#Now everyone is like 'yeah sounds like something they'd say'

[lemon-berri]

Perfume (pt 2)

Satoru has been quiet today. Gone is the usual chatter, the jokes about how his day went. He watches you silently, eyes swimming with a well of emotions.

Every so often, he opens his mouth like he's going to say something. Only to pause, and retreat back into himself.

Life without you for this long has left him broken. He is tired, a husk of a man just going through the motions of daily life. Every day that he wakes without you by his side, he feels a deep, agonising pain in his chest. Like someone has taken out a vital organ and he's fighting to survive.

But he puts on a brave face, for his students, for his friends. For you. He talks to you in a happy tone whenever he visits, just in case you can hear him. Because he doesn't want you to worry unnecessarily.

Though, knowing you, you'd see right through his act.

His eyes trail across the room to the window, he can't tell you this. At least not while he looks at you.

"I had another meeting with the higher ups today.."

Again, hes met with silence. The only response is the gentle sound of your breathing. He has no idea if you're listening but he goes on.

"It's been three months without you now. In case you haven't been keeping track." There's a chuckle, but there's no humour behind it. Rather it's a dark, hopeless sound. "I've been refusing all overseas missions, how can I go anywhere knowing you're...." he can't find the right words. You're not exactly hurt, there's no physical injuries on you. Sleeping seems too simple. Coma too medical -and saying it out loud would make this nightmare too real.

His crystal eyes flit back towards you, only to move down to the floor.

"The pressure built up. They've ordered me to go. I'll be leaving tomorrow, and I'll be gone a week."

"But don't worry. You won't be alone. Everyone promised they'd come to visit you, I made sure of it. I wouldn't want my angel to get lonely without me, yeah?" Satoru tries another chuckle, but this one comes out more like a sob, and he quickly covers his mouth.

He's torn up. He doesn't want to leave your bedside, he'd rather watch the world burn than leave your side. But duty calls, and your friends promised they'd be here. Shoko promised she'd keep him updated too, in case there were any changes.

Satoru is quiet for a little longer, looking at you now, the way your pretty lashes brush against your skin, the way your lips part ever so gently. You're so beautiful it hurts, and the guilt in his stomach is making him feel sick. But he has to go.

Finally, he gets up, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. He refuses to say goodbye. In his mind, he'll be right back. Instead, he says.

"I love you."

Its not enough to describe the way he feels.

There are so many stairs. Too many stairs. You've gone up at least five thousand steps so far- in a winding tower that seems to stretch for eternity. But you're not tired. Because your physical form isn't here.

You've managed to figure out that this endless tower must be your consciousness. Every time you open a door, a different memory plays out in front of you like a scene in a play, and you quickly close it. The stones are strong, rough and cold. They've been through a lot, but will no doubt last for years to come.

Though you can't figure out where that floral smell is coming from.

You're not here to relive your memories though. You're not here by choice at all. By now you've figured out you're a prisoner in your own mind. And your captor..?

You hear it every so often, a distant growl, followed by a crack.

Tick.

Tick.

BANG.

The sound is one of a wall being broken, and your head pounds, like you've lost some vital part of your very being.

The cursed spirit has somehow managed to trap you within your own consciousness. And it actively seems to be attempting to destroy your mind, your memories.

A weaker person would've succumbed by now, faded into nothing. But you're fighting it. For each mental brick knocked down you put up another. This will not be your end. You will survive. You have to.

You have too much to lose.

If only you could find the wretched creature and finally exorcise it.

You pause to listen, leaning your back against the cold stone wall of the tower. Time passes weirdly in here and you're sure by now people in the real world must be getting worried about you. Your guess is that you must've been in here for at least an entire day.

Tick.

Tick.

Crack.

BANG.

Its not use. No matter how far you ascend it always sounds like it's coming from above you. Yet when you look up you're only met with more stairs, fading away into unknown darkness. Your gaze falls downwards instead, into the void from which you came- the stairs you've already climbed. It would be so easy to give in.. to just go back down.

The darkness beckons you. It's warm arms wrap around your limbs, it's peaceful silence calling out to you. And you feel yourself stepping towards it. But then something catches your eye.

An elaborate ring on your left hand, glimmering in the darkness. Aquamarine, like a certain pair of eyes as familiar to you as the sky, a sight like an endless ocean, your favourite sight in the world. A smile. A voice.

"I love you"

His voice. It rings out across the empty space. You stop moving.

Satoru... You can't give up. Not when he's waiting for you.

Youre sprinting across the stairs now, faster and faster. Weightless with your new found determination. Theres no pain, no fear. You'll survive because you have to.

Finally there's a light, the tower opens at the top into a rotunda- nothing but an endless, cloudless sky stretching beyond. This must be it, the very core of your soul.

A hiss sounds behind you, and you whip around, already ready to attack.

You will survive.

Satoru gets back from a long day of trying to track down a special grade. So out of it that he doesn't even remember what country he's in.

Singapore? Sri Lanka? It was something with an "S" anyway.

He flops his full weight down onto the hotel bed, letting out a deep exhale. His limbs stretch out, and his heavy eyelids start to close, when he hears a buzz.

The man groans, long limbs turning lethargically. He reaches for his phone, cracking one eye open lazily to look. Who could be contacting him at this time anyway-

He almost drops the phone on his face.

23 missed calls from Shoko.

His tiredness evaporates, and he sits up instantly, fumbling with his phone to quickly call her back. As soon as Shoko picks up he starts talking.

"Shoko. Hi. What is it? Is everything alright? Is she okay-"

"Satoru." Shoko interrupts him. "She's awake."

Pt1

I wasn't originally planning a part 2 to this, but I was so moved by the amount of people who enjoyed part 1 that I had a burst of inspiration to write this! So thank you all 🩵

I might do a part 3 where they reunite finally. I just like cliffhanger endings and I didn't want this to get too long.

I had a skim through to check for spelling but as usual if anyone points out my mistakes I'll crash out. 🩵

🩵Thank you for reading 🩵

Dividers by @bunnysrph

🌟Tag list🌟 @seternic @hel1nn

[chrryblsssm]

❝     i'm     happy     i've     decided     to     go     through     with     it.     really     take     a     more     serious     approach     to     getting     the     degree.          ❞     she     knows     this     life     she     has     isn't     promised.     that     anything     could     happen     and     she     could     end     up     back     at     square     one.     that     could     be     said     for     anyone,     about     anything.     she     wants     to     make     sure     she     has     an     education     and     a     degree     to     fall     back     on,     even     if     she     only     ever     needs     it     for     her     own     personal     fulfillment.     ❝     the     age     gap     is     weird.     i     know     i'm     going     to     miss     a     lot     of     stuff,     but     i'm     happy     to     be     able     to     see     him     grow     up     like     this,     even     if     it's     not     for     much     longer.     ❞     she     was     so     happy     to     see     drew,     she     could     barely     contain     it.     ❝     mmm,     then     i     guess     you     should     pick     me     up.     ❞     she     says,     winking     as     she     takes     another     step     and     wraps     her     arms     around     his     neck.     

❝     is     it     bad     that     i'm     a     little     sad     to     be     leaving     again     so     soon?     i     miss     home...     i     miss     you.     ❞     she     says,     voice     taking     on     a     hint     of     sadness.     she's     just     happy     he     was     here     now.     ❝     mmm,     yes,     that     sounds     fantastic.     i'm     so     ready.     ❞     she     says,     taking     his     hand     happily     and     following     him     down     the     stairs     of     the     bus     and     out     into     the     cool,     dark     night.     ❝     oh,     you     don't     want     to     hook     up?     maybe     we     aren't     on     the     same     page     after     all...     ❞     she     teases,     giggling     softly.     ❝     i     bet     the     brand     would     have     loved     front     row     content,     though.     or     backstage     content.     should     they     invite     you     to     another     of     dad's     shows,     see     if     that's     something     they'd     be     into.     ❞     although,     by     then,     she     hopes     they     may     be     back     together.     that's     part     of     the     appeal     of     living     in     los     angeles     on     a     more     permanent     basis     soon.     ❝     yeah,     one     more     la     show.     i'd     love     if     you     came     to     hang     out.     i     know     everyone     in     the     crowd     is     having     the     best     night     of     their     lives     out     there,     but     it     gets     tedious     sometimes,     all     the     things     i'm     doing     backstage,     or     keeping     an     eye     on     rowan     while     mom     watches     dad.     i'd     love     to     have     company.     i     mean,     obviously     i     have     tessa,     and     we     have     a     great     time,     but...     i     haven't     kissed     her     in     a     while.     ❞     she     teases     again,     scrunching     her     nose     up     in     delight.     ❝     well,     haven't     kissed     anyone     since     you,     actually.     ❞

he smiles at her words, nodding.    ❝    they should be proud. you're doing the damn thing. getting a degree that will be there no matter what happens, whatever you choose to do.    ❞    that's something he can certainly relate to after all. he's making his money right now off of the internet, not from some 9 - 5, but... he's got a business degree when he needs it. and in its own way, it's helping him with this career too.    ❝    it's really great you get to be with rowan too- he's so little... i feel like it would be weird to like- miss your brother growing up in these stages.    ❞    he doesn't mind talking about her family, he really loved getting to be almost part of that while they were together. her brother's the cutest, and her parents really were very nice to him, inviting him to stay for dinner, letting her invite him on the road with him for a few days... that sort of thing. it was great.    ❝    we did... so i guess i am offering, princess.    ❞    he chuckles, drew smiling at her and winking at that response of hers.

    ❝    perfect. we'll welcome you back to california the right way before you hit the road again.    ❞    he's going to miss her when she does go back on the road, even knowing she probably has a few days here unless they're planning on hanging out in their next destination instead. so at least he has today, tonight. whatever happens.    ❝    double double with fries and a milkshake?    ❞    drew asks her with a bright grin, reaching for her hand to head back down the steps and off towards the direction of his car. he brushes the suggestion off in a way he hopes is gently, gesturing to the lanyard half hanging out of his jacket pocket.    ❝    it's definitely a better show from down there, but i was in one of the uh sponsor suites. bad look to turn it down to go hook up with my ex girlfriend. not that that's necessarily what we'd be doing, but...    ❞    his eyes sparkle with interest, but he's sure she gets what he's trying to say too. he came here tonight with a contractual commitment. he's fulfilled that- and now- his time is his own.    ❝    next time i'd love to hang out with you- and not for the view of the stage. one more la show right?    ❞    

[yesterdayiwrote]

I do think certain people within Mercedes should maybe consider that a quote like that wouldn't be half as believable if Toto hadn't spent the last six months fawning like a lovesick teenager in the press and dropping quotes of a similar sentiment himself...

Once you start to doubt someone's integrity, you'll believe more and more scurrilous things about them with less and less questioning

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Imagine telling op guys who has a crush on you, that you want to sleep with them. You just plop down next to them cuddle into them and fall asleep. It's just hem turning red and trying to calm down their thoughts

hehe, this is legit so cute. (tweaked the prompt to be a little more suggestive than just thoughts in the end.)

not a dream ft. the monster trio!

set-up: as anon asked! you happened to utter five simple words, "can i sleep with you?" to the op boys (who have a crush crush on you). now these idiots are contemplating if they'd make it out alive. warnings: includes nsfw thoughts!! no actual things happen but the guys are thinking very very perverted shit, so, if not comfortable please skip!!! m.list

luffy:

💗 you know luffy. do you think luffy— the guy who clings to everyone, doesn't know the word "personal" and "space", who will probably hug you even if you threatened to punch him— will really mind if you told him you wanted to sleep with him? fuck no. even if you stood in front of him with a "i like you, i wanna sleep with you" in a suggestive way, he would say something along the lines of "awh, i like you too. let's sleep."

