#Just jolted awake and had a heartrate of Too Fast To Want To Time It lol. And then suffering time all night

[joelletwo]

Guy has. Worst night of sleep it might be possible to have.

[dawnoftime22]

lullaby.

| T.S

Warnings: no talking from R, a very light nightmare, and panicked/fast heartrate

Summary: Taylor was doing her work in the middle of the night while you slept, until you had suddenly received a nightmare, leading to Taylor to help you fall asleep.

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

A/N: you guys...I hit 500 followers and I'm BEYOND in disbelief. I'm so so happy I wanna squeeze each and every one of you in a hug!! I loooove you all sm - I'm thinking of doing a special for it, although I would have to push myself a little and get my motivation back up. who knows, I'm hoping to maybe do a comfort week where I post comforting fics each day in a week for the times that anyone needs them :]

| Started on 28/06/2024, 2:26 AM |

| Finished on 28/06/2024, 8:30 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

“My, my, your gentle voice, oh, to be softly soothed with as I fall asleep.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

You were asleep, laying on the bed with your breathing deep and soft. It was quiet, a peaceful atmosphere as the cats, too, were sleeping.

Taylor was still awake. But it wasn't without reasons, as she had emails and work to do before tomorrow arrives, and also a melody stuck in her head too.

She had told you to sleep before her earlier, just because she knows you've had a long, exhausting day as she did. Even though you tried to stay up to accompany her, it was obvious you weren't able to keep your eyes open, so, a few minutes of cuddling had you sleeping within seconds.

The laptop screen made her squint through the dimly lit room, reading the words of a document, or her notes she had to check for anything she's forgotten.

A yawn escapes her mouth, and as her fingers made the keyboard keys clack with her typing, she felt herself getting sleepy.

Her eyes travel to the clock. It was 2 am. The night was still young, really, for any nights she's ever wanted to stay up for. But she wouldn't deny some sleep for now, especially with you already in slumber.

Deciding she needed at least a break, she makes sure everything is saved and mostly done on her laptop before looking to the side to grab her phone.

The screen was unlocked after seeing a picture of you and her, with Meredith, Olivia, and Benjamin at the bottom. A smile raises upon her lips, her eyes going to your, thankfully, still sleeping figure.

She closes her laptop and set it aside before scooting closer to you slightly, then returning to her phone. The screen shows instagram loading up, and she uses her index finger to scroll, seeing posts and stories of her friends and other celebrities.

The gentle hum of her voice quietly sounds out, a smile still on her face, which raised up further at the sight of one of your posts; a photo of your hand, intertwined with hers, but a small cat paw joined in, atop the back of your hands.

She remembered when that happened. It was when you were sitting on the living room couch together, watching a movie. Taylor had reached your hand up to leave a soft kiss, and was about to settle it back down comfortably, when Benjamin's fluffy paw had come out of nowhere to touch your intertwined hands.

She scrolls a bit more, seeing Gracie's video of the fire in her kitchen. Again, Benjamin had come into the scene, but he was confuzzled with what he walked into. Taylor didn't even notice he was there when the situation was happening-- especially not when she was cursing at a fire extinguisher hoping her house wasn't going to burn down while Gracie was mindlessly holding up her phone.

She went to type a comment to the video, her thumbs hovering over the digital keyboard, but just as she did, she saw the smallest movement of your stirring in the corner of her vision.

Taylor senses the chance of your awakening, and her eyes lock onto your face with concern. But then, you had jolted out of your sleep with a sharp breath, your eyes snapping open.

Even with her surprise, she catches herself to gently wrap her arm around you, careful not to scare you further as she pulls you closer.

You look around panickly before you felt her hand moving in a soothing rhythm at your back. You find her blue eyes in the darkness, and she could see the vulnerability gleaming in yours.

Her face softens, and her hand moves up so she could gently make you lean against her forehead. "Shhh, it's alright." She whispers, letting go of her phone to wrap both her arms around you, making sure her phone was beside her instead of in between the both of you, just in case she accidentally moves atop it.

With a slow, gentle breath you let out, you snuggle close to her, your nose brushing against her neck, tickling the skin ever so slightly.

Although she was concerned, she could see it in your form; you were calm on the outside, but your rapid heart told otherwise. It was clear. You had a small nightmare, but thankfully not one enough to terrify all your being.

Taylor looks down, tilting her head to take a little peek at you. The tiredness and sleepiness was still in your eyes, the yawn that escapes your mouth told it further.

She smiles softly, turning to lay a soft kiss against the side of your head. Her hand was kept on your back, moving in a soothing motion still.

Minutes passed by, the white noise of the fan and A/C sounding through the room, and her own yawn coming from her mouth.

With a check on you again, she saw your eyes half open, but also not fully closed. The movement of your hand fiddling on her necklace also was a clear sign. You were having difficulty falling back asleep, and she knew you needed a small push.

With a gentle deep intake of breath that she releases slowly, she closes her eyes, leaning into you. A soft hum starts to quietly sound from her, a familiar melody that had your bleary eyes traveling up to her.

"I spy with my little tired eye, tiny as a firefly..."

"A pebble that we picked up..."

"Last july..."

All that filled the space now was her whispered words, starting to lull you to sleep. Her hands lovingly run through your hair, in hopes that it will calm you. With the melting relaxation of your body, it indeed did.

"Down deep inside your pocket,"

She smiles softly, looking at you once more with a warm smile, even while she too, was sleepy, it almost made it even sweeter.

"...We almost forgot it..."

"Does it ever miss wicklow...sometimes?"

Your eyes had grown heavier, and she watches as they finally close. Your breaths dissolve into a steadier, slower rhythm, and her humming matches with the timing.

"Mm, mm..." She hums softly, continuing on with her lullaby, until she too starts to fall asleep herself, joining you in slumber.

They said the end is coming...

Everyone's up to something...

I find myself runnin' home to your...sweet nothings...

Outside, they're push and shoving...

You're in the kitchen, humming...

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing.

-----------

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[captaincravatthecapricious]

It Was My Job to Protect You and I Failed- Prompt Fill

@celosiaa​

CWs: panic attacks, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts kind of? (Jon wishing that if someone is going to kill him that they would just get it over with), paranoia, insomnia, season 2 Jon and all his issues.

Jon and Martin are having trouble coping after the Prentiss attack.

I am still accepting bingo prompts! Although this sheet is getting full. Thinking about doing another, but no promises yet, still have a few more to go here! Just let me know which prompt and which character and if you want a drawing or a fic!  Bingo card by the wonderful @celosiaa​

It's been too long since he slept.  He knows this.  His eyes are gritty and they hurt when he blinks.  Vision starting to sway out of focus as Jon stares down at the statement on his desk.  He doesn’t have the energy to lift the paper and hold it at a better angle for his poor eyes, so it strains them more.  

It’s fine.  No one has been getting much sleep.  He isn’t special.  He isn’t different.  Tim is just as tired, and has been avoiding him since he was caught spying.  

Jon keeps trying to convince himself that it was justified suspicion.  He doesn’t want to be suspicious.  God he wants to carve this paranoid out of him.  This clawing, scratching, all-consuming fear that he isn’t safe, that someone he has known for years could have… tricked him.  Gotten his guard down.  How long was Gertrude’s murderer planning it?  

Why?

Did she know her killer?

It could have been anyone.  

It could have been anyone.  

His chest aches with the tension that has been clutching at him since… Gods he still hasn’t processed.  Gertrude shot.  In this office.  

It could have been anyone.  

He wants to trust Tim.  And Martin.  And Sasha.  

He misses them.  God he misses them.  

He misses the calm certainty that his friends won’t slit his throat the moment he lets his guard down.  Why the hell would he choose to be this way?  Tim seems to think that he chose to be this suspicious.  He didn’t.  

He didn’t.  

He would swear he didn’t.  

He wants to believe his friends.  He wants to believe that he will be okay and safe and that nothing else terrible can happen to him ever again.  He has had a lifetime of terrible things already.  But everyone that loved him is dead or left or could murder him.  If he… just… let himself sleep.  He wants to sleep he wants a cup of tea.  But he can’t trust the tea or the kindness or sleep.  

Every time he closes his eyes he feels the squirming on his skin, the burrowing into holes that are hardly healed over.  He hears footsteps and singing and the creaking of floorboards, the sharp sounds of a knife the click of a gun being cocked.  

Every time he lays down, he jolts himself awake as soon as his heartrate starts to slow.  The few times he passed out of exhaustion or pain he wakes up seconds later sweating bullets swallowing a scream as he is sure… positive that someone is waiting for him.  Waiting to catch him unawares.  

So waits outside in the cold, injuries pulling with the dropping temperatures, joints stiff, shivering with cold and fear and sleep deprivation, watching the people he should trust, betraying their trust in him like the miserable excuse for a wretched man he is.  

