mimicked his body language, Jin felt a weird irk inside him.

Don’t misunderstand, Kim Seokjin was very confident about himself but there was a part of him that often wondered if he was enough. He might be handsome but there were more handsome people around. He was not the smartest or the most athletic and he came with a load of baggage. So much that he couldn’t cross the room to where you were standing and openly declare that you were his gorgeous and brilliant girlfriend.

His thoughts were intruded by the chime of his phone. 

“You okay?”, your text read and he looked up to spot you a few tables away. The young stranger gone now and your eyes only on him. 

“No. I am Jin”, he replied in his usual manner, trying to hide the truth, cracking the worst joke ever in the process and wincing at himself as soon as he sent it.

He watched as you laughed unabashedly as soon as you saw the screen, your eyes glistening and he realized that this laugh was just for him. 

“You must be really in love with me if you laughed at that”, he sent and watched as you read and suddenly the same look overtook your face that he had seen on himself so many times when he was with you. 

He only took his eyes off you when his phone chimed again.

“Of course. Who else would ever compare?”

Yoongi or Suga

This was getting annoying for him. Yoongi would call himself a pretty calm person especially after the ten years of life as an artist had made him immune to almost everything happening around him. But this was getting on his nerves. 

You had walked into HYBE tonight and after just being at Genius Lab for a few minutes, you had asked about Do-Yan and went to seek him as soon as Yoongi told you that he must be in PDogg’s studio. Had it been a one time occurrence, Yoongi wouldn’t even have cared enough to think much into it but after this becoming a routine, he was over it. 

Do-Yan was a talented young producer who was contracted for TXT’s new album. You were heavily involved in the A&R activities of BigHit Music and were actually the person who had discovered Do-Yan. In your perspective, he could be a great asset and while he was just here on a temporary basis, you wished to persuade him to sign him as a BigHit producer permanently. PDogg had agreed with you and now you both were on the task of convincing him to stay. 

Unaware of this all, Yoongi decided to do something about the situation. As he typed the messages to the management team, he knew that this was very petty of him but he was beyond the point of caring right now. 

The next time you asked him about Do-Yan, Yoongi did not look up from his computer as he said, “He has been moved”. 

“What?”, you were shocked to say the least. “Moved? What do you mean moved?”

“He will be working with Bang PD directly now so he will be in the other building.”

“So, he signed the contract?”

Now Yoongi was getting agitated, “Why do you care so much?”, he had turned his seat around and was now only focusing on you. His tone was still calm but inside he was screaming.

Oblivious to the storm inside him you said, “Why wouldn’t I? He must have else he would not have said yes to that since...”, Yoongi was not even listening anymore. 

“He did. I talked to the management myself and got him to say yes”, Yoongi said. His voice low and his back now turned to you. “You can move there as well if you want to see him and care about him so much”.

“You...but you didn’t know”, suddenly all the pieces fell into place in your mind and you scolded yourself mentally for not noticing it yourself. 

“Yoongi”, you called out to him softly as you moved closer to his chair. “Jagiya”, you called again as you kneeled beside his chair, taking his hand lightly in yours. 

“I just wanted him to join the company so I was spending most of my time on that. I am sorry that I did not clear it to you. I’ll make up for all the lost time now that you’ve got it done”. 

Yoongi couldn’t even remember what he was angry about as you placed yourself on his lap, pulling him close to leave a gentle kiss on his lips. 

After a while your phone rang and you announced that you had to go for a meeting. As you inched closer to the door, you remembered something and without even turning around you said:

“I can’t believe you got him moved”

You closed the door behind you but not before hearing his low chuckle.

Hoseok or J-Hope or Hobi 

“I think Yeonjun and I should perform on something more sexy?”, you said with your eyes fixated on his face waiting for a reaction.

His eyebrows furrowed and then as if thinking about it, he immediately turned to you, nodding, “Yes, I think it will work great with both of your stage personalities”.

You were surprised. This was not the answer that you were expecting. You had hoped that he would get jealous like all those TikTok boyfriends. 

But you were not going to be dejected so easily. 

“Why don’t you help with the choreography?”, you suggested, a plan already forming in your head. 

“Y/N, I would have been offended had you not asked me”, he said as he showed off his gorgeous smile.

After a few days when you three started working on the performance, you tried to make Hobi jealous. You would suggest even more suggestive moves but he would just think about them and excitedly agree to them or politely decline saying how it does not fit with the steps. 

He would watch as you danced, concentrated and focused, but unwavering. 

After weeks of this charade, you grew tired and when Yeonjun excused himself to leave for a music show you exasperatedly sighed in front of Hobi who was monitoring the recently shot dance practice video of yours. 

“I don’t think you even care about me”.

“Huh?!”, Hobi was bewildered. “What?!”

“Yeah, you don’t care if I go throw myself in someone else’s arms”, your voice was loud in the empty dance studio. You lowered it again, “you don’t care”.

“Y/N”, Hobi was now closer to you, looking straight into your eyes. “I care. I care a lot. I care that this performance is amazing because this is a great opportunity for you. I care that your steps show exactly how good of a dancer you are. I care and that is why I would never let anybody else do it instead of me”. 

You were surprised. This was not what you were looking for but it was a pleasant difference. 

“And I would care if it was not a performance. I would, I do care if anyone even looks at you in the wrong way but I would never take it out on you. I want you to be able to perform without worrying what I would take it as. I want you to be loved by everyone in the audience”. 

His arms slowly snaked around your waist and under your sweatshirt, “just not the way that I do”.

Namjoon or RM

Namjoon had watched you the entire night, his eyes refusing to leave your figure as you rushed around the venue making sure everything was perfect. 

It was the last concert of the tour and you as the tour manager were adamant on making it memorable and smooth. Double-checking everything, you finally allowed yourself a moment of peace as you saw your boyfriend rehearse his performance for Trivia:  Love. 

Namjoon locked eyes with you, smiling and rapping his lines as if talking to you. Suddenly, you felt the weight of something on your shoulders and you looked away from the stage realizing that it was your assistant, Alan, who had just covered you with his jacket. You smiled gratefully as he extended a hand holding your coffee. 

“You should rest for a while before we meet back for sound check”, he suggested and you looked at your watch to see that he was right. Tonight was going to be hectic and a power nap was definitely needed.

You had not even realized that the stage was now empty and the leader was standing right by your side. His eyes were not on you, but on the man now sitting beside you, glancing at his jacket on your shoulders. 

Shrugging the jacket off, you asked, “Are you done? Any issues?”. 

Not answering your question, Namjoon kept staring at Alan and you felt bad for the poor guy. You asked again and this time Namjoon’s lips turned into a smile, “None, jagiya”. Jagiya?! 

Now you were the one staring daggers at him but he did not waver. Instead, with the same smile plastered on his lips, he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, pulling the zipper closer together as he made his way to where Alan was sitting. Alan immediately got up, excusing himself and vacating the seat that now your boyfriend occupied, his hand reaching across your shoulder to pull you into him. 

You resisted. 

“ ‘Jagiya’. Really?! Really, Namjoon?”

He just smiled at that, genuinely this time. “Come on, you know I lose all calm when it comes to you”.

“Calm and senses, both”, you murmured as he laughed and pulled you closer and you let him, closing your eyes and resting before work would call you again.