💗 but well, this was different. cause he liked you. so when you decided to show up at his door after dinner with a cranky look, he was both confused and intrigued. "what's wrong with ya?" the captain mumbled as you sat next to him on the bed. "chopper and ussop. ugghhh." you groaned, "they're doing some stupid shit next door and making so much noise. there is no possible way i can sleep there. and im sure nobody else will let me crash with them tonight in their room." luffy would have probably leapt up and gone to join the other two fools had you not sprawled out next to him. you gave him a tired smile, "so, can i sleep with you?" 💗you hadn't even waited for an answer. mindlessly, you draped a hand over his torso and snuggled into his chest. he pulled you towards himself on instinct. this was normal. yeah. hugging a crewate. yeah. totally normal. atleast for him. then why was his heart beating so fast? mouth going dry? why was sweat clinging uncomfortably to his back although he knew the night air was frigid? 💗you shifted and your chest brushed against his. luffy swallowed wantonly as you shifted again. and then one more time. trying to find the most comfortable position, he guessed. mechanically, you pushed yourself further against him. and this motherfucker went as stiff as a washboard. "luffy?" you mumbled against his skin before tracing your eyes upward. from this position, your doe-eyes bore into his, "you don't mind right? it's just really cold, sorry." how could he mind? your soft body was against his. your fingers drummed faint melodies against his back and your hair smelled like some floral scented shampoo. every time you breathed out, the warm air caressed him and goosebumps painted his hands. he felt your peaked chest brush against his again and he almost swallowed his own tongue. "luffy?" you asked again, your voice saccharine. and he vaguely wondered how would the same voice sound if he tore open that flimsy top your were wearing and held your soft skin against his palm. or if he took the courage enough to dip his fingers below the waistband of your pajamas and felt you up. would you say his name like that? 💗 well, fuck. this was the captain had thought so much in his entire life. and they were thoughts about feeling up his crewmate's tits. and, as a result of such vigorous thinking, a problem had arose in his pants. he tried to think it away. tried thinking about sea-kings or hideous devil-fruit users. of alvida. or anyone else. he even tried to think of food so that his attention could be diverted. but even the most tastiest of sanji's pudding couldn't take away the throbbing in his cock. and the delicious feeling of your soft skin next to his. as a last resort, he prayed that you wouldn't shift more and feel his dick against you. he prayed you would take his silence as rejection and simply drift off to sleep. but ofcourse, this is a godless land. because you moved again. and when you felt his hard-on against your thigh, you looked up at him. lips caught between your teeth, blinking up at him almost innocently, you asked, "got a problem, captain?" before he could answer, you pressed forward, "i think i can fix it." on the other side of the ship nami burst into chopper and ussop's room. when she yelled, it probably could be heard over the entire ship, "LET US SLEEP, YOU MORONS. WE HAVE A LONG DAY TOMORROW. GO SLEEP OR I'LL FINE YOU BOTH A MILLION BERRIES PER MINUTE THAT YOU'RE UP." you're not sure if it was chopper or ussop crying in the distance. but oh well, you have a captain to please 🤭

zoro:

💚zoro's not even fucking sure how he ended up like this. he's sure it involved some higher-than-tolerable level of alcohol for both the parties involved. and he's sure it must have been your idea that he had drunkenly complied with. "let's sleep together" "okay" what was he thinking? because right now, you were sprawled against his chest. both of you were on his bed. his shirt was off, yours was barely on. a bit of drool peaked out from the corner of your lips. and he found himself quietly rubbing it away with the pad of his thumb, smiling softly to himself. ew?! was he still drunk?? as the realization set in, he pulled his hands back in wicked horror and looked around as if someone had seen him. it was still night, and in the middle of the night, the effects of the cheap booze must have wore off of him and he awoke to you as his bed. 💚"hey." he tried to shake you awake but you just groaned, sinking further into him. he hissed when you buried your face against his bare skin. he whisper-shouted, ignoring the goosebumps on both of your skins, "wake up. go back to your own room, woman." but you didn't shift an inch. instead, you stayed buried against him. he groaned but when his eyes fell back to your face, he couldn't help but fight off the impending blush that crawled up his face. your hair was a mess and your cheek was squished against his chest. you breathed softly and sometimes, your fingers twitched against his skin and you touched him fleetingly. and you were warm. too warm for his liking. he tried to look away but his hand carefully came up to your face. staying there not a moment too long, he dragged it downwards. over your shoulders and over your back. he stopped before he went too far and grabbed your ass, the curve so delicious in his eyes. but he stopped, pulling his hands back to lay on the linen sheets. he was a horny man, not an evil douche. 💚but you must have been hell-bent in proving flaws in his moral-code, because you shifted and your pelvis shifted over his. he bit back a grunt at the movement over the fabric. you were so cozy against him. the way you brushed up against him, the way your hair tickled him. would you like it if he pulled your hair? would you moan? god, what would you sound if you moaned out his name? he was a bad man. thinking all of those things. and he tried to focus on anything but the blood-rush to his dick, really, but the way you started moving against him, almost mechanically. god. that made all attempts to ignore his boner disappear. his hips moved upwards and he closed his eyes, giving into the friction of you against him. soft moans fell from his lips, hips still moving upwards to graze your clothed thighs. 💚"zoro?" you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eye. you strained your neck up and he looked down at you, dazed. "you okay, zo?" when he found himself unable to talk and you found a harsh roll of hips under you, you connected the dots. a playful smile tugged on your lips, "need some help?" "no." the swordsman swallowed thickly. "fine." you shrugged, clamoring off him. your hips swayed as you made a futile attempt to find your discarded shorts somewhere in the room. you gave him a lingering look, "i should go back to my room. the crew will freak out if they find us like this." "no." he caught your wrist, tugging you towards him, "stay. i could use some help." 💚in the morning, sanji walked into the swordman's room to see if the moron could find you somewhere since you were nowhere to be found on the ship. what he found, instead, was you and the mosshead tangled in his sheets. when you and zoro had finally made it to the breakfast table, sanji may/may not have been crying. luffy, ussop and chopper were laughing in the background. nami decided it was a good enough reason to even high-five zoro. it was an awkward breakfast.

sanji:

💙sanji was probably in heaven. yes, that's the only explanation. sure, the ship was en route to alabasta but he was on his way to heaven. because there's no way you had come seeking him out in the middle of the night. you had said, "i can't sleep." "oh?" the cook had wordlessly stepped aside and you took on the opportunity to slip in. he shut the door behind you, "can i help you then, love? want me to cook something?" "i would have really not bothered you but i don't know who else to ask. nami and vivi are sleeping together and the bed's not big for the three of us." you rambled, "and zoro probably showered five months ago. and luffy, ussop and chopper are passed out in the common room. so... can i sleep with you?" it's a miracle he didn't pass out on hearing those words. it's an even bigger miracle that that was three hours ago and he had still not passed out. now, sanji lay next to you— as stiff as a corpse— while you snored. your body shifted and your hands reached out towards sanji. your palm ran up and down his torso as to check if he was there. and once you had gotten a confirmation, you scooted in his direction and sanji held his breath as if one wayward puff of air will wake you up. 💙vinsmoke sanji was trying. he was trying o maintain his composure, to not pull you into his chest. he was trying not to think about the way your chest will feel against his, the way his fingers will glide over your thighs, the way your hand will fit around his dic— and it was as if you could hear his wretched thoughts. because your hands moved over his torso. gliding up and down. you leaned into his touch, molding your body against his. you might have been having an interesting dream cause he saw your hips gently rocking, your thighs pressed harder and you eyes clenched shut. you buried your head into his chest and the smell of your shampoo seemed to turn him on more. he ignored his weeping dick, decided to pay it no mind. but all of that resolve crumbled when he heard you moan his name into the fabric across his chest. your nails dug into his shoulders and your nose buried as deeply as it could against his skin. 💙 he gently guided his fingers to your thighs. and you shook under his soft touches. his thumb softly brushed over your clothed pussy and bucked towards his hand. he could probably just feel you up and you'd let him— "—shit." sanji quickly brought his hand back, realizing that you were sleeping and out of it. even if your lips chanted his name, he couldn't do the things his mind was convincing him to do. because if he started, he wouldn't stop. 💙so, to get himself rid of such sinful thoughts, he decided to hide in the shower and pump at his hard cock till he was tired. till you crawled out of his head. till your voice stopped ringing in his ears, making his cock impossibly harder. he slowly pushed you away, trying to climb off the bed. but as soon as you felt his warmth disappear, you cracked open an eye, "sanji?" "uh" his face went red, eyes averting, "just going to the washroom. i'd be back." you sat up, "did i go too far?" sanji's mouth hung agape as you pulled him back into bed, "i thought you wanted me to moan your name like that—" "—wh-what?" "i had a dream." you innocently traced your index nail down his torso and brushed it over his sleeping shorts, "think you can help me?" you blinked up at him, "pretty please." 💙 the next morning, the cook of the crew made the worst breakfast possible. wasn't his fault. all he could think about was you and your breathless moans and your eyes as— "this tastes like shit." the swordman argued. "thEN MAKE IT YOURSELF, FREELOADER." "might as well if you're gonna cook so bad." "—i think it tastes fine." nami sighed, "if i knew you getting some would make you a terrible cook, i would have let (yn) sleep with me and vivi." and the entire ship choked on their (terrible) breakfast.

a/n: i tweaked the prompt a bit (as i was getting stuck with the original ask), but i hope this was good enough anon!! as always, thanks for reading and send in req that you might have <3 (tagging: @bokutosbiceps cause i know you love luffy) m.list

[steddieas-shegoes]

pop goes metal

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'alternate universe'

rated t | 964 words | cw: language | tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

"No fuckin' way are we working with him," Eddie argues with their manager. "You're always so worried about our image and then you go and have us doing a song with a fuckin' pop artist?"

The manager, Anthony, rolls his eyes. "It'll broaden your fanbase. You know who spends money on shit? Women. You know who likes Steve Harrington? Women."

"Does he even write his own shit?" Gareth asks.

"Does it matter?" Eddie turned to him with a glare. "Even if he writes it, it's not our style."

"Maybe we could at least hear what he's trying to work with us on?" Jeff, always the calming presence, asked towards Anthony.

"He sent over a sample before we sign any agreements."

Eddie sat down in the chair furthest from everyone else, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, this isn't an official recording. Just what he did on his phone on his tour bus with his acoustic guitar. He arranged the bass already for Frankie, too, but said he's open to whatever Gareth feels is right for the drums." Anthony pressed play on his phone and the room was filled with strumming and a surprisingly raspy voice singing what was clearly a chorus.

Eddie could pretend he hated it, and maybe the guys would agree with him and they'd never have to speak of this again.

He couldn't hide his reaction fast enough, though.

His jaw dropped as he listened to the lyrics, surprised to find that they weren't just about going to a club and dancing or being in love.

Steve's voice broke at the end before there was shuffling and the recording stopped.

Eddie felt everyone's eyes on him. He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor, tapping his fingers against his arm.

"It's not bad," he finally said. "Not sure why he needs us, though."

"Apparently, his brother is a huge fan of you and suggested he try to work with you."

"I think we should do it." Jeff said, a note of finality in his tone that Eddie knew he wouldn't try arguing with.

"Yeah, can't hurt." Frankie shrugged.

"If he's giving me creative freedom on the drums, how can I say no?" Gareth smirked.

"Guess we're working with the pop diva, then."

****

Steve Harrington was nothing like what they expected.

He showed up to their studio in sweats and glasses, holding a tablet and a bottle of Tylenol. They started to introduce themselves as he found a spot on the couch.

"I'm really glad you guys were willing to work with me," he said after he shook everyone's hand.

Eddie stared.

"My uh, my brother, Dustin, he's kinda why I wrote this song and I know it means a lot that you agreed to be on it," Steve continued. "So, thanks. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your vibes or anything."

Eddie felt every wall he built crumbling with every word Steve spoke. God dammit, this man just had to be sincere and hot and talented, didn't he?

"Nah, we're gonna sound great together." Eddie smiled at Steve's wide-eyed look. "You wanna show us the whole song?"

Steve nodded, pulling something up on his phone. Another recording, this one more professional and included an electric guitar.

"Robin was the stand in for the electric while I did bass."

"So you can play bass?" Frankie asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, but my preferred instrument is piano. I just don't do a lot of slow songs. Guitar is what gets the women interested, or so they tell me," Steve smiled awkwardly. "But feel free to change some things up. I'm totally open to suggestions."

But really, it was damn near perfect as it was. Frankie made one tweak during the bridge, but Steve ended up loving it more than the original and told him so with a grin.

"You're a fuckin' genius!" He exclaimed.

Gareth started messing around on the drums while Steve and Eddie worked on the first couple of lines.

"Something still doesn't feel right," Steve mentioned.

"Maybe we change the rhyming pattern?" Eddie suggested. "You've got ABAB. Might work better to do AABB. Some of these words can be moved around to make that work."

Steve stared at the notes app for a moment, then looked back up at Eddie, beaming smile making his eyes squint.

"I could kiss you!" He shouted. As soon as he realized what he said, he blushed, looking back down at the phone. "I mean, thanks. That's a great suggestion."

Eddie searched Steve's face, coming to the conclusion that there was probably a good reason why Steve didn't care about what women liked when it came to his music.

"I have a pretty strict rule about kissing people I work with," Eddie said slowly, quietly so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

"But we won't be working with each other for long, right?" Eddie continued, letting his hand rest on Steve's thigh. God, he was muscular.

"Um. No I guess not."

"Rain check, then. Until we've finished our professional relationship." Eddie couldn't believe he was suggesting this. Showing interest in a pop star. What's next? Dating one? Marrying one?

"Are you saying you wanna kiss me, Munson?" Steve suddenly sounded more confident.

"I'm saying we've got work to do before I can get my hands on you." Eddie tapped his thigh before pulling away. "So let's get to it."

"Dude! I got it!" Gareth yelled, interrupting their moment.

"Be right there!" Steve yelled back, not looking away from Eddie. "Might break a record for fastest recording time ever just so I can kiss you," Steve added quietly to Eddie before standing and walking over to Gareth.

"Well, fuck." Eddie sighed, smiling to himself.

[pomefioredove]

So people use Kalim, right? Like pretend to be his friend because he has money-

What if Kalim's crush is just like "Yeah I grew up poor....anyways! I bought you this gold bracelet! Probably not real gold, but I thought it'd fit your style." And is just always pulling up with gifts and little trinkets and just refuses to let Kalim spend any money 😭 I also imagine if Kalim gave them a gift, they'd just start bawling because they don't know how to accept gifts-

:3c I love a little kalim posting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the mystery of the magi

type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, realizing now that I went a liytle off-prompt, sorry u-u

You gave Kalim one rule.

One rule. You had no expectations, no requirements, no shopping list.

Just one rule... that happened to be impossible for him to follow.

"No money?" Jamil asks, watching Kalim pace the room. "You can't spend any money? So no clothes, no jewelry, no games?"

It's far past curfew, but even Jamil had long forgotten about that. That's how strange this whole thing is.

Kalim has never looked so worried. "Not a thaumark. They said so!"

"Did they...?"

Of course. Jamil has thought you were weird from the day Kalim started coming home with plastic toys and friendship bracelets, "gifts" of yours. But this is just absurd.

The heir to one of the richest families in the world has days to find you the perfect birthday gift, and he can't spend any money.

Kalim's eyes are wide with thought, which is a strange look on him. "They say that my presence is enough..."

"But it's not," Jamil finishes the thought for him. Kalim had always given gifts as love- handing out gold and jewels like they were candy- which made him a treat for... well, most of NRC. But not you.