He is drifting closer to his desk when there is a tentative voice at his door.  No knocking.  There hasn’t been knocking in months.  Still his head snaps up.  Hurting the neck that has already put up with enough shit keeping him upright without rest in months… since… since Her.  

“Jon?  I made you some tea?”  Everything Martin says sounds unsure now.  A question.  From fear?  From fear of Jon?  Fear for Jon?  A trick to get Jon to relax?  

Jon grunts.  Loud enough to be heard through his door.  Nice and noncommittal.  If Martin is planning to kill him it would be stupid to do during work hours if no one else is in on it.  If the others are in on it, then it doesn’t matter, he is practically dead already.  He does want the tea, but that would be an easy way to kill him, wouldn’t it?  

“Jon, I’m coming in.”  

Jon can see him shaking even through smearing vision.  “Good lord!  Martin are you alright?”  He surprises himself with concern, and the lack of fear that this is a trick.  

“Fine.  I’m fine.  Here, take your tea, I’ll.. I’m going to go back to my desk and drink mine, yeah?  I’m alright.”  

His hands are shaking enough that he is in danger of the tea splashing.  

Jon finds himself on his feet.  Vision blacking out for a moment.  Damn his exhaustion.  

Martin’s hands are warm, and that thought threatens to black out his vision again, simply out of… Jon doesn’t know.  Shock?  

Is it gay to almost pass out when you brush the hand of your shaking coworker when you are sleep deprived and paranoid?  

Jon banishes the thought with a slight shake of his head, which nearly causes him to black out again.  He carefully takes the mug from Martin’s hands.  He smells bergamot.  He doesn’t want to let go of Martin.  The heat of hand touching hand sends a shudder through him.  When was the last time he touched another person?  Was it… in the tunnels being more or less carried?  Was it that single night of camaraderie through trauma before the gnawing terror set in.  Terror of his …friends?  Not of the squirming ordeal that they just survived.  

His first wrong move had been there.  Stopping to interrogate instead of resting.  He shouldn’t have pushed.  Surly even someone with the best intentions towards him must have wished death on him for that.  

He nudges Martin towards a chair.  Mechanically he drapes his battered coat around Martin.  

It’s comically small on him, and worn to the point it probably isn’t doing anything against the damp chill of the basement.  Colder still with the knowledge that the walls are thin and anything could lurk behind.  

Martin looks at him blankly.  Jon thinks he might have run out of mental script.  Jon… knows that feeling.  This is hardly the sort of conversation you plan for or expect.  Not something you can rehearse in the shower… or could before you became too afraid to speak in the shower for fear that the extra level of noise would lead to someone leaping out at you with a butcher’s knife and you wouldn’t even know it was coming… and honestly would that be so bad?  At least it would be fast and he would at least know who it was and he could die trusting whoever wasn’t the person knifing him to death in the shower.  

Focus, Jonathan.  

“Are…. Are you alright?”  Jon, fumbles for his own seat before his legs can give out.  Pain and exhaustion.  Probably not the best for if he needs to run from something…. But not much he can actually do about it if he can’t sleep ...not to mention his ruined leg.  

Martin, to Jon’s horror, sniffles.  A choked half sob half laugh.  “Me?  Jon, you almost passed out three times just now.”

“You’re shaking.”  Jon protests weakly.  

“Yeah, and so are you.”  

Jon looks at him.  Studies him.  Looks for some reason to be afraid.  But he doesn’t have the energy.  He slumps.  Skin pulling at his many… many scabs.  “When’s the last time you slept?”  

Another half sob.  “Probably the last time you did.”  

Jon can’t remember the last time he slept.  Probably not even before Prentiss, aside from one night with painkillers before he realized they just left him open to an attack.  But he can’t rightly call that nauseous hazy not-sleep Sleep.  Does Martin know just how long ago that was?  Or is he assuming that Jon slept well before that?  Or has Martin really just not slept in that long?  Jon wishes he could remember… but he hardly payed Martin mind before then… except for criticizing him and you don’t tend to look that closely at people you are trying to dislike.  

“Do…. You want to talk about it?”  Jon asks cautiously.  Does he care?  Is this a tactic to catch Martin in a lie, or his he concerned?  Jon can’t even tell.  

Christ Martin looks soft.  Warmer and safer than his hard and empty bed.  

Where did that thought come from???

“What?  Just another way to interrogate me?  Christ Jon I just want to have a breakdown in peace, and then go back to pretending this isn’t happening, alright?”  Edged with tear, and the unfamiliar bitter bite of anger that he expects from Tim.  

It hurts.  And Jon bites back a bitter remark, or a sob, or a scream.  He doesn’t really know.  “I… I’m worried about you?”

“Are you, or are you just worried about what I could do to you?”

It doesn’t sound like a threat?  He doesn’t think.  Just… sounds tired.  As tired as Jon feels.  

“Christ… Martin… I.  Do you think I want to be like this?  I can’t FUCKING SLEEP.  I haven’t slept I keep… thinking I hear someone in my flat.  I keep thinking that I’m going to turn around and she will be there or that I’ll be nose to nose with a gun or… or a knife or I don’t know a flamethrower.  I can’t close my eyes.  I can’t eat anything that isn’t packaged.  I … how do I know it hasn’t been tampered with?  That I… shit.  I just…. I am so tired and I just want it… to just do it already.  Just get it over with so I can stop worrying and wondering and fuck I’d be dead but it’s better than waiting and worrying and waking up without even sleeping.  “I should… I should have protected you… It was my fault you even saw Prentiss, I shouldn’t have pushed and I can’t stop pushing and I don’t want to be like this.  I should have protected you.  I can’t stop picking and prodding and I can’t even trust that the only people who don’t hate me aren’t just pretending.  I failed you all and Christ it should have been me trapped by Her and it should have been Sasha who got this job but maybe it should be me so it doesn’t get her killed too….”  He can’t raise his voice.  It’s just a panicked whisper.  Can’t even admit to himself these things.  Can’t believe he’s said it to Martin, but it’s out of his mouth in a tangled jumble before he can even think.  He’s shaking harder now.  He can’t look at Martin.  Doesn’t want to know what he is going to say.  

But Martin doesn’t get the chance to say anything because Tim barges in.  Loudly.  Unannounced.  “JON I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU ARE TERRORSING MARTIN AGAIN I SWEAR!”

Tim is still talking but all he can hear is his heartbeat in his throat and a high pitched tone in his ears.  The wheeze of his shitty lungs trying to pull in air but just tightening instead.  Asthma, panic?  It doesn’t matter, his vision is going dark again, and he catches a glimpse of Martin similarly shocked and wheezing (although since Martin doesn’t have asthma it’s probably just a panic attack).  

Tim’s holding his inhaler.  Tim is telling him to use it.  To take a breath and hold.  And once he has, Tim is talking them both down.  With gentle movements and calming words.  And Jon doesn’t know what to think.  Doesn’t know if he can trust this gentleness after weeks of tension.  Months of tension.   And that nearly sends him spiraling again before Tim has a hand on his chest and his hand on Tim’s chest and they are breathing together.  

There is deafening silence once everyone stops wheezing.  “Okay what the hell was that about?” Tim demands after a long moment.  

“Heh, you know... Two coworkers having simultaneous breakdowns...” Martin adds weakly.  

“What?  Five feet apart because you’re not not gay?”  Tim scowls at Jon like he doesn’t believe what Martin said.  Like Martin is covering for Jon or something.   

“Tim,” Martin admonishes.  

Jon isn’t sure he can get words out.   He’s still breathless and even an aborted panic attack took any energy he had in his empty reserves.     

Jon finds his vision smearing with tears and exhaustion.  He doesn’t have it in him to swipe at them.  “If either of you are planning to kill me, please do it now.  I have a pair of scissors.  Just... get it over with.  And if not, I’d rather like to lay down.”  His voice sounds far away.  

Tim rounds in him properly.  

Jon doesn’t want to see it.  If he’s going to die now he doesn’t want to see it.  

“Please.   I’m.  I’m so tired.”  Eyes closed.  Voice wobbling.  He’s embarrassed, but he’s too exhausted to care.  

“Shit Jon.  I don’t want to hurt you.  But you did fuck me over.”  

Jon’s in a ball on his seat, he’s properly sobbing now.  Silently.   Arms over his head waiting for an attack.  

The longer he waits for one.  The more he shakes.   He can’t do this any longer.  

His scrawny, underfed arms are shaking with exertion.  His breathing is... likely on a fast track to another panic attack.  

Someone gently grasps his quaking wrists.  Holding them steady.  He opens one bloodshot eye a crack.  

“Let’s.  Let’s get out of here, alright?  We... we should probably talk about.  A lot of things.  Take turns keeping watch, I think we all could use some sleep.”  