"Well... there's plenty you can do without spending," Jamil says. "You could... cook something, or plan a nice date..."

Kalim pouts. "It's not enough! Everything they get me is so... perfect... I want to do the same!"

Perfect, meaning the cheap toys from claw machines, drawings, handmade jewelry, half-edible cookies... Kalim keeps everything you give him. Everything. His room is beginning to look like the prize shelf at an arcade.

"This is quite the conundrum, isn't it..." Jamil mutters. "Are you sure I can't-"

"No! I need to come up with it on my own! They're just... so good at gift-giving. I wonder how they do it..." Kalim sighs. Jamil rolls his eyes.

"Then... perhaps I can offer some advice. The sort of gift you're looking to give doesn't come from here," Jamil says, pointing to his head. He trails his finger down to his chest.

"...It comes from here."

Though that was complete nonsense, Kalim lights up. "I-I think I understand! Thanks, Jamil!"

And then he's gone.

.

Trapped in a circle of friends and Scarabia students, you awkwardly smile at their birthday wishes.

Grim's greedy little paws dig into the homemade cake before the candles are out, getting icing all over himself. You chuckle, a warm, loving sound that makes Kalim beam. Good so far.

"Time for gifts. We do have a curfew to mind," Jamil says, and Grim laughs maniacally, reaching out for the first box.

"Actually," Kalim says, smiling as if it were his own birthday. "I was hoping I'd get to give my gift first!"

You chuckle. "I don't see why not,"

Kalim returns the gesture, and he stands on the table, drawing everyone's attention to him. Jamil raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not seeing a box!" Grim shouts, and you shush him. Kalim clears his throat.

"I'm usually not so bad at this, but I had a lot of trouble thinking of the perfect present for you... until Jamil said I was thinking too much here... and not here," he says, pointing first to his head, and then lower, to his throat.

You give Jamil a confused look, but he looks just as lost.

"So... that's what I'm going to do. Happy birthday!"

Everyone watches in some mix of amusement and horror as Kalim begins to sing... in your honor.

Without any accompanying music, he performs, in front of everyone you know, a song about everything he loves about you. Even Jamil looks horrified.

When it's over, the room is quiet. Everyone is staring at Kalim as if his head had fallen off.

Then, slowly, you stand. And you clap.

You're beaming. "That was amazing! Again! Again!"

Kalim grins, unphased by the weird looks everyone is giving you two, and he hops off the table to pull you into a hug.

"I'm so glad you liked it!"

"Liked it!? That was..." you laugh, hugging him back. "That was perfect."

"I can sing it as much as you want! Every night, if it makes you happy!"

"Sevens help me..." Jamil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trey gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.

[cjlouwho]

Can you please do a hurt/comfort Eddie + Tommy friendship with Bucktommy - Tommy gets hurt in some way (mentally/physically/sick/etc) and Eddie helps him until Buck can get there

you gave me a reason to finish the fic I started earlier today! thank you!

His teeth were chattering. Had been since he woke up after hitting the ground.

He didn't hurt anywhere, which was never a good sign.

He laid there, surrounded by trees. Cold, wet leaves underneath his body. He could hear crickets and frogs all around him. Could smell smoke somewhere nearby.

There were distinct sounds of metal creaking mixed in with nature.

Slowly, he moved his head to the right, then to the left.

Fire.

It was about fifty yards away. Thankfully, due to the recent rain, the fire was contained to the helicopter that had so gracefully fallen out of the sky.

He wasn't sure how he ended up so far from it. Had no memory of being ejected or jumping or whatever happened that made it so he wasn't inside those flames.

He lifted his hands to his face, could barely see them as the sun set below the trees. He was sure there was blood. Dirt, mud, leaves, and blood.

They shook so fiercely he wasn't sure how he had any control over them at all.

His breathing was labored, heart beating rapidly. No matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to calm himself down.

Suddenly, in the distance, he heard something.

People talking.

Not just people, familiar people.

Family.

“H- Here,” he barely managed to get out, figuring they'd be running toward the fire instead of him. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Here! I'm here!”

The talking stopped, then there was running.

He could feel the pounding of the footsteps as they approached.

“Hey, we gotcha, Buddy!”

“Howie?”

“Yeah, it's me. Saving your ass, once again.”

Hands were on him now. Lights shining in his eyes, causing him to squint. He could hear others talking. Hen, Eddie, Bobby. Couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

Chimney had him focus on him. “Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

“T- Tommy,” he answered. God, he wished he could stop shaking. He couldn't barely get out a word.

“Year?”

“2024.”

“Best paramedic you know?”

“Hen,” Tommy replied, choking out a laugh.

“Hey now!” Chimney exclaimed, mocking offense.

“I knew I liked you,” Hen said with a smile. She patted him on the shoulder before getting back to work.

Chimney chomped on his gum a couple times before asking his next question. “Can you wiggle your toes for me, Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head. He lifted his arm, tried to pull Chimney closer to him so he could whisper. “I c- can't feel anything,” he paused, sucked in a shaky breath, “b- below my waist.” He knew what this meant, and he also knew he was in shock. The adrenaline pumping through him was the only thing keeping him remotely alert.

Chimney nodded, sharing a glance with Hen. “Cervical collar for our dashing pilot here, please, Hen.”

“Already on it.”

“Ho- Howie?”

“Yeah, Buddy?”

“Ev- Evan?”

“Buck went home early today,” Eddie answered, moving into Chimney's place so he could do whatever work needed to be done. “Chief is cracking down on overtime, so he had to be sent home.”

“We've... We've been sa- saving f- for the wedding,” he explained, although he wasn't sure why. Everyone there already knew that.

Eddie took Tommy's hand and wrapped it up in his own. “You were probably already up in the air when Buck sent you the text complaining about being sent home.”

“He'd say... He'd say th- the chief didn't want us t- to have the good hors d'oeuvres.”

Eddie nodded, tried putting on a smile. “He did mention that on his way out.”

Tommy squeezed Eddie's hand. “We m- might have to re... reschedule.” His lip trembled at the thought, tears welling in his eyes. Evan was so excited for the wedding. Had been working diligently and meticulously on every detail since they got engaged in October. He wanted a winter wedding, and didn't want to wait another whole year, so February it would be. With it being December now, Tommy didn't see any way he'd be able to fully recover by then.

If he did at all.

“Let's not worry about that right now, alright, Man? I don't think Buck will care when the wedding is, as long as there is one. Let's focus on that, okay?”

Tommy nodded. Blinked a few times to rid himself of the tears.

A few fell anyway.

“Ed- Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I... Do I still have my legs?”

“You certainly do, Kinard,” Bobby interrupted. Tommy wasn't sure how long the captain had been on his other side. Bobby gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “You've got all your limbs right where they should be. You ready to move now, Kid?”

Tommy could've laughed at the nickname. He'd been called that by Bobby a couple of times, many years ago. It'd been a long while since then.

He nodded. “Ready.”

Eddie didn't let go of his hand as they lifted him and began carrying him to the ambulance. Tommy was a bit surprised. He didn't remember ever being moved onto the spine board. Hadn't felt a thing.

A part of him had wondered if they'd even been working on him during that time. That maybe Eddie was the chosen distraction until he drifted off and his breathing stopped.

He was glad to know he was wrong.

*****

Bobby drove them to the hospital, with Eddie staying in the back beside him. It was a bit cramped with him, Eddie, Chimney, and Hen all back there together, but the fact he was surrounded by these people made him feel a bit more comforted.

Tommy looked over to where his and Eddie's hands were still tightly gripped together. He wasn't sure if Eddie was refusing to let him go, or if he was refusing to let Eddie go. Didn't really matter either way. He needed something to keep him tethered to reality.

He shook his wrist back and forth a few times to get Eddie's attention. “Can you... Can you call Evan? Please?”

“Of course,” Eddie replied, grabbing his phone out of his pocket with his free hand.

“You've got some cuts on your arms, Tommy,” Hen explained as Eddie pressed Buck's name. “We're gonna work on those on the way to the hospital, so you might feel some stings, okay?”

“Yeah. That's okay.”

Eddie put the phone on speaker and Buck answered on the third ring. “What's wrong?”

“Buck-”

“Who is it, Eddie? I just left work an hour ago. Is it Bobby? Hen? Chim?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “B- Baby.”

Silence.

Then.

“Tommy? Is that you?”

“Had a... a little accident.”

“What hospital?”

“The usual,” Eddie replied.

“I'm heading there now.”

“Evan? Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, wanting to get his attention before he got in the car and started to drive.

“I'm here, Tommy,” he answered. “I'm gonna meet you at the hospital.”

“I don't wanna... wanna scare you,” Tommy said, and he could feel the tears burning his eyes again. “I can't. I can't feel my legs.”

“He's stabilized,” Chimney added quickly, before Buck could ask. “Likely a lower spinal cord injury.”

Another pause, followed by a quiet. “Okay. Okay.”

“He's doing well, Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “We're all right here with him. He won't shut up about you, like always.”

Tommy smiled. He hoped Evan did as well.

“Feeling's mutual,” Buck replied. His voice was softer now. Tommy knew the words were meant to keep him focused and thinking positively.

It worked.

“Need you t- to be safe.”

“I will, Baby. I'll drive safe and I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay. L- Love you.”

“I love you, too. So damn much, T- Tommy.”

Tommy wasn't sure who hung up first, but he could tell by the way Evan's voice wavered at the end that he was probably close to falling apart.

“Thank you,” Tommy said as Eddie put his phone back into his pocket.

“Whatever you need, Bud, I'm here.”

“Just... Just keep ho- holding my hand.”

Eddie nodded, squeezed a little tighter. “I can do that.”

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ????? (yearners?) | fame au p5

p1 p2 p3 p4 interlude p6

Steve says he's flying out to New York for meetings. That’s what he tells everyone. That’s what he does. He's courteous, even lets Eddie know he’s in the city, that he can maybe, maybe stop by his place later.

But he doesn’t tell Eddie he’s coming to the show.

He gets there late, hangs at the very back of the venue, the nosebleed cheap seats. He’s in uniform, black jeans and scraggled tee. Bit of liner under his eyes, baseball hat and shitty prop wig he stole from set. It should be enough for most people to not look at him twice.

It’s the worst spot he’s ever had at one of Eddie’s gigs, but he couldn’t take the “I’m with the band" seats Eddie had offered him. Like he’s still some kind of accessory. Couldn’t take the c-list celebrity box seats either. Cause, well– he’s not supposed to be here.

Eddie’s a blip on the stage from where Steve’s standing, but it makes his idiotic traitorous heart swoop all the same. He’s only been on tour for a month. Steve wasn’t supposed to miss him this bad.

He’s really not supposed to be here.

Eddie's solo stuff has always been too wordy, too raw. Like he’s Dylan in the body of a metal star. It makes Steve's gut sore.

It’s mostly songs from his latest album, at least. Seemed like Eddie had a bad run in with benzos last year. Which also kinda makes his gut sore.

Eddie plays the hits. It's been years but the ones from "Penitence" cut like fresh wounds. The crowd goes wild for Dead Weight. But Pavlov's got the one-up on Steve. Those first three chords still make him want to crawl out of his skin.

It’s nearing the end now and Eddie drops the band, walks up to the front of the stage with just the spotlight on him. He’s holding Lucky, the old pawn-shop acoustic Wayne got him when he was twelve. He used to strum it between joints in the back of the van.

He’s– he’s nervous.

He coughs into the mic. “Hey uh, um, I've got something special for tonight. I don’t really do covers and uh, especially not ones that–” He cringes, grits his teeth, “Well, this isn’t exactly my sound.”

It was unsettling how nervous he was. Steve could fill journals full all of Eddie’s fuck-ups and flaws (and he has, many, many times.) But performing? That was undeniable, coded into his DNA. Eddie was a great performer. He was never nervous on stage.

Eddie's hands tremor at the tuning keys. “But uh, someone couldn’t make it tonight- a um, well. An old friend.”

Shit.

“–And he really used to really love this one.”

Shit shit shit shit.

“So, uh, yeah. Sing along if you know it.”

Steve knows it. One chord in and he knows it–

It’s Dave fucking Matthews. Eddie hates Dave Matthews. He's the total opposite of anything Eddie considered worthy art. His sound, his look, his ability to fill stadiums with every guy that wears sandals in a 50-mile radius, everything.

More importantly, Eddie’s fans hate Dave Matthews. If they don’t, they keep that close to their chest. Hell, not even– Steve spent enough of his early twenties bopping around dive bars with Eddie's crowds. They'd take that shit to their grave.

Eddie's already on thin ice with most of them.

Steve knows most of them resented the experimental sound of the new album, knows sales are low. He’s heard enough of Eddie's 3 AM pillow talk bitching about it.

There’s multiple audible groans. Someone in front of Steve whispers, “What the actual fuck.” in total disbelief.

But Steve doesn’t register it. Not really. Not over the blood rushing in his ears. Over the sound of Eddie crooning, “Who’s got their claws in you, my friend? Into your heart I’ll beat again."

Truth was, he hadn’t listened to that song, that whole album, in over a decade.

Steve would start up the car, like always and “So Much to Say” would play, like always. But there were no loud puking noises from the passenger seat, no pile of empty, over-dramatic threats. Just dust in the sunlight where someone had loved him, once.

And he couldn't stomach it.

He can't stomach it now. Eddie in front of 13,000 people. Shaky and vulnerable and too-himself for them all to bear witness.

It’s– fuck. Steve’s nineteen and the bimmer’s out of gas and Eddie’s cursing this song out, but his hand is under Steve's sweater and it's warm.

The third verse now and Eddie's crooning about forgiveness, about begging and haste and “Holding you so, boy.”

"Boy". Not "Girl". Unmistakable.

Steve wonders if anyone noticed. Eddie’s not out, not really. But he dedicated a love song to an old friend. Maybe he is now.

Then it’s all too much. Too big for him to hold. The love and hurt and longing and bullshit and near-two decades worth of sludge dredging up his throat and crashing down, pulling him under.

Steve doesn’t wait for the song to end. He keeps his head down and skips out before the encore.

[walkingstackofbooks]

What if Julian's enhanced brain was also aggressively good at suppressing traumatic memories? And what if Julian genuinely had never realised that his memory was abnormal in that sense?

Let's have a DS9 family dinner where Jadzia's telling a story from one of her host's childhoods, and Julian makes what he thinks it's a very innocuous statement about how he wishes humans had the same sort of memory that trills do, because "You remember all of Dax's childhoods, and humans can't even remember one! Even having an enhanced memory hasn't stopped me from forgetting pretty much everything from when I was a kid - but that's just being human, isn't it? Only making lasting memories as an adult..."

And Keiko and Miles and Kasidy and Benjamin are all like "What do you mean? Of course humans have childhood memories!"

And Julian's like "Well, yeah, but only flashes of things, right? It's not continuous like you get when you're an adult, it's just the big things mostly."

And the others are circling back trying to get a definition out of Julian as to what he means by continuous and what counts as "big enough to remember" and Julian's like "Come off it, you're saying you don't have massive gaps in your memory up until you left home? It's normal to have forgotten basically everything, right?"

And everyone's exchanging looks like "Noo...." but not quite being sure how to say it.

apart from maybe kira, who's thinking "sounds familiar, I thought that was a bajoran thing though"

And Miles is like "Hang on, I've definitely told you stories from when I was a kid, so you must have realised I could remember my childhood?"

"You have?"

"Yeah, like the one with my brothers and the swing and the trombone...?"

"No... Weren't you like, 19 or 20 in those stories?"

And it transpires that Julian has gone through his life just... automatically aging people up when they talked about their childhood, or tuning out any mention of them being a kid or a teen, or else assuming it was a story they'd been told about themselves later on in life.

(Wish I could write an actual hurt/comfort feels scene right now but this is going to have to suffice, brain says no. So if this catches anyone else's fancy to write something more, I'd be delighted to read it! 🥰)

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Second Chances

A/n: first time writing for Rip Wheeler, hope to write more for him

I started this months ago and just finished but I hope it’s good :)

Warnings: implied smut, religious trauma, Beth and Rip aren’t together anymore(love Beth but it couldn’t work for the idea 😔), abuse, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Masterlist

He looks so pouty and cute I can’t 🥺

~October 15th, 6:37 pm~

"You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?" John's gruff voice came over the phone, voice wavering through heavy breaths.

"Yeah, why?" Rip asked, he'd just been making himself a quick dinner, body already aching for the sanctity of bed and rest.

"I'll explain later, just get it ready." John hung up before Rip could say anything more.

~7:05 am~

There was an old abandoned shed farther away from the main house, way over a few fields. It once served a purpose but now just lay, holding a few tools that no one had ever bothered to retrieve, there wasn't enough reason behind it anyway.

However, John had been passing by it the past few months with loose cattle around and kept hearing noise coming from it. At first he didn't pay much attention to it, it was most likely just some animals that had taken it over to hide away from the cooling weather, but he wanted to check it out when the sounds started getting stranger.

"Kayce," he called to his youngest son, "I want to take you with me to check out the shed up North of here." He said.

Kayce was with his wife, Monica, and son, Tate. They were having breakfast together, Tate was going off about something and Monica was listening closely, Kayce had been as well until his father came over to him.

"Up North?" He repeated. "Why? That thing’s been here longer than me, never needed to check on it before."

John sucked his teeth and shrugged. "Just come with me later, alright?" Kayce agreed, he had nothing else to do. Nothing to do with the ranch, anyway.

They couldn't head off right away, things needed to get done with the horses and such, everyone had chores.

~4:45 pm~

The two hadn't been able to leave much earlier, just getting on their horses to head out. Kayce didn't mind leaving earlier, he'd thought they'd leave later but this way he figured he'd still be able to tuck Tate in with Monica.

They arrived at the shed and sure enough those noises were back, only this time there was a light seeping through the cracks of the old wood.

Not wanting to risk getting caught they tied their horses up further away to trees, walking through the overgrown grass lit up by the setting sun, it cast a golden glow over the already yellowing field.

There was definitely someone inside, someone doing something and clinking shit together. They drew their guns as they neared the door facing into the trees.

John kicked it open, whoever was in there jumped and dropped something. "Hey-hey! Who the hell're you?!" It was a man yelling from inside. "Show yourselves to me, you crazy fucks!" Kayce gave John a worried look.

John peered in and saw the guy, scrawny fellow, shaved head, it didn't seem to be by his own fruition with how choppy it was. His clothes were tattered and stained, eyes bugging, he was clearly on something; what, they weren't sure, but they couldn't risk anything.

Kayce took the first step in, gun aimed at the man just in case. John followed shortly after and looked around while Kayce kept the man against a wall, hands in the air defensively.

"Cooking meth, you're cooking meth on my land?!" John yelled, making his way over to the man in a few short strides, raising his fist and punching him square in the face and knocking him on his ass.

There was a second thud, it didn't come from Kayce or John, not even the addict. No, this one came a second later from somewhere else.

In the corner of the shed was a smaller closet, it had been used to keep shovels and such. It wasn't small but big wasn't a good word for it, not by a longshot.

"I'll deal with this, you check on that." John said to Kayce, taking the rope from his side and kneeling next to the man, getting him over to the broken down and chipped table in the middle of the room and tying him to it as tight as he could.

"Don't, it's nothing, nothing!" The man yelled, struggling against John's hold on him.

The door creaked open and Kayce froze at the sight. "You, uh, you're gonna wanna see this, dad."

John looked up at his son, trying to get a look from where he was but needing to stand up anyway. The tied man kept yelling and squirming, shaking the table as he did.

Kayce moved to the side to let John look. The room was small, still, it held a poorly made bed, really it was just the frame with a shitty pillow and ratty old blanket thrown over it; there wasn't even a window to cover up.

In the darkness he made out a figure, a small one. A person chained to the bed. They were on their knees, elbows resting on the wood and hands clasped in one another, lips moving subtly in a silent prayer.

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." John muttered. He knelt down, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, keeping his voice gentle as it could be.

Your clothes, a shirt and cotton shorts, were browning with age, holes dug into them, blood littered over them, crusted into your shorts especially.

You finished your prayer and looked to him, keeping your gaze below his head and refusing to look any higher. You gave a small nod.

Kayce had gone back to the horses and returned with bolt cutters and handed them to his father. "We're gonna get you out of here, ok?" John said, rubbing your back. He reached for the chain wrapped around your ankle, hooking the cutters into one of the loops.

The feeling of him trying to get the chain off was more than you could bear, this room had been all you'd known for years, that chain had been around your ankle for years, rubbing on it and making your skin raw.

You swatted at John's hand, pushing him away and backing yourself into the corner across from the bed. Your breathing was heavy and you shook your head, this chain was keeping you here and still, you couldn't lose it.

John looked to Kayce who was chewing his cheek, thinking of ways to help.

The son took the cutters from his dad and moved to kneel in front of you. "I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? I just want to help, I can't do that with this thing." He said. Kayce was much gentler than John, his voice not as gruff and warmer. He looked you up and down, taking in your disheveled state and seeing how panicked you were. "Can you tell me your name?" He asked, not bothering to make you look at him, it was the least of his concerns right now.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap. You thought for a moment before shaking your head.

Kayce sighed. "Well, I'm Kayce Dutton, I live on this farm land with my family... we- my dad and I” he said, gesturing back to John, “want to take you there, we can get you food and a change of clothes... a proper bed to sleep in."

"They're lying! They're liars, don't listen to them!" The addict yelled. John groaned and went to him, tying the rope tighter around him. You couldn't hear what John was saying and you were too panicked to care.

"I am not lying, I can't promise you much more than my word, do you trust my word?" Kayce asked, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a soothing moment. You gave a small nod. "Alright now, I won't cut it all off, does that sound better?" You much preferred that compromise.

He didn't leave much, just keeping it around your ankle and then a few chains to keep a bit of extra weight, what you were used to, at least similar to it.

"Kayce, we gotta go." John said, peaking back into the room. "Now. Come on, let's go!" John hurried out, leaving you and Kayce alone.

"Can you walk?" You shook your head, Kayce exhaled with a nod. "I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out to the horses, alright?" You paused a moment but there wasn't much time for him to wait for you, quickly wrapping his arms around you and carrying you out of the shed and to the horses where John was already waiting, horses untied and ready to go.

The sky above you, the trees and the grass, all of it was so familiar and new all at the same time. The cool chill of the night hitting your face and body, your skin so pale in comparison to everything else. For just a moment you were struck with this envious look, all of this had been waiting for you? Just a few feet away? But then it all came crashing down as it settled in you that you were outside, alone and vulnerable.

As soon as you reached the horses you started panicking again, yelling and screaming and reaching out for the shed again as the man called out for you as well. Kayce laid you on the horse and gave it a smack to get it going, John was on the other horse, holding the reins to Kayce's horse and moving while Kayce started running just behind you both.

He didn't get far before the shed caught far, exploding. Kayce was already far enough away and wasn't injured, no one was but the man holding you captive was definitely gone, a foot landing not far from you.

You screamed until your throat hurt, until nothing came out. Your eyes red and stinging from tears as you cried out, body shaking over the horse.

John slowed down and Kayce caught up with you, taking the reins of his horse back and leading it back to the farm. "Kayce, call 911, we need to stop the fire." John spoke, taking out his own phone.

The land was damp and frosted, chances are the fire wouldn't make it very far, besides, the houses were much too far for it to cause any real damage. Still, the fire was right on the tree's edge and they couldn't risk too much.

The phone rang in John's hand, all while you wailed in the background. "You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?"

~7:16 pm~

Rip had set up the spare room, there really wasn't much to set, the bed was made and it wasn't a particularly messy room, dusty, sure, but not messy.

There was a knock on his door and he went to answer it, opening it to find John with a more than distraught you under his arm. "I'll go get some of Beth's old clothes, get her in the shower, clean her up.” The older man ordered, gently pushing you towards Rip.

Rip was caught so off guard and just held you close to him for several minutes while John walked away, back down the hill to the main house. He looked down to you as you stared at the ground. Your hair was matted, face a mess, clothes… he didn’t even want to think about it so he just guided you to the bathroom and set you down on the floor while he ran the water in the tub, making sure it was nice and warm since you were shivering.

He glanced back at you, huddled in the corner, knees to your chest, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What’s yer name, kid?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. You shivered and shook your head, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know what was going on, where you were. You were more than scared of this big, strange man, no matter how kind he seemed off the bat.

Rip sucked his teeth and nodded, understanding that this was something new for you. “I’m Rip… I’m a cowboy, you know what a cowboy is?” You shook your head again. “A cowboy is someone who protects the people around them… people like you, you understand?” You didn’t but you nodded anyway. “So, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never do that… and if anyone hurts you, you tell me, alright?” You nodded again.

Rip looked back to the water as the tub filled up. “What are you doing?” You asked, also looking to the tub as water poured out the faucet.

“I-I’m getting a bath ready for you.” He answered simply, raising a brow at your question. “You’ve had a bath before, right?” He looked you over, you didn’t look like you had.

“When-when I was younger…” You answered softly. “To wash away the day's filth is to wash away God’s path for you, your history.” You explained. Rip sighed, he wasn’t a very religious man but that sounded cultish to him, seeing your disheveled state…

“That’s not what God said, you know…” He said, hoping you’d look up at him but you didn’t. “If that’s what he really wanted he wouldn’t have made lakes and rivers for us to clean in… he would’ve made it harder to do that, would’ve put up a sign or something.” You thought about what he said. Nothing was changing overnight but after everything today you were at a loss, you couldn’t go back to the room you knew, all you had was Rip right now.

“Do you need help out of your clothes?” He asked, gesturing to you with a nod. You’ve heard those words before, not in that order, not in that tone, but you understood that much and shook your head.

You stood and pulled your shirt up over your head, Rip looked away to give you some privacy, as if he wasn’t about to wash you himself. You pulled your shorts off and tossed them aside to the corner before going to the sink, now Rip looked at you, confusion swirling in his eyes as you placed your hands on the edge of the sink, parting your legs and looking down into the sink.

Rip stared at you dumbfounded. Your clothes covered in blood and basically standing alone in the corner, it made sense now and he jumped to his feet, gathering you in his arms and bringing you over to the tub, carefully setting you down in the warm water. “You don’t ever have to do that again, you hear me?” He said, holding your mucky hair out of your face, turning your head to look at him. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his face. “Can you look at me?” You shook your head. “What’s stopping you?” He let go of your face, letting you look back to the water turning brown around you.

You swirled your hand in the water, amused by its ripples. “He said you may not look man in the eyes for it disrespects him and taints your soul.” Rip exhaled sharply, staring at you a moment longer before reaching back to get a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink.

He rubbed soap into the cloth, letting it bubble in his hands before running it over your bruised and battered skin, listening to every hiss you let out from the scars it passed over and caught on. Your ribs and inner thighs were the worst of it, all it did was anger Rip more and more by the second.

“I’ve got no respect to lose, you can look at me.” He muttered, running the cloth down your arm. “Your soul… that’s something you can’t touch with your eyes.” You didn’t respond.

He continued to bathe you as you rested your chin on your knees, eyes slowly closing until you couldn’t keep them open any longer, you were used to sleeping in this position, your body accepting it as normal while Rip fought the urge to pull you closer to him.