It’s Tim. Tim has his wrists.   So gently.   And Tim guides him up and towards Martin.   Who is also shaking and red-eyed.  

Jon stumbles into him with a breathless sound and a frankly embarrassing whine.  His legs won’t hold him up anymore, and he is ends up in Martin’s lap.  And the two of them quietly shake together until Tim rounds up them and their stuff and herds them out of the Institute.  

Jon doesn’t remember getting to his flat, but Tim and Martin are there, and he would panic about that, but he thinks he let them in.  He thinks he remembers a conversation.  Where Martin is afraid to go home, and Tim doesn’t want Jon at his but wants to keep an eye on them both, and Jon can’t argue that he needs something, and he… he doesn’t know.  Nothing has changed.  But.  Maybe he can trust… just for tonight.  And maybe if he can do that.  Maybe they can all talk in the morning.  And maybe he can trust for a little longer.  And maybe if he’s lucky, (and if Tim satisfies his vindictive nature by snooping around his flat in retaliation) maybe Tim and Martin can trust him again too.  

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Canine Conundrum (Part 2)

(Connor x Reader x Nines)

A/N: Ask and yee shall receive! heres part 2! (Electric boogaloo)

———————————————

Loud knocks at your door jolted you awake from your slumber. The sudden sound also alerting the two dogs who layed either side of you. It seemed like you must have fallen asleep in the same position on the couch you had been the night before. You glanced from the husky on your right to the shepard on you left in confusion before memories of the previous day came back to you. A grin made its way to your face.

"Morning boys," you said, stifling a yawn.

Another couple of heavy knocks sounded at the door and you pulled yourself from off the couch. As you trudged over to the door your two canine companions followed close behind, eyeing the door cautiously. The sight made you smirk slightly.

Upon opening the door you were faced with none other than Hank.

"Hey Hank, what brings you here? And so early?" you glanced over to your clock on the wall that read 4:36am as you spoke.

"Got a call about a lead that might have info on where their bodies are," he grumbled, motioning to the two who sat by your feet.

"Oh, okay. Let me just go get dressed real quick," you opened your door wider for the older man to step inside however he just gave you a funny look.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked, really hoping you weren't about to say what he thought you were going to say.

"I'm coming with you," you stated as if it were obvious.

"Like hell you are. You're not even a detective, you aren't trained to be out in the field," he argued.

"I can handle myself thank you very much. Plus I've got you and these guys to protect me," you retorted with a grin, pointing to the basically guard dogs.

"Besides, would you rather go ask Gavin for help instead?" you added, knowing full well that won the argument.

Just as you thought, Hank just sighed and stepped inside your humble abode.

"Fine. But you do exactly as I say and never leave my sight, got it?" he ordered.

"Got it. Thanks dad," you gave him a little wink and shot him with finger guns before hurrying to your room to change.

Although he wouldn't admit it, he kinda did think of you as a daughter/son figure. Hence why he was so reluctant to let you accompany him. He was already worrying about the possibility of Connor being (and even Conan) being stuck as dogs, he didn't want to have to worry about you too. But Hank rarely got his way. Poor man.

A soft whine drew Hank's attention down to Connor, who he guessed disapproved of hom giving into you so easily.

"How about you tell her/him to stay then?" he said with a little smirk, crossing his arms.

Connor gave a short bark to which Hank just rolled his eyes.

"That's what I thought."

After about roughly five minutes you came back out from your room dressed and ready to go. You just needed to throw on a jacket and boots.

"Alright. Let's get going shall we?" you grinned as you opened your door for the three.

Quickly, you locked your door after you all before heading over to Hanks car. Hank was already in the drivers seat and just as you opened the passenger side for yourself, Conan took the opportunity to steal your spot.

"Hey!" you whined with a small pout.

Even in this dog form you could almost see him smirking. You rolled your eyes at him but leaned in to buckle in his seatbelt, because safety is important. An action which earned a weird look from Hank. However you got your revenge by pecking canine Conan's furry cheek before quickly leaning away and closing the door. He just huffed in response.

"Welp, guess were backseat buds," you say looking down to Connor.

You opened the back door, he jumped in first and you followed suit. As Hank started the car you fastened Connor's seatbelt before doing your own. When you looked up to meet his expectant big chocolatey brown eyes you gave a chuckle, bringing up your hand to pat his head. This earned the best smile a dog was able to muster. Oh you were so going to tease him about this later.

"So, where are we going?" you asked, leaning forward to look at Hank.

"Activity was reported at an abandoned house on the more secluded side of town," Hank replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Cool cool cool," you nodded, leaning back into your seat.

The drive didn't take more than a half hour at most and when Hank pulled up to the old run down looking house you immediately got bad vibes. It screamed 'someone definitely got murdered here and their ghost still hangs around'. Before getting out of the car you unbuckled yours and Connor's seatbelts. Then you had to go undo Conan's as well because Hank couldn't be bothered. After the four of you were out you headed towards the building. Once you reached the entrance Hank stopped and turned to you.

"You stick with me and stay quiet, got it?" his tone was serious.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you waved him off .

Upon entering the house it was seemed as if it had been abandoned for years. The paint was chipping off the walls, the hardwood floors looked like they were rotting, and you could practically see the dust particles in the air. But you knew better than to take its rundown state for face value.

"Alright, you two search the ground floor and me and (Y/n) will search upstairs," Hank spoke up, keeping his voice down.

You watched the two dogs share a look before going their separate ways to search the house. You had to stifle a laugh when you saw them starting to sniff around. It wasn't like they had their cool detective scans anymore so you guessed they had to make due with what they had. It was still adorable though.

Just like Hank said, you followed him up the stairs cautiously. The gravity of the situation finally hitting you that this might have been dangerous. Who knows what kind of weirdo was squaring here. If they were able to fuck with the two most advanced androids around who knows what else they were capable of?

As you followed Hank down a corridor with a couple doors on each side you suddenly stopped when you saw a faint blue glow coming from one of the rooms. Hank didn't seem to notice you stoping and kept on ahead. You opened you mouth to call for him but shut it, deciding it best to just investigate yourself. Sure you weren't a detective per say, and sure you had no training in combat or self defense, but you knew where to land a mean kick and that was good enough for you. So you broke one of Hank's only rules to go investigate on your own.

Slowly walking into the room you felt your heartrate start to pick up. Okay maybe this wasn't the best idea, but you were here now and apparently there was no turning back for you. When you entered the room fully your eyes were immediately draw to a set of monitors on the right wall. You also noticed a slew of wires, and when you followed them with your eyes you lifted your gaze to see none other than the bodies of your best friends/kinda crushes. You grinned at the discovery and felt pride well up inside you. This would show Hank you could totally be a detective if you wanted to.

You opened your mouth to call out to Hank and co when suddenly a hand harshly clamped over your mouth and a cool metal object was pressed into your temple.

"Don't you make a fucking sound," a low voice hissed in your ear.

Well, shit.

Your heart was beating so fast you weren't sure if it was just going to stop right then and there. Slowly you brought your hands up in surrender, not really sure what the hell else you could do. So much for being able to take care of yourself. You could feel tears stinging your eyes as a million thoughts flooded your mind. This was it. This was how you were going to die.

However your existential thoughts were cut short by the sound of Hanks voice coming from the entrance of the room.

"Detroit police, put the gun down asahole," he spoke firmly, his own gun trained on the assailant who had turned you around to face Hank and was now using you as a meat shield.

The man who was holding you hostage pressed the barrel of the gun further into your temple and you couldn't help but let out a whimper.

Hearing the commotion upstairs, Connor and Conan met up with each other in the livingroom. They exchanged a look before racing up the stairs, making their way to Hank's side in less than a minute. As soon as their eyes landed on the sight of the man that put them in the body of a dog, holding a gun to your head, they immediately started growling.

Now that there were three threats, the assailant didn't know who to pint the gun at. He kept shifting it from Hank, to Connor, to Conan, and back onto you.

"S-Stay back!" the man demanded.

You could tell he was scared by the way his voice shook, and the sound of the gun rattling as his hand trembled. However you made no move to get out of his grip because you knew that would lead to you getting shot.

"Put the gun down and let the girl/boy go and maybe you'll live," Hank said, not backing down.

The two dog detectives on either side of him snarled and growled, their stances ready to attack at any moment. It was weird how they managed to go from adorable to terrifying in no time flat. But then again the same could be said in their regular human bodies.

The gun that moved away from your head and pointed in the same pattern as before frantically. However before he had the chance to point it back to you, Conan suddenly took the opportunity to lunge at the attacker. The gun went off and Connor didn't give him the chance to fire again, sinking his teeth into the man's arm making him drop the gun, and you. When you looked over to Conan you immediately saw the blue blood dripping from his shoulder.