He’d never felt this with someone before, other than Beth. He wasn’t speaking to Beth anymore, she left and made sure he knew she was done with him, tore his heart out and made him eat it.

He didn’t want to think of that right now, he wanted to help you, that was his focus, his only priority.

~7:45 pm~

Rip had been struggling with your hair for too long, he’d finally managed to get your body clean but your hair was beyond repair. A knotted, matted mess that just needed to be shaved off.

A knock came to the bathroom door and it creaked open and John stepped in, keeping his back to the bath as he held out a pile of clothes. "I got you somethin' to wear, just, uh, put these on when you're done" He said, looking down the hallway with a nervous look etched on his face. "I gotta go find Rip." He said lower.

Rip stopped trying to untangle your hair, it was only harder because you were asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He cleared his throat. "I'm right here, sir" He said softly. "She needed help."

John's head snapped to him before he quickly looked away again to avoid looking at you naked. "What the hell are you doing?! She's been locked up and used like a fucking doll, you don't know what she'll think of this!" Rip hung his head, he knew what John was talking about, seen it in the way you reacted sometimes, your clothes. "You're supposed to be keeping her safe, Rip."

Even with his harsh words and the deeper meaning behind them, it was hard to take him so seriously when he was scared to look into the bathroom. "I-I know, Sir, I was just helping... she needed it..."

John let out a heavy sigh. He set the clothes on the counter beside the sink. "Just finish up and get her into bed, not your bed. I wanna talk to you for a minute." He said, closing the door behind him and heading down the hall to the living room.

Rip let out a heavy sigh, very few times had he disappointed John, he hated it every time. However, he couldn't just get this done quick.

He looked to the counter and pulled out a drawer, looking into it and seeing his razor. It was the best thing for you.

He dried you off and got you dressed, doing his best not to wake up, which turned out to be easier than he’d thought it would be, you were just out and he kept checking your pulse.

He shaved your head, it was better than leaving that mess on your head, then he washed your scalp, being careful around the sores. He carried you to the guest room and tucked you in, running a hand over the fuzz that covered your head now.

John was waiting for him out in the living room, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He stared at Rip as he came down the hall. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Rip inhaled deeply as he took a seat on the other side of the couch. “I was thinking she needed help and I helped… I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think.” John grumbled. “Look, she seems content with you if she was able to sleep, you keep an eye on her.” He stood up and went to the door, stopping just short of it. “That’s all you keep on her, ya hear?” He stated, shooting him a look. Rip nodded and John left.

Rip stayed there a moment, thinking about… everything before eventually getting up and walking back to the guest room where you slept peacefully under the sheets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand down the side of your face. “You’re too young for this.” He muttered to himself.

You began to stir, eyes slowly blinking open and you looked up at him. He stared back at you, your eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, tortured and innocent, there was a purity in them he’d never seen in anything.

“You’re looking at me.” He said, cupping your cheek in his rough, clean hand. His hand had probably never been this clean before in his life.

You brought your hand up to hold his against your face. “You’re pretty.” You mumbled, drawing a chuckle from him.

“Am I?” You nodded with a smile. He sighed and looked over you once more. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated a moment. “Three.” Rip paused.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not your name, that’s a number, I asked for your name.”

You stared up at him with a blank stare, blinking tiredly. “Three.” You repeated.

Rip stared, eyes flickering over your face, taking in your doe like features. “Is that the name he gave you?” You nodded, sitting up with a grunt, body aching. “I’m not calling you that.”

“That’s my name.” You stated firmly, Rip was surprised that you’d use a tone with him but he didn’t care, he wasn’t calling you a number.

For several moments you sat there, staring at each other. Rip brought his hand back to your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. He leaned in and closed the distance between you both, his lips on yours.

It was gentle and warm, passionate but not heated. Love was a complicated concept but you’d never felt it before, he hadn’t gotten ahold of it himself, still, he was determined to show you there were brighter sides to this world than what you’d seen.

A knock on the door reminded him of where he was, who was with, what was happening. He pulled away, seeing the way you were now looking at him; eyes wide, full of something new, something eager and curious.

The knock came again and he got up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He said, giving you a last kiss. “Just lay down, darlin’.” You nodded with a smile as you moved down the bed.

He went to answer the door quickly, rushing to get it open so he could get back to you.

On the other side was Beth. He hadn’t seen her, nor wanted to see her, in so long, what felt like forever.

She was on him in an instant, arms around his neck, his own lifting her up as he carried her to his room. He knew he shouldn’t, that you were waiting for him.

It kept him up late after Beth was done with him, when she was sleeping next to him, using him for warmth, what else it was she’d use him for he couldn’t guess, there were too many options.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Party Animal

Steve hated parties. And who could blame him? The infamous Halloween party of 1984 left more scars on his heart than he carried from all his other misadventures. Alcohol made people say thinks they buried deep inside, but then instead of owning up to them, they'd say "I was drunk", as if that was any excuse. So yes, Steve and parties didn't go together anymore.

And yet he stupidly decided to throw one anyway.

Look, they deserved it. All of them did - Eddie, Nancy, Robin, even Jonathan and Argyle, they all earned acting like actual teenagers for one evening. Steve wanted to see Eddie, now miraculously his boyfriend, just have fun, laugh, be silly. So a party it was.

It all went great - dancing, drinking, nibbling on mountains of Argyle's homemade pizza - but eventually they all got drunk. Not Steve, he just sipped one beer and kept an eye on everyone. Jonathan and Argyle were smoking outside, Nancy and Robin flirted in the most embarrassing way possible and Eddie...

Steve heard sniffling from the bathroom and his heart sank.

He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to be told that this was all a misunderstanding, that he pressured Eddie with his flirting, didn't want to hear he's bullshit again.

But no matter how terrified he was, he could never abandon Eddie. So he went in.

Eddie was leaning over the sink, wiping at his face and trying to control his breathing. "Shit..." he muttered and turned away from Steve. "Sorry, I...uh. I'll be there in a sec."

"Eddie..." It came out as a whisper. "Are...are you okay? Did I do something?"

Eddie just chuckled and pulled hair in front of his face. "Sure did," he mumbled.

And it made horrible sense to Steve. Of course he was the reason Eddie was crying. He couldn't help fucking up, he'd tried so hard to change but apparently it was 1984 all over again. So he took a deep breath and waited for the final blow.

"You're just perfect, Stevie."

Oh.

That wasn't what being broken up with sounded like. In fact, Eddie didn't seem angry at him at all. "...sorry?"

Eddie laughed, wet and high in his throat. "Like, you...you are too good to be true, you know? You throw a party for us and then you even don't drink so we're all cared for if anything happens? You...you give your best friend a green light to date your ex who shredded your heart to pieces? You invite the guy that your ex cheated on you with and his friend? You're just so good about it. And you're funny and so bitchy that I want to kiss you all the time. And I just...I love you so much, you know? And I've never felt that way about anyone and it's fucking scary, man."

Steve's racing thoughts came to a screching halt. Where he was too busy panicking and praying he'd still have time to fix whatever he did, now his brain settled on maybe I'm not getting broken up with? "So, uh..." he muttered as he watched Eddie try fix his eyeliner, "...there's, like, nothing wrong? Or maybe...do you want me to go slower? I know I can be a lot."

His boyfriend gave an incredulous laugh. There was no salvaging the eyeliner now, it was getting caught in Eddie's early crow feet, and Steve had never seen a more beautiful sight. "No, Steve. You're not a lot. In fact, you're just enough in every single way, but knowing that you're it for me, that good things can happen...it makes me terrified. I've never put all my drugs in a single lunchbox, or whatever metaphor you want to use for it, but with you I'm just throwing all the caution into the wind. And for the first time, I..." he stopped, chewing on his lip, "...I don't want to run away when I mess up. I want to stay, face the music and fix it. You're re-writing the Munson doctrine again and again and I just...I don't want you to settle for me, Steve. You are the whole package and I'm still cleaning all my messes. I guess today showed me that and I...yeah. Sorry about all this," he pointed at his tear-streaked face.

Eddie suddenly seemed so small, so insecure, and that wouldn't do. It woke Steve up from his frozen state and he took a step forward, cradling Eddie's face in his palms. "I'm not. Settling for you, that is." He was probably smudging the black even more, but Eddie would have been beautiful to him even fully covered in grime, and there were more important things to focus on. "Eddie, you keep talking about the Munson doctrine and being work in progress, but you don't see how you've thrown all the stuff I used to do out of the window, and I'm better for it. With you, I don't feel rushed, I don't have to perform or pretend. I can just live in the moment."

As he continued his speech, something strange started happening. Seeing people cry normally had a guaranteed effect on Steve - just one tear, quiet sob and he pushed his emotions down to be dealt with later or possibly never, someone needed him, and that was the priority. But now, staring at Eddie's wet eyes and shaky hands? He felt his own face crumbling and what better place to hide it than in Eddie's Metallica t-shirt. It smelled of cigarettes, pizza and the cheap laundry detergent that had come to mean home to Steve. "Sorry," he choked out. "Shit. I was...sorry, I'm supposed to be...you know. Consoling you. But I heard you crying and I thought...I..."

Eddie shook his head and tightened his grip on Steve's waist. "Oh Stevie. Whatever that pretty head of yours thought of, it's not happening. Unless it's kissing me, which duh, that's happening, if you want to of course, and staying with me to the point that you're sick of me."

Steve just whimpered into Eddie's shoulder, something that suspiciously sounded like "Now who's perfect, huh?"

His boyfriend just chuckled. "I guess that in a way, we both are. Maybe for each other?" If he'd aimed for self-deprecating tone, he failed. Instead, it was hopeful.

Steve didn't answer, but his embrace said it all.

They remained wrapped around each other for a long while, until Eddie whispered in Steve's ear: "how about we let the others celebrate on their own, hm? They won't be driving, their stuff is already in the guest bedrooms, and I hear your bed is wonderful this time of the year."

There was a muffled "yes" coming from Eddie's shoulder, and a few adjustments and "Good night!"s later, they found themselves in Steve's bedroom. Eddie managed to remove most of the rogue eyeliner, which was lucky. The time in the bathroom wasn't the last time he shed a tear that day, because as they were falling asleep, Steve said:

"You might be the first person who is dating the real me, and I'd like you to be the last one as well."

Tomorrow, he'd hold a funeral for the Munson doctrine. But today, he was going to wrap himself around Steve like a cuddly octopus and know that even if he doesn't manage to hold on tight the whole night, Steve would be there in the morning.

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine Shana!!! I can't believe i made it finally jgfcjjcgjgx i would love to see some fma (Sacrifice is free/ed&ling betrothed/What They Expect) or more of Lord Arthur De Bois, or time travel Jiang Cheng/drarry, or Avengers' Three Faced Goddess! (can anyone tell I Cannot choose favourites? They're all so gooood) and if none of those sound appealing, dealer's choice! thank you!!

continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

It's sort of awkward, because Eden insists on thick tights and long sleeves and keeps her gloves on, but Catherine takes it in stride and doesn't react with anything more than a single raised eyebrow. Maybe she thinks she has some sort of terrible skin condition on her limbs, or something, because she's perfectly fine with plunging necklines and the lacy bras Catherine shoves at her.

She hasn't worn anything besides a sports bra since she's had breasts. They're not exactly comfortable, but compared to the constant, background ache of the automail it doesn't even make a blip on her radar.

Besides. They make her look like a girl, shoving her breasts up front and center, and their size had been an annoyance when passing for a boy and a comfort when she looked at herself naked in the mirror, searching for the girl she was rather than the boy everyone saw, but this is different.

"Wow," Catherine blinks, tilting her head to the side.

Eden flushes and wishes that at any point she'd learned how to talk to pretty girls outside of life or death situations. "I hadn't realized they - I'm not used to wearing, um, girly stuff."

"You look good in it," she says, touching Ed's back and shifting her to face the mirror.

She's in black tights and boots with a chunky heel, taller than the ones she normally wears and sleeker, stopping just below her knees. She's wearing a dark green dress with a deep neckline. She's used to be hard lines and sharp edges, but she looks soft here, her hips and breasts curving out from her waist and the dress somehow minimizing the breadth of her shoulders, or maybe it's just that with all the skin on display in the center, her shoulders just don't get as much attention. She'd had to build them up, to make the automail balanced, to make sure her body could support it, and she'd always hated how masculine it made her look. But looking at herself now, she wonders if that just wasn't in her head.

Green's never been a color she gravitated towards, but the dark color makes the gold of her hair shine, brings out the warmth of her eyes and the pink of her lips.

"You're really good at this," she tells Catherine, throat tight.

Catherine grins. "You are a beautiful canvas, Eden. It was not difficult." Ed's face burns. "Do you have plans for dinner? We could have it at my home. I am, honestly, dying to curl your hair."

Ed hesitates, because her shade of blonde is rather distinctive, then takes a second look at herself in the mirror. No one is going to think she's the Fullmetal Alchemist looking like this. "Okay, yeah. Sure. That'd be great."

~

Catherine knows that Eden is military at first glance, seeing her elder sister in the way Eden stands and moves. She looks young, but she can't be that young, not when she has the stance of someone who's been enlisted for years.

She figures that Eden is looking for clothes to wear outside of her uniform for the first time and something in her softens at how insistent Eden is on keeping certain parts of her body covered. Her siblings have scars too.

When they get to their home, Eden seems slightly surprised at the grandness of her home, but gets over it quickly, which Catherine almost expected. She hadn't looked at a single price tag as they'd been shopping and had paid for her bags of purchases with a nonchalance that spoke of a familiarity with money, although that leaves Catherine to wonder how she ended up in the military in the first place. She hadn't gotten a last name out of her, but Catherine is familiar with most military families, and she would have heard if any of their daughters had enlisted.

"Your bedroom is so pretty," Eden says, looking around at her pink, frilly room filled with flowers and clothes and gilded in gold with a soft wistfulness.

Catherine loves her. "Thank you. Here, sit at my vanity, let's play."

Eden laughs and pulls her hair out of the hasty ponytail she'd pulled it into, letting Catherine run her hands through it and carefully brush out every knot. It's gorgeous, thick and silky and the most wonderful shade that Catherine's never seen on anyone else.

People always act so oddly with her because of her family, even those similarly situated looking down at her for her choices, to be neither an officer nor married to one, but that's just not what she wants right now. It's nice to hang out with another girl that just treats her like a friend.

"MY BELOVED SISTER HAS RETURNED!" booms from what sounds like the first floor.

She sighs.

Eden goes rigid in her chair, eyes wide. "What - why-"

"It's just my brother," she says soothingly, concerned with how pale Eden has gotten. "He's harmless, really."

"Brother," Eden repeats. "Fuck. Fuck! I'm so stupid-"

"It's okay," she says in alarm, "Eden, what-"

She gets to her feet, grabbing her hands and looking at her a desperation that Catherine doesn't understand. "He can't know I'm here. Who I am. Do you understand? It's important."

She doesn't understand. "Eden-"

There's the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way and Eden wrenches herself away, bolting for the other side of the room. She claps her hands together, then presses them against the wall, and in flash of light she's disappeared.

Catherine stares. mouth agape.

She's familiar with alchemy. The skill has been passed down her family for generations.

Eden didn't use a circle.

"I HEAR YOU HAVE MADE A FRIEND, DEAR SISTER!" Alex shouts, flinging open her door and flexing in the doorway. "I WISH TO MEET YOUR NEW COMPANION!"

She picks up a pillow from her bed and lobs it at him, hitting him right in his stupid curl. "We're having girl time, go away!"

"Ah, girl time!" he says. "A storied tradition that has been passed down the Armstrong family for many generations!" He looks around, seeing her empty room, and his eyebrows dip together.

She grabs a makeup brush, holding it up threateningly. "You know what else has been passed down our family for generations? The art of knocking! Go bother Momma!"

"Where's," he starts.

Catherine throws the brush, pointy end towards his eyes.

He ducks, retreating to the safety of the hallway and closing the door just in time for the brush to hit it.

She takes a deep breath, calming her racing heart and smoothing her hands down her skirt. She crosses the room, knocking against the wall and whispering, "Eden? He's gone."

There's nothing for a moment and then there's light and heat and she's looking at the the inside of her house, pipes and insulation, and Eden standing there in the center of it, eyes blown wide and lips trembling.

Eden, who won't let her look at her limbs and doesn't know how to wear girly things and uses alchemy without circles and recognizes her brother from his voice alone.

"I'm sorry," Eden whispers, arms wrapped around herself, trying to make herself small. "I just wanted-"

Catherine interrupts her, reaching out to place her hand over the arm Eden had been careful not to let her touch and is unsurprised to feel hard, unyielding metal. "The art of secret keeping had been passed down the Armstrong family for generations."

Eden's eyes snap to hers and Catherine smiles, squeezing her arm and hopes that she can feel it. Slowly, wondrously, Eden returns it.

[eroscomet]

Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours

Chapter two- Casual

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Paring: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Warning: Alcohol, mentions smoking, implied sex.

Word count: 2.1k+

Song Inspiration: Casual by Chappel Roan

A/N: Hey lovlies! Finally updating this story. I'm sorry if it seems a bit rushed, I was really trying to get the chapter out for you guys. Thank you all for all the support. Also, I'm working on a writing schedule, i'm just very busy with family and work nowadays. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Feel free to go on my account and check out other stories, I recently released a Wednesday Addams story if that interests you guys. Anways, Enjoy!

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╰┈➤ Series Masterlist

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You can remember how you rekindled your friendship with Tara well. Halloween had come, almost like every movie, there was a University frat party. You were never a fan of parties, especially those of frat houses. They were always known for their outrageous parties that also weren't very sanitary, in your opinion. Still, Anika managed to convince you to have one night of fun. You went to the party as a Fantastic Mr. Fox.

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"Come on, just a few!" Mindy said as she handed you a cup full of whatever spiked drink they had at this party. Anika convinced you to drink at least one cup with both of them. For the most part, they continued to drink while handing you more and more alcohol that you'd set down or give away whenever they weren't looking. You had decided to babysit a single cup to convince them not to hand you more.

The more the party continued, the more that everyone around you had gotten drunk and the crazier the party got. The music was practically blaring, you could feel the bass shaking the house. You had long lost Anika and Mindy by now, shrugging it off since you thought they'd gone off to some corner of the party to make out or something of the sort. 

While walking around the cramped frat house, trying to find the nearest exit to take a breather from the party, suddenly someone was shoved into you. Your arms instinctively caught them, it was obvious that they were drunk. You had almost begun telling off the person who had pushed the other into you, but every thought of that had quickly short-circuited after hearing the voice of the person you had caught earlier.

"Y/N/N!" Tara had chimed as she looked up at you with a smile you knew all too well. 

You had almost instantly recognized that the shorter girl happened to be drunk. If her movements hadn't already given it off, the gloss in her eyes definitely did. Your heart thumped, skipping many beats as you heard the nickname she had always called you when you two were younger. Such a distant memory, yet when the thought reached the front of your brain, it felt like no time had passed at all. The tone sounded almost as if she still cared for you.

You couldn't let your thoughts distract you much right now, though. Tara was right in front of you, shitfaced drunk and obviously in need of someone's support. That someone happened to be you, with no one else that you knew she knew around you two. 

"Awh, it's been so long!" She had managed to say through drunken slurs. The thought of the amount of time that had passed gave your heart a small tug. 

"I know! Hey, let's get you some water, yeah?" You said as you gently grabbed her elbow. The expression on her face told you that she hadn't heard what you said over the blaring music around them. You took it into your hands to simply lead her away from the cramped place and into the kitchen.

Looking back at her, a small smile had crept onto your face. She looked as if she had not one thought behind those glossy eyes of hers. You shook it off as her eyes met yours, quickly whipping your head around and leading her through the kitchen. Your eyes scanned the room full of the other students who were drinking, smoking, laughing, and overall being incredibly loud despite the music that continued to practically shake the frat house.

Seeing the fridge, you quickly lead Tara over to it with you. Upon opening the refrigerator, the light from it casts a glow over the two of you. You knew she was a bit confused with everything going on around her but seemingly happy to be around you. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or you that had made her feel that way. You could only wish that it had been because of you.

Quickly grab two water bottles in your hand before closing the fridge. Your other hand now grabbed her wrist, leading her to the backyard. Upon arriving outside, your eyes scan the yard only to see a couple of people outside. Some smoke, others talk. You coaxed Tara to sit on one of the porch chairs. When she complied, you carefully opened one of the water bottles for her, handing her it. She took a big drink out of it, speaking shortly after swallowing.

"Hey, how come I haven't seen you around? It seems like such a long time since we've talked." She said, her words were slurred.

For a moment, you paused. Your eyes scan her face as if trying to recommit her face to your memory. As if at any moment, Amber would return and steal her away from you like she always did. After registering her words, you spoke.

"Been busy. You know how University gets." You said a bit of guilt washed over you after having lied, even if it was a little one. You couldn't bring yourself to tell her the truth. Tell her that the reason you avoided her was because you were hopelessly in love with her yet every moment you had to tell her, it was always stolen.

"Yeah, I get it. It's nice to see you. You look..different. Not in a bad way of course-" She rambled a bit as she tried to make up for her comment that had come out the wrong way.

"Tara, Tara," You cut her off, your hand gently resting on her shoulder. She snapped out of her rambling, looking up at you. If you hadn't been practically ogling every feature of hers, you could've easily missed the way she had gulped when she paused to look at you. "I didn't take it the wrong way."

A pause of silence stretched out between the two girls. Only the sound of others talking and laughing was heard in the distance, the blaring of the music coming from inside the house. Tara continued to take drinks out of the water bottle.

"You know, back in middle school I had the biggest crush on you," Tara confessed, her words coming out with a smallslur. There had been a small hint of a smile on her face. You felt a pang in your heart when hearing the confession.

"Ha-ha, very funny." You replied as you shook your head. You couldn't tell if you didn't believe her or you didn't want to believe her. Part of you didn't want to believe her because then that meant that you had wasted your chance with her before Amber. The possibilities could be endless with this thought. If you had gotten to her first, would you have saved her? Would anything that had to do with the Ghostface killings ever happen at all? You didn't want to get too caught up with the thoughts, not now at least.

"I'm serious. You have always been sweet to me. Puppy love, I guess."

Puppy love? You knew that what you felt for Tara was past puppy love but hearing her say that her feeling had only been puppy love had caused your chest to ache. You felt as if you were back at square one, feeling more for Tara than she'd ever feel for you. You didn't let it affect you too much right now, though. Especially because Tara's words were fueled by the alcohol in her system. Or so that's what you told yourself.

"Right, I'm pretty sure I liked you too back then." You said as you downplayed your feelings. How could you possibly forget if you had loved this girl for what feels like forever now?

"No way! We could've totally been a thing!" She said in an amused tone with the same smile you had fallen in love with.

"Yeah, we could've. Doubt it a bit, though. That's when Amber-" You had begun to speak before cutting yourself off. You had let her name slip from your mouth, instant guilt had washed over you as you watched Tara's smile drop. How could you have stupidly mentioned the name of her now-dead ex-girlfriend who had tried to murder her?

"Right..." Tara had now muttered as her eyes darted down to the water bottle in her hands.

"Tara, I'm sorry. You know I wouldn't-"

"No, no. It's fine. I mean, fuck her, right?"

"Right." You mumbled, internally scolding yourself. There was a pause of silence that felt stretched out longer than it should have. Seconds of this silence had felt like an eternity.

"Seeing anyone new?" She asked, breaking the silence and switching to another topic.

"Me? Gosh, no." You replied a bit too quickly for your liking, you didn't want to seem pathetic. Plastering a bashful smile on your face you looked at her. "Not into the whole dating scene... Not right now, at least. Hookup culture nowadays is just not my thing."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed. Feels like everyone is just hooking up with everyone."

"Are you..?" You asked. Part of you was curious and the other part felt a bit jealous at the thought.

"Yeah, sometimes." Her reply made your stomach drop a bit but you quickly brushed away the thought and feeling, reminding yourself that she was and has never been yours.

"Cool, cool.." You replied, mentally face-palming your attempt to be 'chill' about the information you just received.

"So, does Sam know you're here?" You asked after a beat.

"Yeah, I have a curfew, though. I'm pretty sure Chad is too smashed to drive me home."

"I could take you home?" You offered with a small smile.

"Really? I mean, I would really appreciate it-" She said before she paused. "Sam's going to kill me when she sees me like this.."

"You can stay over at my place. I'm sure Sam trusts me, right?" You said quickly. "I'll drop you off in the morning."

"You'd really do that for me?"

"Yeah, I mean, you're no stranger to me."

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"Alright, you can sleep in my room." You told Tara as you led her down the hallway of your apartment.

"What? No. I'll take the couch." She protested as she shook her head, grabbing your wrist.

"Tar, it's fine. Trust me, you'll thank me later. You're sleeping in my room. It wouldn't be the first time that I sleep on the couch anyway." You opened the door to your room, leading her inside. She sighed, knowing you're insisting and going to be stubborn about this.

"Fine. I'll make it up to you, promise." She said as she watched you sit on the edge of your bed.

"You won't even remember that in the morning." You said with a small laugh as you shook your head.

You had been so caught up in your head that you hadn't noticed Tara staring at you. She wasn't nearly as drunk as she was before thanks to the water that you insisted she drank. Even then, she somehow gained the strength to approach you, standing between your legs. Your head raised to look up at her in a bit of confusion, you knew yourself well enough to know that the faintest blush adorned your cheeks when looking at her.

"Your face has matured so much.." She muttered as her eyes scanned every feature and curve on your face.

"It comes with growing up." You mumbled a small, horrible joke. Even then, Tara had smiled at the joke.

Before you knew it, Tara's lips were locked onto yours. Her hands cupped your face. For a moment, you had gotten lost in it, allowing yourself to give in to the kiss. When your mind once again came back to haunt you with your thoughts.

"Tara," You said a bit too quietly as you used the bit of strength you had to pull away from the kiss. Your hands held her wrists gently as you pulled away. A small whine had escaped her as you pulled away. 

"It doesn't have to be a big deal." She murmured as she captured your lips again. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the kiss before pulling back.

"I don't do hookups." You said breathlessly as you shook your head.

"We don't have to call it that then." 

Then again, before you knew it, her lips were on yours. The last bit of your restraint fades away as you let yourself have the faintest bit of what you've always wanted. To be something more with Tara, even if it meant to have her like this.

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A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! Please check out my other works if you're interested! Thanks for all the support! Again, i'm working on a writing schedule! Bye, bye lovelies!

[messenger-of-babel]

Partners to Be

Summary: After being out of the field so long, you've been assigned to help Leon rescue the presidents daughter, but who really helps who? (Leon S. Kennedy x reader)

Word Count: 3.4K

Notes: WHERE ARE THE LEON GIRLIES AT? So writing this one I just kept going and going and got a little carried away but it's my first Leon appearance for this month! (he has other fics stored away in drafts). I hope that everyone's enjoyed our first two weeks! halfway there already. It's crazy that it took me this long to put Leon out on the list, so sorry for holding out on y'all. If anyone needs warnings: Swearing, mentions of veins/ blood. I think this is the longest fic I've put up so far so that's pretty wild (as I said, I got carried away but in my defence I was convinced I was cooking).