You ignored the pained screams of the man, Connor's angry growls as he kept him down, and Hank reading out the bastards rights as he cuffed him. Your attention was solely on your injured android friend who was trapped in the body of an equally android dog. The combination made your heart break twice as much.

"Conan! Hold on okay, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" you spoke, your voice showing obvious panic.

While you had you were on your mission of getting Conan back to his body before it was too late, Hank had taken the assailant who had passed out downstairs to his car. But Connor didn't leave the room. He hated how helpless he felt as all he could really do was watch you struggle.

As carefully as you could you picked up Conan and carried him over to lay him down in front of his regular body. As you laid him down he let out a pained whine and you had to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there. Moving over to the monitor you realized you had no clue what you were looking at. Time was running as you searched through files upon files and you felt like you were about to have a breakdown. If you failed to save Conan after he just tried to save you, you'd never forgive yourself.

When your eyes spotted a file called 'Memory Upload' you clicked it immediately, and when you did a message popped up that read 'Please Connect Device'. You assumed that meant an android, or at least you hoped that's what it meant. So naturally you dropped to your knees to find what wire to plug into the android dog. But once you saw the mess of wires your hope started to dwindle.

"You've got to be shitting me," you muttered to yourself as you started sifting though the wires.

Suddenly you noticed Connor come up to your side and nudged a yellow wire in your direction. You grabbed it immediately, assuming it was the right one, and crawled over to Conan who seemed to be just barely holding on. You gave him a quick reassuring pet through his fur, whilst also trying to simultaneously trying to find a way to plug in the damned wire. It felt like forever before you finally plugged the damned thing in, when reality it was only a couple seconds, and you practically flew up to monitor.

You barely read the words 'CN300 Canine Model Connected' before smashing the 'Transfer Memory' button. Once you saw the 1% you moved back to Conan's side to whisper reassuring words, trusting the upload process wod work quickly.

"Please, please don't die on me," you pleaded, resting your forehead on his side.

When you looked up to his doggy eyes next, they were lifeless. Your eyes widened and you felt like your whole world was coming down on you.

"Conan? No....nonononono," your voice cracked as you spoke and the tears that had threaten to spill the entire time finally spilled.

However what failed to notice in your grief struck state was the big 'Memory Transfer Complete' on one of the monitors. It was only when you heard someone clear their throat you looked to see Conan, staring down at you with his steel grey eyes, that were very much alive.

"Conan?" you said in disbelief, your glossy eyes widening.

"Hello (Y/n)," he replied simply, as if nothing had happened.

You immediately hopped up to your feet, your arms flying up to wrap around his torso in a tight hug. If he was anyone else he would have probably been tackled to the ground by the sheer force. He didn't reciprocate the hug immediately, but eventually he gave in and gave your head a little pat.

"I thought you died you asshole," your words came out muffled as your face was currently buried in his chest, but he heard you clear as day.

"Yes well, it was the only way to ensure you'd never make me go into that body ever again," he said as a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Wait are you serious!? You risked your life just to destroy the dog android?" you pulled away from him and looked up at him in utter disbelief.

"Correct," he said, his smirk widening at your reaction.

"Oh haha very funny," you huffed, punching him in the chest weakly.

"I don't understand why you think I'm joking," he tilted his head slightly, lifting an eyebrow as he feigned confusion.

"Yeah, suuuuuure. It totally wasn't to save my life or anything," you said rolling your eyes, not buying his bs for one second.

"Believe whatever you would like (Y/n)," he shot back.

You were about to reply back when a whine from your right cut you off. Looking down you saw Connor sitting next to you, who must have been waiting patiently for you and Conan to finish your little reunion.

"Oh shit, sorry Connor. Let's get you back to your body now that your asshole brother is fine," you gave him a little apology pet as you spoke.

Conan rolled his eyes at your little insult but didn't take any offense by it. He knew you loved him, and he loved you. Though he'd obviously would rather die than admit it. The stubborn bastard.

Thankfully when you had to redo the steps to transfer Connor's memory back to his body, you could do it calmly not that there wasn't so much pressure. Just as the transfer was almost 100% complete Hank returned to the scene. When he saw that Conan had been restored to his body, and now Connor as well, he looked over to you with a proud smile.

"Glad to see you didn't manage to fuck anything up," he said just as Connor opened his eyes.

"Gee thanks for the vote of confidence," you said sarcastically.

"You did good kid," he said sincerely.

"Thanks dad," you looked over to him with a smile.

"Hello Lieutenant, and (Y/n)," Connor greeted you both.

You looked over to him and offered him a wide grin before walking up to him, engulfing him in a hug. Unlike your hug with Conan, you wrapped your arms around Connor's neck since you could actually reach. Also unlike Conan, he almost immediately wrapped his arms around your waist. This boy always loved your hugs.

"Good to have you back Concon," you said as you pulled away.

"But I didn't go anywhere. I was just a dog," he said in confusion with one of his classic head tilts.

"Yeah I know Con," you chuckled.

God how you missed his adorable cluelessness.

"By the way, you were a very good boy," you added with a sly smirk.

"O-Oh um, thank you," he said with a timid smile, a light tint of blue dusting his cheeks.

You heard Conan scoff from your left and you glanced over to him, your smirk widening.

"Oh Conan, you were a very good boy too. No need to get jealous," you teased.

He rolled his eyes and turned his back to leave the room, however you noticed how his cheeks were turning a lovely shade of baby blue as well.

"Alright you weirdos let's get the fuck outta here," Hank said as he followed Conan out.

You were about to follow the two but stopped when you didn't hear Connor behind you. Looking back at him you saw he was picking up his dog equivalent. When he met your eyes he smiled sheepishly.

"I was wondering if I could keep this, for the future. If you'd ever like a dog. Me specifically," he tried to explain himself.

"Yes. That would be amazing Connor," you grinned.

At least one of them would be willing to explore the world through the eyes of a dog once again. However either way you were never going to let either of the two androids live this down. Ever.

——————————————

A/N: As alwayssss I did not mean for this to be this long wooooopss. I kinda have no clue where tf this went and I'm so sorry if its terrible lmaooo. Anyways I hope y'all enjoyed anyways 💙

[shotsbyshae]

Hurricane

Warnings: Language, Smut-ish

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Summary: Bucky does something crazy for his best friend Steve, doesn’t he? After all, Barnes only tolerates you because of Rogers, right?

A/N: Rogers or Barnes? Both. Some of you asked for both, so here’s a little Saturday drabble. 

Song: Hurricane by Halsey

And I found myself reminded, to keep you far away from me.

When will I die?

It isn’t something you ask yourself often.

Or ever, for that matter.

Maybe it should be though.

You were chasing down a lead Peter had on a local drug cartel, when the two of you stumbled upon a situation involving Martin Li’s enforcers at one of Fisk’s construction sites. Back up was on the way, but the Demons – that’s what they call themselves – had hostages. You had taken out a couple of them on an unfinished level of the building when you heard the energy blast a few stories above you.

Peter had disappeared up there moments ago, checking for more hostages.

“Parker,” you say quickly over the comms. “You good?” There’s no response and your eyes dart back and forth frantically as you scan the roof above you. “Parker?”

One of the Demons moves to the edge of the roof, Peter’s body slung over his shoulder, and you watch in horror as he lifts him up and tosses his lifeless body over the side.

The boy in the red and black suit is free falling and you have very little time to do the calculations. You take a few steps back before you begin running as hard as you can, leaping from the edge of the building as Peter’s body falls in front of you. You dive, arms flat against your side, like you’ve seen your friend do many times, giving you enough momentum to reach him as he falls face first and you cling to his back. You wrap your legs around his waist tightly, arms circling his chest, pulling his arms in with them, as you fumble for his wrist.

You press the release button located there, a string of webbing launches from the device and you watch in slow motion, willing the sticky substance higher as it flies towards the scaffolding above. Hair whipping across your face reminds you of how fast you’re plummeting toward the ground as the web finally makes contact and jerks Parker’s body out of the free fall.

The momentum and the force from the snap is too much.

You can’t hold him.

Falling backwards as you watch him dangle lifelessly above you, one arm stretched high above his head is the last image you see. Fearful of the inevitable, you close your eyes tightly. Peter’s voice sounds far away, screaming your name as he wakes up. The web he shoots from his other wrist toward you hits square in the center of your stealth suit.

Right as your body crumples the metal roof of the black sedan, shattering every window in an explosion of glass.

He’s too late.

***

Barnes stares through the glass, watching as Natasha touches Steve’s shoulder gingerly. She’s biting back her emotions, trying to be strong for her friend. Tony turns away from the table, rubbing his face with his hands.

“It’s my fault,” the words come out in a broken whisper from beside him. “If I hadn’t –”

“Don’t,” Bucky says quietly, almost like a warning, as he turns to Peter. The boy is still in his suit, not holding his emotions back like everyone else is trying to do.

It feels like looking into a mirror for Barnes, Peter’s emotions mimicking his own. The ones he’s keeping buried.

He’s broken.

Lost.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Barnes continues, staring down at Parker. “It was accident. She did what she did to save you.”

Peter glances up at the dark-haired man, his eyes bloodshot from tears, “But I couldn’t save her.”

Bucky doesn’t have a response as he glances back to your lifeless body on the table inside the room, watching while Steve angrily flips a small table close to him. Vials and beakers flying and shattering across the floor.

***

He knows the cost.

Hydra had dealt with them in the past.

It wasn’t a guarantee, but he has to at least try.

For Steve.

The thought of losing you – never again seeing the way your eyes light up when you smile at Steve or never again hearing the sound of your laugh echo through the gym at the compound – he just can’t.

He remembers the first day he met you. Wakanda. You had shown up with Steve and Sam – a new asset assigned by Fury. There was something about you.

“She the new asset?” he had asked his friend as Sam introduced you to Shuri.

“Yea, she’s good,” the smile on Steve’s face told Bucky it was too late. He was watching you interact with T��Challa like a schoolboy – lovesick.

Barnes knew then that the line was drawn.

So, this – this he is doing for Steve.

Because there is no other reason.

There can be no other reason.

There’s a line.

Steve cares for you.

He can’t.

***

“What do we do?” Natasha asks quietly of Tony as they stand on the other side of the large window, looking into the lab.

The lights are down, the grey stainless-steel table in the center of the room a cold, hard contrast to you. Ethereal beauty lying on top, hands at your side, stealth suit in perfect condition, you could be sleeping, but your skin tells a different story. Pale and lifeless, lips drained of color, no longer perfect and pink, now a wretched blue tint.

Dead and lovely.

Steve sits near the table with his shoulders slouched forward, head bowed. He hasn’t left since they brought your body in. Leaving means admitting that you’re really gone, and this isn’t real.  

It can’t be real.

“I don’t know,” Tony says with a despondent shake of his head. “Where’s the kid?”

“With Barnes and Wilson.”

“He’s with Sam,” Bucky says quietly from the other end of the hall. “Stark.” A simple tilt of his head indicates to Tony that he needs a word with him, and Natasha watches them curiously as they walk farther down the hallway.

***

You were infectious and watching Steve fall for you was both beautiful and painful. He knew to keep his distance. That he couldn’t afford to let you close to him. Steve meant too much to him.

He’s on his knees, burying the small wooden box in the shallow hole he’s dug in the middle of the dirt road. It’s hardly traveled anymore, but it will suffice for what he’s needing. You’d be so angry if you knew what he was doing.

But he’d give anything to have you yell at him again.

He can remember the first time you stood your ground against him – so bold.

“That was reckless,” he yelled across the quinjet.

“I had it under control,” you stated firmly, glancing to Sam, who stood beside you.

“We had a plan,” Bucky folded his arms across his chest. “You could have gotten one of us killed.”

Something clicked inside your mind at his statement and you took a menacing step forward, “I did exactly what you would have done. What’s your problem Barnes?”

His eyes narrowed at your brazenness, but he’d known you were right, “I can’t work with someone I don’t trust.” It was just words – words he’d knew would push you away. That’s what he needed though.

He wasn’t mad about the mission.

Or your actions.

It was something else.

Last night, he’d saw you in the gym with him. He should have left once he realized Steve’s hand was inside your sweatpants, not watched the intimate moment between the two of you.

It was wrong.

Twisted.

But he couldn’t look away. Your soft, breathy moans were like a siren’s song – captivating – he watched his best friend unravel you. The way your chest shuttered as your fingernails dug into his arm. Your face – the look of pure ecstasy – the most beautiful he’d ever seen you look.

If he was Steve – he’d want to see you look like that – always.

But he wasn’t Steve and he knew it was wrong to think that.

To have that vision of you with him later, in the quiet of his own room as he found his own release.

“Your soul for her life?” the man in the black suit questions Bucky, standing in front of him at the crossroads. “She must be pretty special to you Mr. Barnes, or do you still go by the other moniker? What was it – The G.I. Snowman?”

“Do we have a deal or not Crowley?” Bucky says, obviously annoyed with the demon in front of him.

***

You awake with a jolt, neurons and synapses firing all at once, blood coursing through your veins with a heartbeat twice as fast as normal. Your body regulating itself out internally, as externally you stare at the fluorescent lighting above you.

How are you awake right now?

The fall.

You had felt it.

Everything.

You had died.

Lifting your arms slowly you move to sit up on the cold, stainless steel table. There’s a flurry of motion out of the corner of your eye and warm, supportive hands are on your shoulders.

“Hey – easy,” Steve’s voice is soft as you wrap your hands around the edge of the table.

“What – what’s going on?” the confusion on your face evident as you look over at him.

“I’ll explain,” there’s relief in his eyes and pure joy as he stares at you.

There’s more movement in the room and suddenly there’s a hand on your knee. You turn your head slowly to look Peter, his face and eyes red and blotchy from tears. His voice cracks, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His arms are around you, pulling you close, clinging to you as if you’ll slip away again. “So sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you manage to breathe into the red fabric as you drape an arm around him.

Glancing past his shoulder you can see Tony standing there and he smiles at you warmly, with a touch of remorse. You pull away from Peter, glancing from Tony to Steve, as your heartrate increases with the growing dread in your stomach.

“What did you do?” you question in a quiet, accusatory tone.

“You’re alive,” Steve’s fingers touch your face gingerly, as if you’ll disappear just as quickly as you had come back. “That’s all that matters.”

“How?” you question. Peter drops his head and you see Tony’s eyes glance down at the floor. “Tony, how?”

***

The knock on his door surprises him and as he opens it, his body tenses, because one look at you and it’s obvious you know. Dammit Tony. There’s a storm of emotions raging in your eyes.

Anger.

Confusion.

Guilt.

But at least you’re alive.

“Why?” the word slips coldly from your lips. He holds your gaze for a moment before turning and walking away. You close the door behind you, angrily following him. “No. You don’t get to walk away.” You watch his shoulders slowly rise and fall as he takes a deep breath before you continue your ranting, “Most days you don’t even like me, Barnes. We’re hardly friends. Why would you do that?”

He finally turns, hands gripping the back of his desk chair as he keeps his eyes focused on the floor, “Because Steve –”

“No,” you practically snarl. Every word venomous as you rush him, closing the distance between you. Hands shoving against his chest roughly, forcing him to acknowledge your presence. “Don’t fucking say his name. You selfish –” Barnes stumbles a little as you shove him again. All the rage coursing through you makes you a bit stronger than usual. You slam clenched fists against his chest again, “You weren’t thinking of him. He cares about you too.”

“He loves you,” it falls from his lips in a heartbreaking whisper as his hands grab your wrists tightly, stopping your assault on him.

Your eyes drop to the hands on you. A painfully beautiful contrast of warm flesh and cold vibranium, much like the two of them. Swallowing the lump in your throat you glance up, eyes brimming with hot, angry tears, “Did you do it for him – or you?”

His tongue slips across his bottom lip – an anxious habit – as he glances away from you, releasing the grip he has on your wrists. You fold your arms across your chest, an effort to subdue yourself from attacking him anymore.

“Bucky, tell me.”

His name sounds sweet rolling off your tongue – innocent. He’d rather you be pissed off.

Fight him.

Make it hurt.

He deserves it.

Hates himself for this, but he could only push you away for so long until you started pushing back. His gaze shifts back to yours, “Don’t make me answer that.”

The look in his eyes is the only response you need, “How long did you get?”

“Ten years.”

“Does Steve know?” your tone is calloused. “About the deal?”

“No,” he replies. “Only Tony. Everyone else thinks it’s some sort of secret Hydra serum.”

Glancing away from him as you contemplate the situation you nod slightly, “Okay.” Then turn abruptly, walking back toward his door.

“Where you going?” he questions, your sudden change in demeanor surprising him.

You turn to look at him coldly, “It wasn’t your place to save me.”

“You were dead,” his voice rising with contempt as he stalks after you. “Died saving the kid. You think he could live with that?” Peter hasn’t crossed your mind. You’ve been too angry with Barnes. “The kind of irreparable damage that would have done to him.” He’s all but towering over you. “What I did was fucking selfish.” His tone dropping to almost a whisper as his eyes search yours. “But I’d do it again.”

You can see the storm raging in his eyes, much like your own. All the anger, guilt, and confusion swirling upon itself.

All this time.

He hasn’t hated you.

Hesitantly you lift your hand to his face, the stubble on his jaw prickly against your palm. At first, he tenses but then softens, eyes closed as his head leans into your hand. Touch-starved is an understatement.