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Leon Kennedy was a strong man; dare you say the strongest man you'd ever known.

So strong in fact that they had sent him alone to scout for the president’s daughter, being dispatched to a remote area in Spain. As soon as he sent back the sign that she was there, you were flown in almost immediately to assist with getting her back safely.

Your hands had jittered gearing up to meet him, double checking your shoulder holsters to make sure they didn't slip and lead you to an embarrassing death. You hadn't ever worked with agent Kennedy before, but you had seen him around the halls of the DSO, imposing as the legends made him out to be.

The most you had even spoken to him was a casual greeting or a small 'you're welcome' when he thanked you for holding a door open. You were part of a different division, leading to you hardly seeing him around. Not to mention the fact that the man avoided the headquarters like the plague, eyes tired and mouth drawn into a thin line any time he was required to go in.

Now you were strapping up, armed to the teeth to help out the Golden agent on your first field mission in a year. When you finally arrived, you met him a little past the windmill that Hunnigan guided you to, and it had been so much worse than you thought.

Arriving, you had encountered a town square filled with dead bodies, faces warped and bubbled. If the fresh blood hadn't been there, you would have been convinced that they'd died a long time ago. You followed the carnage to the windmill, spotting your partner-to-be hidden off the path and hurrying over to him. "Agent Kennedy," you greet politely, slightly out of breath. "What's happened here? What's wrong with the villagers?"

Your blood freezes in your veins as he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, mouth pressed into a thin line. He draws his gun faster than you can blink, the barrel coming close than you'd like to your face before releasing a loud BANG. you flinch from the loud sound, and for a second you thought he had tried to kill you. Whirling around you see a villager writing on the road, axe in hand. Wordlessly he pushes past you, kneeling over the body and driving his knife into the side of the villager’s neck. The gurgles and scream die down with the writing, until the villager goes still.

You feel a light tremor in your hands at the efficient way he just disposed of someone, his face turning to meet your gaze. "They're not villagers, not anymore." he says, cleaning the blood from his knife in the crook of his elbow. "You're cleared to shoot to kill. They'll attack you the moment they see you."

You just nod, double checking that safety was off on your own handgun. He regards you for a silent moment, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "You're from division four, aren't you?" he asks curiously. "On Jacobs's team."

You wince at the name of your old field captain. "Yeah, I was. I got reassigned as a solo agent last year." you say bitterly, something not unnoticed by him.

"Shouldn't they have kept you on that team? I saw that Jacobs wasn't there anymore, but just because he got re-assigned it doesn't make sense to just discard an entire recon squad."

You follow after him as he begins walking further down the path, tilting his head to gesture for you to follow.

"Yeah, I mean, Jacobs is dead, so…" you say awkwardly, fiddling with your holster. He turns at that, eyes widening slightly.

"Jacobs is dead?" he parrots back to you, incredulous. "Shit…I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I just knew I hadn't heard of him recently. I didn't realise that Jacobs of all people was really gone."

You nod along, kicking rocks with your boot. "Yeah, surprised everyone." you say softly, thinking of your hard ass captain who managed to weasel his way out of death more times than a cockroach.

"What about the rest of your team? Did they also turn to being a solo agent?" He looks down at you with a curious expression. Your face scrunches up, and he catches the flicker of pain that skirts the edges of your lips.

"They're dead." you say, breaking away from his gaze and quickening your pace.

"I'm sorry." he says gruffly, albeit a little awkwardly. "It happens a lot in this line of work, still doesn't make it any better."

You nod along, heart heavy despite his rough attempt at soothing the sting. You walk a little more, feeling the unsaid question hanging in the air. you know he wants to ask, but the glimmer in his eyes when you catch his gaze tells you that he doesn't want to pry.

"It was my fault, you know." you say softly, sighing out.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I know we all have-" he starts, but you cut him off by raising your hand.

"It's fine. It's been a year, I'm over it now." you mumble. "Besides, it'll be good to clear the air." you exhale, and your shoulders drop, his eyes holding a curiosity you know he feels guilty for even having. "We received intel about a terrorist attack, tracked them down to their hideout. I was tasked with disarming the bomb remotely while they took down the rest of the organisation so none of them could make a runner." you say, memory vivid in your mind. "They…they managed to re-trace my signal, someone on their side, I mean. Completely shut me off and cut my communication access. I couldn't disarm the bomb, and I couldn't tell my team." you breathe out, and the action is shakier than you'd like. "I watched it happen. I couldn't do anything, and it's all because I accidentally raised an alarm on their side."

He doesn't say much, face blank and devoid of emotion for a full moment. "It wasn't your fault." he says finally, giving you a once over. "Like I said before, we lose people all the time in this job, it’s a part of the job description. A real shitty part if you ask me." he laughs out bitterly, checking his handgun as he comes to a stop at a rickety bridge in front of you. "I'm sorry for your loss, but you need to get back into the field. Not that you have much choice, you're here now. Don't forget them but leave them at the door." He says, a rough hand coming up to grip your shoulder.

His words are like a cold shock of water, slapping you in the face. Everyone else had been coddling you since their deaths, giving you easier assignments and pitying amounts of paperwork. In contrast, Leon was showing you a tough love that everyone else had been hesitant to deliver. He tilts his head to the bridge. "When you cross that bridge, leave them on this side." he says firmly. "Distractions will get us killed, and your team wouldn't want you to die for it, not like that. Besides," he shrugs, offering you a small smile. "I need a partner to get this done, not a space cadet."

The small joke makes a smile creep onto your lips. "Thanks, Agent Kennedy." you say genuinely, lifting your chin just a fraction higher. He shakes his head, soft blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. "No need. and call me Leon." he says, stepping onto the flimsy bridge and beginning to cross. 'Leon' you say under your breath, feeling how his name sounds on your tongue. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves and saying a quiet prayer for your teammates before your boot makes contact with the flimsy wood.

He was right. You were back in the field, and you weren't going to let any partner or team of yours get hurt like that again. That was your personal mission.

You learnt while going to rescue Ashley that he was a lot different from what the other agents made him out to be. He was considered a knight in shining armour, a golden agent who was unbeatable in everything he did while adding charismatic flair on the top. You soon realised that he was begrudging at best for a knight, and the charisma came out of dry sarcasm and witty quips. he wasn't an agent who did it for crown and country, he was an agent who did it because he had no other choice, and doing the job meant he could get home quicker. You couldn't deny that he was unstoppable though.

No matter what monstrosity you came up against, your new partner didn't so much as flinch, taking each enemy out with lethal precision. His attitude began wearing off on you and slowly you remembered what it was like to be in the field, instincts sharpening and panicked breathing slowing to a steady intake.

"You're not a bad shot," he said to you after you handed back the stingray he let you borrow, taking off some guards on the castle battlements before you had to pass through the area. You felt yourself flush slightly, not from the words, but the genuine tone he used. Despite only just formally meeting, you found conversation flowing easily between you two, natural and unhindered. You had to attribute some of that to your surroundings, seeing as neither of you really had any other choice of company. Not any company that wanted you alive anyways.

Everything had gone well, going a lot smoother than any of your other missions before. You think it started going sideways as soon as you lost Ashley in the ballroom, being forced to scurry in the underground of the castle. The little pet of Ramone had chased you both through the tunnels, the Right Hand of Salazar managing to get a good hit on your side before Leon froze it, albeit temporarily. Hauling your arm over his shoulder he pulled you to the elevator and started it up, leaving the beast behind. He investigated the wound that was now burning and turning black at the edges.

"We need to see if it's infected-"

Both of your wince and reach for your head at the same time, a ringing filling your ears and a throbbing starting in your skull. Then the image of the man, the thing that started all of this, filled your mind’s eye. Saddler preached to both you and Leon, but unfortunately it was like radio static, your connection not strong enough to be controlled fully. When it releases you both let out a gasp, your eyes meeting his blue ones.

"I think it's infected." you say dryly, and he rolls his eyes. However, his lips tick up slightly.

Maybe he really was rubbing off on you.

Then you lost Luis.

Leon patted your shoulder when Luis passed, seeing the crinkle of your nose as you closed his eyes and placed his hands peacefully in his lap. Leon didn't need to ask to see that you were reliving the way you lost your team. So much for not losing anyone this mission,' you scold yourself bitterly, you and Leon moving on and leaving your friend behind to his eternal rest. You didn’t need to ask if he was upset either. you saw it in the way he fought Krauser, muscles tensed and jaw clenched as he took down his old mentor. You placed the hand on the shoulder for him then, and he covered it with his own gloved one before squeezing lightly. He dropped it a moment after, and you both continued.

There was a mission after all.

Now this was the final nail in the coffin. You had retrieved Ashley, keeping her between the both of you to protect her from all sides. Your chest burnt, ugly scar sitting in the middle if your chest from having to burn out the plagas. It had developed quickly, the sliver that wormed it way into your skin during your fight with the Verdigo spawning into an ugly juvenile parasite. Luis had saved the both of you even after death, and you could see the light at the end of the tunnel for this hellscape of a mission. That is of course, until you saw him.

He had been pulling up the rear, but Ashley tugging on your arm made you stop and turn. Leon had slowed, hand to his head and cringing badly. Your heart fills with fear, and you race to him, pulse thudding in your ears. "Hey, you with me, Kennedy?" you ask, shaking him lightly to try to snap him out of it. He only groans in pain, knees buckling as he falls. Crouching immediately, you lift his face up to meet his eyes, and you freeze. Black veins are mapped across the expanse of his face, tendrils trying to strangle the blue of his irises. They continue a path down his neck in thick black streaks, wrapping around his arms like strings. His forearms struggled with the effort to keep himself upright.

"Is he going to be okay?"

You turn, hearing Ashley's worried voice. you give her a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. "He's going to be." your murmur.

"Come on, Leon." you urge. "we're almost there, we're almost home."

He lets out a shaky breath, coughing violently and hands curling into fists as he doubles over. One of his closed fists grab your hands, bringing it down with him. The cement is cold but his fingers are warm, and when he squeezes your hand tight in a few rhythmic pulses, you know what he's saying.

It makes your heart stop.

"Ashley, go just ahead, around that corner." you instruct, gesturing with your head for her to continue to the end of the hall you were all heading towards.

"What about-"

"Just go." you snap, and the waver in your voice is evident. She nods fearfully, casting one last glance at you both before turning and hurrying off.

"Talk to me, Kennedy." you say, squeezing his hand back. "Do we need to get you back in the chair? Is it still in there?" you ask, trying to keep your voice level but get the information you need out of him. He shakes his head.

"No time." he breathes out, body relaxing as he struggles to sit up and lean back on his legs. With your help you manage to get him upright again, his skin hot and veins writhing under his skin. You support him to standing, but he brushes you off with a stumble.

"He…He's in my head." he grits out. "There's lots…there's noises…sounds. This isn't me." he gasps out, struggling to keep his breathing even.

"What can I do?" you ask, voice tinged with desperateness, hands beginning to shake. "Leon, we got to get you home. We're gonna go home." you stress to him, voice beginning to choke up. He stands tall, straightening himself out. "We don't have much time." he grits through his teeth. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything." is your automatic response, taking a step forward to catch him if he falls agian. He gives you a sad smile before reaching for something on his belt, eyes never leaving yours as he offers it out to you.

"No." you say firmly, trying hard to control your racing mind and brimming tears. "No. I'm not doing that." you choke out.

"You've gotta." he says, voice quiet. "Take it." he shakes it in front of you and the tears finally drip forth as you look down properly at the smooth handle of the gun. "The mission is to get Ashley out, that's your first priority." he says.

'Not my mission,' you want to say, but your throat closes up. "You mean our first priority." you force out." No. I won't do that. I can't do that. Not again." your voice cracks and you clamp a hand over your mouth to try and keep the sound in. His eyes soften and he reaches out to gently grip your wrist and pull you forward. you can see how badly he's fighting it, the shake in his hands and the tension in his muscles while a war rages in his mind.

"If not for Ashley and the mission, then for me." he forces out. "Please. I don't want to be one of them, and if I turn, I will hurt you. Saddler will make me, and you know that." he says firmly, shaking your wrist. A tear rolls down the tip of your nose as you reach out with your free hand to grip the handle of the gun, grip smooth under your palms.

"I'm not like your team," he says, staring directly into your eyes. You can see the kaleidoscope in his own, morphing from fear to guilt to panic and finally determination. "I want this. I'm asking you to do this for me." He murmurs, tone softer. He sighs out, a ragged sound and his eyes flutter shut as the veins in his neck flare.

"Please," he grits out. "If anyone is going to do it, I want it to be you. Only you." he breathes out, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You're my partner, after all."

You try to give a grin in return, heart leaping and tearing itself apart at being called his partner. You take a step back, hands trembling as you cock the gun. "What a day at the DSO that will be," you say, voice shaky and tears spilling over the apple of your cheeks. "Golden boy Kennedy actually accepting a partner request."

Your smile shakes violently as he lowers himself to his knees, blue eyes looking up at you. The eyes that always seemed so tired, now shimmering with the yearning to go to sleep. To go to peace.  "There's a first time for everything." he quips back softly. "You can do the paperwork though."

You try to make the sound to laugh, but the thickness in your chest and throat strangles the sound before it could leave. You raise the gun to his forehead, barrel smooth against his skin, cool metal brushing some of the icy gold strands to the side.

"Goodnight, Leon." you say, voice wispy. Despite the ache that had settled in your chest and stung your bones, you put as much warmth, love and kindness you could into your last words to your coworker. Hoping he can sense the longing and hope for all the missions you could have gone on together, the quiet nights at the bar. You manage a shaky smile for the man in front of you, mourning the memory of your future.