Seeing his reaction does something to you.

You can’t explain it.

But you know it’s wrong.

You lean up, pressing your lips against his gently, instantly feeling the restraint there. He doesn’t move away though.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you pull back slightly, your thumb caressing his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” his words are hot against your lips.

“Me too,” you reply softly, before kissing the corner of his mouth. You move away then, before you do something else you’ll regret.

You love Steve, you really do, but Bucky had given his soul up for you.

That makes things complicated.

You never wanted complicated.

Didn’t ask for it.

Funny what death does to a person.

[ghostyprince]

title: baby, you’re my good luck charm

rating: T fandom: BuzzF. Uns. relationship: Ryan B./Shane M. word count: 3.9k

summary: “Shane breaks a mirror at a haunted house and subsequently has the worst luck for a week.” a prompt by  @dailyshyan  

[ Read on AO3 ]

“Holy shit! Did you hear that?”

“The wind? Yeah.” Shane turned to his frightened friend with an amused look. They barely arrived at this supposedly haunted location and his friend was already freaking out over nothing, like usually. It was an abandoned house, that the previous owner never bothered to finish properly, surrounded by only woods and a road stretching in front of it, where they parked Ryan’s car. It was in the middle of nowhere basically.

All bare walls, and grimy flooring, and that disgusting moldy smell, that usually got stuck in his nostrils for a few hours at least. According to his friend’s research, they did quite a lot of “satanic rituals” here, but nothing fancy. A few teens messing around, thinking they saw demons or something. If you asked Shane, it was a bunch of bullcrap. Yet, here he was, investigating with his best friend.

They haven’t brought cameras on this trip, they wanted to check out the place first, to see if it was even worth to make into a whole episode of Unsolved. In Shane’s opinion, it really wasn’t. He sure could spend this beautiful Saturday night better. Like sleeping, or watching some movies with Ryan along with a big bowl of popcorn as they often did. Ugh, he really missed his bed too.

Though, Ryan being a scaredy cat never failed to lift his mood a little.

“Wind? That sounded like a moan!” Ryan scoffed, scanning the corner of the room with his flashlight, where he suspected the origin of the strange noise came from. He swears he heard something! Of course, there was absolutely nothing there, just ugly, concrete colored walls, peppered with mysterious stains and graffiti saying things like “Dave + Hannah” in a heart, or “suck my dick Jess”. What a lovely place.

“Maybe the ghosties were having sex, and we rudely interrupted them,” answered Shane, chuckling, making Ryan laugh too.

“They – they’re what?! I don’t think that’s how ghosts work, you know.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe they’re having an afterlife ghost orgy.” Shane said, and both of them giggled, Ryan shook his head slightly, already feeling calmer. Yeah, Shane always knew when to make stupid jokes to calm his nerves a bit.

“Yeah, definitely. Is that what you’d do as a ghost?”

“I mean, I'd think it's boring as hell, being a ghost. What would they do here all day in this shithole?”

Ryan laughed half-heartedly and agreed, then scanned the room a bit more. The only two windows were dark, gaping holes on the back walls, framed by worn out, splintered wood that was once covered in thin, white paint. The whole house was rather more depressing than haunted. Though, Ryan didn’t think it that way, or else they wouldn’t be there.

A shiver ran down the smaller man’s spine, causing him to grip his flashlight, with whitening fingertips. Well, that was creepy. Considering the windows, it actually may have been the wind, but who knows. A ghost may have passed through him for all he knows, which freaks him out even more. God, fuck this place.

“I hate this place.” Ryan groaned out his thoughts, taking a few steps towards the only other room in the building, making sure he shined the flashlight through the doorway first. Goosebumps were already raising on his arms, he leaned in the doorframe carefully. His brain already made up shadows in the dark which were not really there, but they terrified him regardless.

“It’s not very homey indeed.” Shane chimed up behind him, his friend jumped slightly. How could he be so calm, when  Ryan is constantly on edge, is completely beyond him. Shane peeked into the room, eyes still adjusting to the cutting darkness.

They noticed a few discarded beer bottles and a wooden chair, with a broken front leg. Other than that, just more trash and graffiti. Watching their steps, they shuffled into the room together, Ryan immediately noticed the temperature drop, he gasped quietly.

“Dude, it’s way colder here than out there! There’s not even a fucking window here.”

Shane shrugged a little. “I don’t feel anything, man. It’s just as cold here as it is out there.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Ryan stopped scanning the floor and lifted his flashlight to look at the walls and corners. As he gazed up, he noticed something – no, more like someone staring right at him.

Ryan jumps back with a loud yelp, heart beating crazy fast in his chest. He thinks he will pass out for a moment. Just as he was ready to properly freak out, the realization hit him. Wait a minute. It was just a mirror.

Oh.

“Watch out, Ryan! The demon was you all along!” Shane snickered beside him, he obviously found the situation hilarious. Asshole.

“Shut up, Shane!” Ryan jokingly shoved his friend, unable to fight the smile on his lips. Shane barely lost his balance, chuckling, which abruptly ended when his left foot slipped on an empty and crushed soda can, sending him tumbling backward.

The slightly lifted frame of the mirror painfully digging between his shoulder blades that’ll probably leave a bruise. He let out a hiss, catching himself on the wall while Ryan reached for his arm, not quite catching him.

“Fuck, sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” He was about to make another joke, when a huge crash at his feet interrupted him, making Shane jump back, just like Ryan did minutes ago. “Whoa!”

The mirror slid down the wall, and flopped on the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The nail keeping it in place presumably came out.

“Well, shit.”

They decided on getting the hell out of there before something worse happens, the place was stupid anyway. They made their way to the car in silence, both a bit lost in thought. Shane was very tired. It was almost two in the morning, he just wanted to take a shower and go the fuck to sleep.

The whole building left him feeling gross and filthy. Dust stuck to his skin, and his clothes, the moldy smell still lingering in his nose just like he thought it would. Fuck ghost-hunting.

Ryan only spoke when they were both in the car, ready to go. He gently bumped their shoulders together, making Shane smile.

That was almost domestic. They were like this, lately. It made his heart ache a little, so he turned, to stare out the window instead. Nope, not thinking about that now, he thought, planning to get some sleep on the way to his house, to distract himself.

“You’re gonna have bad luck for seven years, dude.”

“I – What?” Shane glanced at his friend, confused for a second before his sleep-deprived brain made the connection. Ah, the mirror. He snorted. “Don’t tell me, you believe in that.”

“I’m just saying, man” Ryan shrugged, staring at the road as they left the eerie house. They sure as hell won’t go back there.

***

Monday came sooner than Shane would’ve thought, and he was awfully late. 9:04 AM already, and he wasn’t even fully awake yet.

Shitty alarm. He hurriedly put on some pants he found on the floor, hoping they were clean and did not even look what he pulled out of his closet, not even bothering to slam it shut. It was a plaid shirt, so it’ll do.

He washed his teeth while attempting to button up the shirt, failing miserably and dripping some toothpaste on it in the process. His phone gone off in his pocket, the text sound making him jolt slightly.  

I have no time for this, dammit! He checked it anyway while rushing out the door and calling an Uber simultaneously. Truly a talent at multitasking.

where the hell are you?? – R

on my way – S

Just as he was pressing the elevator button, it hit him that he forgot to lock the apartment door. Fuck.  

He could catch a breather in the Uber, luckily the guy wasn’t the talkative type. Shane didn’t think he could’ve kept up a normal, human conversation after that disaster of a morning.

What the fuck happened to his alarm? It usually never fails to go off. So weird. His phone chirped again, and he fished it out of his jean’s pocket.

boss was pretty pissed – R i told him you feel sick but you’ll still come in – R try to act as dead as possible – R

God, what would he do without Ryan? His heart gave a little stammer at the thought, he exhaled slowly. Yeah, he should actually address his feelings towards Ryan.

Shane couldn’t even tell when it started, it was just there. In every little smile and laugh they shared, or in those movie nights, they spent on Ryan’s or his couch. Even though it was confusing, it was so natural, and even nice sometimes. They fit together so effortlessly.

That feeling quickly evolved from “Ryan’s pretty cute” to “God I want to kiss him”. Shane’s brain didn’t even catch up fully yet. He was still caught off-guard by it sometimes, like now.

thanks man you’re the best – S

<3 – R

The thing is, sometimes, Shane thought these feelings might not be as unrequited as he let himself think.  Sometimes Ryan smiled and looked at him this sweet way like he’s the Sun or something like that.

It always filled him with warmth. Shane noticed every lingering gaze, and even those few occasions of Ryan glancing at his lips when he thought the taller man wasn’t paying attention.

Little did he know, he stared at Ryan just as much. It’s pretty hard to avoid looking at your crush when you basically work in the same personal space.

God, he had a crush on Ryan. He was so fucked.

***

Shane caught Ryan’s glance as soon as he stepped into their office, heartrate climbing as their eyes found each other. By the time he plopped down on the right of his friend, they both had matching smiles.

“What’s up with you, dude? You’re never late.” the smaller one turned to him immediately.

“Good morning to you too.” Shane’s smile turned into a smirk, knowing he’ll make Ryan flustered and he was absolutely right. Ryan just murmured back a “morning” awkwardly. “I don’t know man, my alarm was not going off. How much trouble am I in with the big guys up there?”

“It’s fine, I told them you were throwing up all morning.”

“Gross, thanks, Ry’” He scrunched up his nose, that turned into a laugh. Ryan grinned at him beautifully. Keep it together Madej.

“Hey, you should be grateful I saved your ass!”

“You’re right, you’re right. Let me fetch you a coffee as a sign of my gratitude, alright?” Shane winked at him, purely enjoying the view of his friend’s slightly rosy cheeks before he got up.

Ten minutes later, he’s been maneuvering back with two cups to their desks when he ran into Steven, full force, which results in half a cup of pretty hot coffee ending up on his shirt.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” Steven winced at Shane’s painful groan.

“No, I probably ran into you. It’s fine, I’m fine.” Shane managed, his shirt already absorbing the beverage. Can this day get any shittier?

He sat back at his desk, setting the somewhat intact another cup of coffee in front of Ryan. Because he’s a good friend like that. He grabbed some tissues from his bag to wipe off as much as he can of the now cooled out drink on his shirt.

“Just drink it, dude, you need it more.” Ryan wheezed and got up to get one for himself too.

Ryan’s a good friend like that too, his mind mused as he sipped on his coffee and turned on his Mac.

***

Tomorrow, it’s Tuesday and Shane’s alarm had mercy on him, he managed to get up in time. The day didn’t seem to start out so bad. He got dressed without problems, he got plenty of time to get to work, everything was nice.

He was even thinking about trying to talk to Ryan about this whole thing between them. Should he just confess? What if he misread the other’s intentions? This could easily ruin Unsolved, their whole friendship, most importantly. Maybe–

He landed chest and face first on the floor, with a loud bang as soon as he stepped out of his apartment. Yep, definitely not a good day. Grumbling, he sat up, to look at what in the fuck caused him to faceplant the floor. It was a pretty decently sized brown box. Upon reading the name and address, he found out it didn’t even belong to him. So much for almost breaking his ankle.

The package was his neighbor’s who lived in the opposite apartment, so Shane slid it in front of the guy’s door and well, if it had a dent, he had nothing to do with it.

***

“Hey, big guy!”

“You’re way too cheery. You need to stop.” Shane deadpanned.

“Wow, okay, rude.” Ryan grinned at him, not taking Shane seriously at all, even for a moment.

That’s why Shane loved him so much. Sleepy thoughts like that definitely raised some problems, but for now, he just placed his glasses on his nose. Only if its left temple wouldn’t have fallen off as soon as he did that. It landed on the desk with a comical ‘clank’. Shane slowly exhaled through his nose still staring at the blank screen of his laptop.

Ryan, - bless his heart - actually tried not to laugh, he only let out a stifled snort as the other man turned to him, glasses still half-hanging off his face.

God, he was beautiful, Shane thought. The corners of his eyes crinkling and biting his lips to contain the laughter that was bubbling up his throat. Shane’s heart fluttered, however, he still managed to keep a straight face.

“Go on, It’s cool. I don’t have any dignity left.” his friend let out a full wheezy laugh, Shane himself giggling too. At this point, what else can he do?

“What– What happened?” Ryan snickered, barely able to contain himself. His taller friend took off the broken glasses and tossed them aside on the desk.

“I must have crushed it when I fell this morning.” he sighed, looking for the extra pair in his bag. Of course, this is the day he left the spare at home. He dropped the bag on the floor in defeat, he felt a headache coming on later.

“You fell?”

“I tripped on an Amazon package,” Shane muttered, a bit embarrassed, Ryan laughed at him again.

“I’m not even surprised, you’re like 80% legs, dude.”

“I get it, I suck. Could you please bring me a coffee? I don’t trust these freaky limbs.” He wiggled his arms for emphasis, something he cringed at as soon as he did it, but for seeing Ryan’s stupid smile it was kind of worth it.

“So, what’s up with you lately?” Sara leaned on his desk, just behind the laptop, looking down at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You literally can’t even stand up without something going wrong. You were never this clumsy.” She joked, maybe a bit concerned too. She’s really one of the sweetest people from their office.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I just have really bad luck lately, I guess.” Shane tried to shrug it off, Ryan’s statement about the mirror worming its way into his brain. If he has to live 7 years like this, he might as well jump out a window. Not like he believes this whole “curse” thing anyway. It makes no fucking sense.

“Alright then, what’s up with you and Ryan?” she changed the subject, earning a puzzled look from her friend.

“Again, what do you mean?”

“Did you tell him you like him yet, dumbass?” Sara smirked, lowering her voice, this conversation is just for the two of them.

“How do you even–? It’s way more complicated than you think.” he tried to drop the conversation. Definitely not in the mood for pondering on his feelings for one of his best friends.

“I have eyes, Shane. Whatever, big guy, I’m just saying you should confess before you accidentally trip and die or he gives up on waiting for you.” Sara smiles, brushing his shoulder briefly, before moving back to her desk.

Ryan placed his coffee on his desk somewhat more forcefully than he expected. Still did not spill thought. He seemed way grumpier than a few minutes ago.

“Something happened?” Shane asked curiously, squinting at the monitor in front of him. Damn, he needs his glasses. Would it be stupid to try and tape it together? Probably. Engrossed in his work, he almost missed Ryan’s quiet reply.

“Nope. Nothing.”

Shane nodded slightly, and let silence settle around them, but Ryan’s spoke again, with some edge in his voice.

“How’s Sara?”

Yeah, maybe they should talk.

***

By the time Thursday rolled around, Shane hated his life. A whole lot. Everything that could’ve gone wrong, it surely did. He burned his mouth twice with coffee and splashed it on himself again because the universe loved to torment him.

He lost two-three hours of hard work on Wednesday. He was very close to actually crying.

Not to mention, every single time he wanted to have a conversation with Ryan about the Thing between them, someone just had to interfere. They talked about Unsolved, and anything else, but as soon as he tried to steer the conversation towards the Thing, someone ruined it.

Eugene showing him something, Zack needing him because of work, or Jen coming up to chat with them. Shane doesn’t really believe in fate but something up there really hated his guts. His nerves were pretty frayed by now.

“Dude, I told you it’s because of the mirror!”

“Superstitions are not real, Ryan. Just because I broke an object it doesn’t mean I have seven years of bad luck now.” Shane rolled his eyes at him.

“Well, it looks pretty real to me. How else do you explain this sudden bad luck?” his friend retorted.

“I just have a shitty week, that’s it.”

“This shitty? No way!”

“And it’s not even you who has to go through this crap, so, please. Stop trying to convince me it was the stupid mirror!” Shane snapped at him before he could stop himself. He’s really not on the top of this confessing thing, is he?

“Jeez fine, I’m sorry.” Ryan huffed, turning back to his editing work.

“I’m sorry too. These few days really had a toll on me, to be honest.” he absentmindedly stared at their latest Post Mortem that Ryan was working on. He had a lot of fun, as always. Both of them did.

“I figured. Wanna watch a movie tomorrow? My place?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

***

Friday night was something he undeniably was looking forward to. Even when he actually got up an hour earlier to shave because he didn’t trust himself with a razor this week. (Still managed to cut himself twice, but nothing serious thank God.) Or when he almost bit off the tip of his tongue eating lunch.

“You haven’t had any accidents involving coffee today, I’m proud of you.” Ryan joked when they were gathering their stuff.

“Very funny. It’s only like 4 PM, I can still get hit by one of those Café trucks.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely plausible.” snorted Ryan as they walked towards the exit together.

“After the week I had, I think everything is plausible. I never thought I would say this but… Ryan, I– I  think ghosts might be real!” Shane feigned shock, looking at his friend with bulging eyes.

“Shut up, you big dork!” he wheezed, slapping Shane on the arm.

***

“I think my bad luck is rubbing off on you,” Shane said, as they stood in front of the elevator in the building of Ryan’s apartment.

“I swear it worked this morning!” The smaller one pushed the button again, irritated. Just like the first three times, it did nothing.

“Let’s just take the stairs, it’s fine,” Shane suggested, grabbing Ryan’s arm, gently tugging his friend towards the stairs. His touch lingered, and they just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other. Ryan took a step towards him and slowly nodded.