The partner you never got to have.

"See you in the morning." he replies quietly, a small smile flitting over his face as he closes his eyes and lets go. The veins and plagas in his body wriggles in glee for a full moment when he stops resisting, before being silenced by a single, crisp, gunshot.

Bang.

When you open your eyes, you bring your arm to your mouth so you don't throw up in horror, ears still echoing the sound of the shot over and over. Your hand grows limp but still steady on the gun, part of you still in disbelief you had the courage to pull the trigger. You look at the gun in your trembling hand, thumb running over the 'L.S.K' engraved on the grip. You don't cast your eyes down, you can't. You know that if you do, you'll never unsee it as long as you live. Marching on your heel before you make a mistake, you suck in a gasp of air to try and control your sobs.

You grab Ashley's arm roughly as you pass her in the hall, her eyes fearful and panicked. "Hey!" she protests. "What about Leon-"

"Leon's dead." you hiss out, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as she wrenches from your grip. You look down, lips pursed and a hot despair coursing through your veins. With shaky hands you reload the gun, gripping it so tight your knuckles press uncomfortably against the skin.

Leon was dead, and if you had a say in anything, that Saddler fucker was about to be too.

[lover-girl-estxx]

Not my gif

Season 4 episode 10 spoilers (haven't finished this season)

this is Angst Angst Angst

| 3rd Person POV |

Y/n didn't even know what day it was, she been in her and jjs bed- well I guess just her bed now. Since they got back from Morocco, her mind couldn't wrap around the fact that her boyfriend since freshman year was gone. I mean he has to come back right? She thought everyone came back, Big John, ward, John b and Sarah they all came back.

She laid there for days just thinking about everything, thinking that when JJ looked to her on that island and asked "you wanna just stay here and never leave? Surf all day, catch fish, hook up whenever sounds good to me" with a big smile across his face she brushed him off but now she'd take it all back and say "yeah Jay let's stay here forever".

"she's been in there for 4 days we have to do something" John B said "what can we do?" Kie said "something" Sarah added "I'll make her food okay?" Pope said standing up. "Hey Y/n" he said softly peeking his head in the door, She wrapped up in JJs hoodie zoning out but reruns of they're favorite shows played. She slightly looked over at him "I brought you some food" he set it on her nightstand "you need anything else?" He added she shook her head, his hand went over the handle "thanks Pope" she whispered "yeah".

It turned dark out and it dead silent in the house now, she put her shoes on and grabbed her backpack. And slipped out the window of the room. She finally got to the liquor store "two 5th of you cheapest vodka please" she said and put a leader of Coke "ID" the woman asked Y/n pulled out her fake ID and handed it to her.

Now that was her thing crying and drinking the thought of him away. The times she would get up it would be to look at something else of jjs. This time she looked out her window, John B stood in front of a tree out front JJ Maybank craved into it she took her bottle and went outside. "hey y/n" she stood next to him "hey.." he looked down to see that bottle in her hand and the smell coming off her breath "how many have you gone through?" she shrugged he took the bottle from her softly "you shouldn't be doing that its a waste" "it makes me feel okay" "does it make you forget he's dead?" her eyes opened "no but I think I should punish myself a little for leaving him there alone" "JJ would understand why we left him okay? he wouldn't want you to punish yourself you gotta stop" he wrapped his arm around her "yeah I know I just- I don't know".

Y/n thought instead of dying for herself she was gonna live for JJ. The next day they took notice that Y/n was moving around cleaning her room, they went in not saying anything just helping her. they'd find things of JJs and set it aside slowly building a corner of all his stuff for her to look at through the day.

Y/n found herself every morning on the water surf for him, swimming for him and boating for him.

| 6 Years Later |

"this was your Uncle JJs board when he was you age" Y/n said pulling the board of of the surf shed her God son standing next to her "I don't know if I can use it, it's a lot bigger than mine" "you'll do great! grab the towels bubba" he hopped in the truck while Y/n loaded they're boards.

Y/n was sat straight on her board he was laying on his board "okay Jay this one coming is yours" she helped turn his board around, he went and stood up "YES JJ!" she yelled and clapped. she rode in "good job!" she smiled and gave him a high five "thanks" he smiled back.

"Uncle JJ surf like all the time?" he asked strawberries covered his face "yeah even one time him and your dad went surfing in a hurricane it was dumb but they loved it" "sounds fun" "no JJ never do that" "I think I like the beach as much as Uncle J" she smiled and felt tears raise in her eyes "I think you do to" she ruffled his hair making him giggle.

[alchemistc]

won't make my mama proud

read on ao3

Buck's just gonna say it. He's not gonna be cagey about it. He's not gonna make it weird. Everyone important doesn't need an announcement, they'll - they'll see him, and they'll understand, and Buck will get to enjoy himself.

His parents are the wildcard.

"E- Buck," his mom starts, brow furrowed as she looks at the seating chart. She's getting better at catching herself, and it's small fries but it's not nothing. "Why did George get moved to table seven?"

He'd been a little giddy, sitting at Maddie's kitchen table with the seating chart out, the tips of his ears bright red and the smile refusing to leave his face, basking in the little hip-shake arm-wave dance Maddie'd done when he asked if she could fit a plus one in.

Buck honestly couldn't remember who they'd moved to make it work, but it'd made the most sense - Tommy knew Bobby and Athena, he knew Karen and Eddie and Marisol, he wouldn't have to sit with a table of strangers who didn't even know a "George" anyway.

His mom's eyes flit to the extended family table, where Tommy has been tucked in between Eddie and Denny. He'd made the place card himself, intent to match the script from the printers, tongue sticking out as he swooped the 'Y' out in gold Sharpie on a piece of leftover cardstock cut to match.

"Uh - I'm bringing a date, after all," Buck says, and he watches his mom slide through names, a mental list of people she vaguely knows of. The Marisol thing had been a point of contention - extended family meant family to Margaret and Phillip Buckley, and they'd already made an exception to let Chim include Eddie and his son at that particular table. They'd acted like the relationship to the bride and the groom was going to be hovering over the top of each table. So. She knows the name Marisol. She knows Athena and Bobby. Knows Karen.

The list of potential dates is growing smaller by the minute and clearly it's not computing.

He's just gonna rip the bandaid off. "His name is Tommy. My date."

Once upon a time, he'd have taken an opportunity like this to make sure he was the center of fucking attention for as long as he possibly could be. Maybe drive home the point that his parents didn't know him as well as they claimed they did. Definitely press their buttons, see if he could invite a reaction out of them.

Now he waves off his mother's confused silence. "I already ran it by Maddie and Chim, they know him." Sort of. It's too complicated to explain to his parents, right now. Maybe if the dancing goes well, at the reception. Maybe once he's snuck about fifty more kisses in.

"Buck, you can't bring a friend as a plus one to your sister's wedding."

He doesn't see why not, really, but that's - very much not the point. Oh. Oh yeah, that's a little painful. He gets why Tommy'd slammed the brakes, now, when he'd stuck his foot in it.

"Good thing he's my date, then, mom."

Even after all this time, he always feels like he's one bad interaction away from laying into his parents, but he tempers it. This isn't really about him, or them. This is about Maddie's wedding, which is two days away and doesn't need the distraction of the brides family having it out. Again.

"What do you mean?" she asks, and - her defensive voice always sounds like she's expecting a direct attack, teeth at her jugular and she's too frail to stop it. He's always hated the way she does that, because it always makes her sound like the victim of a heinous crime when half the time she's just trying to deny something she's been accused of.

Buck takes a deep breath through his nose. "Tommy. He's my date to the wedding. Once we've all eaten and toasted at the reception he'll be the one I'm getting drinks for, he'll be the one I'm introducing to Maddie's work friends, he'll be the one I'm dancing with." He'll be the one I'm going home with, Buck doesn't say, even if he really fucking wants to. He'd gotten a dick pic for the first time last night that had rocked his entire fucking world and he's very ready to explore the realities of finally understanding he's attracted to the male form in a sexual way.

She goes through what seems like all the stages of grief at once. Not unexpected, but still kinda shitty to witness. But she's - they're both better. His parents are trying. He'll give them that. She shores up a PTA mom smile.

"Oh. I didn't know you... Well I just didn't know."

"It's new," he says, because now doesn't feel like the time to tell her he's been analyzing old friendships for weeks now, that his penchant for trying to create deep bonds with men he admires has taken on a new meaning to him. He doesn't want to get into the conversation he'd had with Tommy two nights ago, Tommy laughing but understanding as Buck regaled him with the tale of how he'd followed the varsity kicker around like a lost puppy for most of his junior year and he'd only just figured out why. "Tommy used to work at the 118, though, so he's not exactly a stranger."

He doesn't really feel like giving her more than that. It's new to him, too, it's new and fragile and it's settling warm in his gut, this feeling like he finally knows the way to make a proper chili is to add some unsweetened cocoa powder. The recipe works without it but it was never quite right, until the secret ingredient got thrown in.

"You'll have to introduce us," his mom says, and Buck thinks about it - about the way Tommy will internalize the confused looks his parents try to hide, and the way Buck will want to curl tighter around him because of it, the way he'll want to shrink under the force of his parents never quite getting him and how he knows, he knows Tommy won't let him shrink.

"Yeah," he says, and his mind goes back to thinking of Tommy in a suit.

Tommy with a button undone that turns into three by the third song, Tommy fiddling with cufflinks, Tommy with suspenders, Tommy's ass in a pair of crisp tapered trousers. Buck wonders if he's an ankle sock with dress shoes guy.

His mom turns back to her trove of little gift bags, plastic crinkling as she ties another finished one off. He's - it feels a bit like he's waiting for a shoe to drop, sitting there next to her as her hands continue to pull jute twine from its roll in even six inch lengths, cutting them, twisting bags and tying them off.

Their hands meet the next time he slides a pile of filled bags over to her -- a bubble jar, three Jordan almonds, four Kisses, a quarter inch of crinkle paper on the bottom. Buck goes to move his hand back and her soft, wrinkled hand reaches out to pat his knuckles before she returns to her twine.

-----

He picks up Tommy's call when he's halfway home. "Hey," he says, and he knows Tommy can hear the smile in his voice. He can't bring himself to care.

"Hey. Did you already eat at your sisters?"

"No, my parents took Jee out to dinner so Maddie and Chim could have the night before Maddie imposes her weird twenty-four hour no contact rule."

"You Buckley's," Tommy says, and there's something fond in his voice that makes Buck's heart squeeze, just a bit. "I know I'll see you tomorrow night, but I thought, if you're not busy --."

"I'm not busy," Buck interrupts, and Tommy's little chuff of a laugh echoes back at him.

"Maybe I'm about to ask you to detail my truck for me."

Buck's still trying to find the right way to word his thoughts about armor-all and gear shafts when Tommy cuts across them.

"Low hanging fruit, Evan," he warns, even though he can't have possibly known what Buck was thinking.

"I was thinking about the twig, not the berries," Buck shoots back, and Tommy groans.

"You have sufficient evidence not to call it a twig."

"Which is why I was trying to compare it to the gear shift, before you derailed that train of thought."

"Do you wanna come over for dinner or not, Evan Buckley?"

Buck taps his thumbs on the steering wheel, does a little jig in his seat, tries not to smile so wide that he scares the driver next to him as he coasts to a stop at a red light.

"Are the berries on the menu?"

"The stick shift too, if you're lucky."

"This metaphor is getting a little murky."

"If you wanted to stop for shitty burgers I wouldn't mind," Tommy admits, voice softening, and Buck is already trying to plot out the best route to In-N-Out from here to Tommy's. "If you think of a way to make an Animal Style innuendo you are not getting into my pants tonight."

"I'll stick with the hot meat puns, then."

Tommy laughs, bright and loud, goofy like he can't quite control it, and Buck settles into his seat, flipping his blinker to get into the turn lane so he can double back a few blocks.

"You far enough away I can hop in the shower without telling you where I keep my hide-a-key?"

"Yeah, but maybe you should tell me anyway."

Tommy hums, and something settles under Buck's skin when Tommy gives him a frankly ridiculous set of instructions that no first responder is ever gonna follow in an emergency when they could just kick the door in, dispatch instructions be damned.

It's far too early in this, but Buck's pretty sure he's deep enough in this that it wouldn't weird him out if Tommy told him to keep the spare. He doesn't, and Buck doesn't mind, but it's there, in the back of his mind, that feeling like they're both in this for the long haul.

"Hey, I told my mom you're coming as my plus one," Buck says into the comfortable silence that drifts over the line. Tommy knows the bare minimum about his family, really, but he knows that's significant all the same.

"How did that...go?" And Buck keeps forgetting that Tommy wasn't always confidently out, that he's experienced the coming out conversation with a lot worse results than Buck's experienced, so far.

"She was mostly weirded out that you made George move to table seven," Buck jokes, because he's not sure he's fully unpacked how he feels about it yet, and Tommy - Tommy gets that.

"If I'm stepping on toes, I don't mind sitting with all the weird singles and estranged aunts, Evan," Tommy assures, for the twentieth time.

"You're sitting with the people I want you to be sitting with," Buck reminds him, and hopes he understands the part of that that Buck doesn't know how to say out loud yet.

"Noted," he says, that same tone as when he met Buck for coffee, a few weeks ago now, the weight of understanding the things between the lines.

"Go shower," Buck tells him, and tries not to let his imagination run too wild at the thought. "I'll see you in a bit."

Tommy doesn't immediately respond, and Buck can imagine him on the other side of the call, debating whether or not to make the dumb joke about detailing his gear stick himself. He clearly has better impulse control than Buck. "See you soon," he says after a beat, and hangs up before Buck can draw him back in.