As it turned out on the second floor, it wasn’t really that fine. Shane probably looked like he was drunk. He tripped over his own feet, the stairs, or just nothing in general. By the time they got to the fourth floor, he was out of breath and very done. Wow, he should really go to the gym more.

“I don’t even think this is bad luck anymore, you just can’t control your Bigfoot feet.” Ryan giggled, of course, he was totally fine.

“I’m genuinely surprised this railing is not taller than you, but okay.”

“That joke sucked, and you know it, asshole!”

“Yeah, yeah just open the door, I’m too old for this shit. I can’t wait to sit down.”

Ryan looked back at him with the sweetest grin, and Shane was breathless again, not so much because of the stairs anymore. He was absolutely smitten.

“Actually, wait!” His mouth said, without the permission of his brain when Ryan slipped the key into the lock.

Ryan raised his eyebrows at him, curious and amused at the same time. Shane wordlessly stepped in front of him, right into his personal space. He heard the other man’s breath hitch softly, their eye contact still going strong.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all week about this. But this was a disaster and I’m not really prepared but I just have to put this out there. I really like you, Ryan. I don’t know if this,” he gestured between them briefly. “could work or not, but I want to try. I know there are a lot of risks, but frankly, I don’t give a shit if I can be with you.”

“And– And  if I didn’t misread the signs, I hope you want this too.” He finished, still breathless, and a little flustered. That’s probably more than he talked all day, especially about his feelings. But fuck it.

Ryan stares back at him, stunned, with big dark eyes. What a sight. He licks his lips before he speaks, weary.

“I like you too. A lot actually.” A relieved smile spread across Shane’s face, Ryan continued. “I do want to try,” he paused for a moment, eyes never leaving Shane’s. “whatever this is.

“Can I kiss you?” Still no sign of any brain to mouth filter, but he was just so happy. He wasn’t this relaxed all fucking week. Shane watched Ryan swallow thickly and stutter out an answer.

“Y– Yeah, okay.”

That’s all Shane needed, he grabbed the smaller man’s collar and pulled him up while rapidly leaned down himself to press their mouths together. Too rapidly, it turned out as their foreheads and then teeth painfully met half-way and left them both groaning. Not the good kind of groaning.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Half-chuckling and half-dying of embarrassment Shane buried his face in Ryan’s neck. It already made his back ache, but at the moment he couldn’t care less. “I can’t believe I just headbutted you, oh my god.”

Ryan started laughing into his shoulder, fingers curling around Shane’s hand, his voice is nothing more than a promising whisper. “How about this for now?”

Shane’s head is swimming, because wow, Ryan is (probably) his boyfriend now. They need to talk about that a little more. But for now, this is enough. He nodded lightly and squeezed the other man’s hand.

Yeah, this could work. They could work.

[ourghoststories]

Prowling Phantom Pt 6

Warnings: Death?, Fluff, Violence

Word Count: 1,150+

Three days she had been unconscious… three days of pure hell and worrying… three days of absolute misery and sadness.

I hadn’t been eating or sleeping at all, coffee had been my best friend and I was puffy from crying.

I was sitting next to my everything and holding her hand, Nat walked in with a cup of coffee “this is for you, I’m going to get you some food” she said, with a worried expression.

We hadn’t talked since I found her, it wasn’t her fault I just wasn’t in the right moodset “Tasha, please don’t worry about me” I silently begged.

“Nonsense, you saved me. What are friends for” she smiled, even though she contradicted herself by frowning.

“I…” I started but failed to find the words, before I stood up to face Nat.

“Do you- know what happened to her- to Gemma?” I gulped dryly.

“They did something to her… Hours before you came… They- they injected her with something and used some sort of radiation on her, she was screaming for hours and hours for you… she wanted her mum” Tasha explained, looking out the window.

“I should’ve been there for her… I was busy trying to provide for her and look what’s happened” I said sadly, starting to sob.

Tasha embraced me and rubbed my back, this was unusual as she didn’t show affection to people much, only her very close friends, which lightened my mood a small bit; I could feel her lips pressing against my head as my head was rested on her shoulder.

“Tasha… what happens if-“ I sobbed but was cut off by Gemma’s heartrate monitor beating at one pitch, and that only meant one thing.

“No- NO!” I screamed and Nat held me back. 

“you need to get out of here” a nurse instructed and Nat carried me out of the hospital room in a hysterical state.

Everyone was looking at me but I didn’t care, my poor little baby girl was dying and I couldn’t deal with it at all.

“PLEASE NAT I NEED TO BE WITH HER!” I screamed, using every inch of my body.

She took me into a small soundproof room to the side of the hospital corridor and locked the door behind her, she put me on the couch, I stared into her green eyes and cried.

I cried and cried until the tears just stopped and I was left making sounds that resembled that of a dying animal. 

“This isn’t going to help anyone, you need to be strong for her” Nat said, not daring to make eye contact with me.

That’s when the panic set in, I realised what was happening and suddenly the silence became white noise and it was deafening, “I can’t…” I croaked out, collapsing onto the floor.

The beating of my heart accelerated, I started sweating profusely, ringing consumed my ears and took over from my thoughts, so I moved my hands up to my ears in an attempt to block out the noise.

My brain was making the noise, the thoughts were swarming me and I couldn’t handle it, “Help me… please” I said softly as I felt myself fade out of reality.

The all too familiar sound of beeping filled my ears, I jolted awake and started to panic, then Nat placed her hand on mine and immediately I calmed right down “I’m sorry Nat, that wasn’t fair. I just- I don’t know what happened- I couldn’t…” I explained.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself. They forgot about the bullet and stitched you up, you’ve been out for a while” she said smiling apologetically down at the ground. 

Suddenly there was a huge bang and all of the power went out “what the-“.

A nurse rushed in “something’s happening to your daughter” she puffed.

I got up and ran, following the nurse into the room, she was glowing a bright hue of purple “Gemma?!” I yelled, how was she still alive. 

“She’s been relapsing, her heart keeps stopping and starting w- we used the defibrillators for the third time and this is how she reacted” the nurse said, freaking out.

Her eyes opened and they were a golden colour, she stayed still and looked angry, I approached Gemma slowly “hey, little dove, I need you to calm down for me, yeah?” I soothed. 

“Maman, qu’est-ce qui se passe? Òu suis-je? Qui sont toutes ces personnes?” she said in a frightened tone, she was shaking noticeably.

(mum, what’s happening? Where am i? who are all these people)

“pêche, ils vont ont fait quelque chose. Vous devez vous calmer ou ça va empirer” I smiled sadly, pulling her into a hug.

(peach, they did something to you. You need to calm down or it’ll get worse)

“tout va bien, je ne te blesserai pas” Nat said softly.

(it’s alright little one, I won’t hurt you)

“is this Nat, mama?” Gemma asked, the glow suddenly subsiding and her eyes turning back to their usual shade of green.

I chuckled, looking at the ground “yes dove, it is”.

“You’ve talked to her about me?” Tasha asked, raising her eyebrows in shock.

By now Gemma was smiling, I nodded shyly, “the doctors are going to do some tests on you princesse” Nat explained.

The doctors ran different tests, blood tests, x-rays, brain scans and ultrasounds, Gemma looked exhausted; If Nat or I weren’t around her she would start to get anxious and start glowing again.

I was out in the hall with Nat, Gemma- luckily –was fast asleep “Tasha… You really don’t need to worry about Gemma and I, we’ll make it through” I said, looking out onto the horizon.

“Hey, I care about you- and Gemma” Nat admitted.

“I’ve never seen you like that you know, around Gemma… It was- nice, you were very affectionate” I smiled, blushing a bit.

It made my heart warm to see that they were taking a liking to each other, Gemma had known about my crush on Tasha for a while, but I didn’t expect Nat to be so welcoming to her- after all she could be a bit emotionless and intimidating.

“What can I say, I have a soft spot for her… I’m sorry” she gulped.

“what for?” I asked, turning to face her.

“I- arguing with you… It was stupid, I thought you were…” she said seriously, but then suddenly stopped.

“go on, you thought I was?” I encouraged, curious to hear what she had to say.

“seeing someone, I thought you were in a relationship” she mumbled and I could feel my heart drop. 

“Nat… You could’ve talked to me, I understand you usually come to conclusions and they’re right but it doesn’t hurt to ask… But, I forgive you- I thought I made that clear when I saved you” I chuckled, looking into her emerald green eyes.

A/N---

IM SO SORRY I DIDNT UPDATE YESTERDAY, I hurt my arm and will probably be out of action for a while, I'm glad I've pre-written. a few chapters... I had to go to the hospital and luckily my elbow isn’t broken!

I PROMISE IT’LL GET MORE ROMANTIC-ISH IN THE NEXT CHAPTER and once again I hope you enjoy this one