#also I feel like I switched tenses multiple times... once again we move

[jewishbuckley]

“You introduced me as your boyfriend.”

Not a question – a statement, and with that statement the smile falters on Evan’s face. It’s brief, almost undetectable, but not to Tommy. Being with Evan means hearing what he’s saying, but also seeing what he’s not saying, because whatever Evan has gone through in the past makes him guarded, and that’s what Tommy sees now.

Evan is smiling but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, his fingers have knotted together, and his shoulders are hunched – bracing for the rejection he thought he knew was coming. "I did. Was that not okay?"

“It was more than okay,” he is quick to say, voice soft as if he might spook him, and he closes the distance between them in a couple large strides. “It was great. Just… unexpected but in a good way.” He takes Evan’s hands in his, unknotting his fingers from each other to slot their fingers together instead, and he senses the tension melt from Evan’s shoulders with his words and actions.

“I’m glad,” Evan whispers, breath fanning across Tommy’s face, and this time his smile reaches his eyes.

[astronomoney]

IDK if you're still taking requests or not, but the latest fix on D. Wayne was 😍🥰. For part 2 can you add the prompts 11 from fluff, 6 from angst and 20 from neutral pretty please?🥺🥺

Pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!reader (age 16ish)

Prompts: Prompt list ☁︎11- “Hey hey hey, it’s ok i’m here. It’s just me ok, you’re safe.” ᜊ6- “I don’t care about you anymore.” “i’m starting to think you never did.” ⚛︎20-“Please be quite, i can’t even hear myself losing my will to live.”

Summary: After the fight you had with Damian things have been tense but sometimes bottling up your emotions only make things worse (i can’t do summary’s to save my life) enemies-to-lovers because i’m a sucker for that shit

Warnings: Blood, swearing, kinda character death i guess, Damian being a dick as always, angsty teens being angsty teens

A/n: this is a part 2 but you can find part 1 here once again this took waaaay to long to write literally i could not figure out what to do but whatever because i did it and i’m proud of myself for it (Masterlist)

Word count: 3k jeez these are getting longer

Tag list: @battlenix @pleasestophoney wow look at that multiple tags

Part 1

Love and War pt2

Spending spring break in Wayne manor had its ups and downs. Ups included a huge library in the south wing, delicious homemade meals every day, and the best water pressure you’d ever experienced. The downs included 8 hours of training daily, getting lost while trying to find a bathroom, and having to spend way too much time with your arch enemy.

Technically he's not your enemy. At least he’s not supposed to be. After the fight you had last week you couldn’t be sure. You’d had fights with Damian before but this felt different. Usually after a fight he'd sulk for a few hours but then it would go back to normal, but this time it didn’t go back to normal. Damian had been avoiding you for almost 8 days.

You knew the fight ended too soon and you both had more to say but if he was going to act like a child and ignore you then you weren't going to stop him. You still had to patrol with him but it was considerably quieter. The manor was big enough for the both of you and after a few days you'd figured out his schedule and how to get around him. Tim let you train with him, so as long as you stayed on your side of the gym and Damian stayed on his you didn't have to interact with him at all.

It wasn't until the 4th day of break that you had to talk to him. Bruce had to go meet with the league for the day so training ended early. You had a couple hours before dinner and decided reading would be the best use of that time. You walked down one of the many hallways lazily dragging your hand along the wall until you reached a door. You couldn't remember exactly where you were but you were about 75% sure there was a couch in this room, so you pushed the door open.

Inside you found tall ceilings paired with dark wallpaper, a tall window with the thin white curtains pushed out of the way, and a couch. Actually it was three couches but after 4 days staying here you'd gotten used to the large number of furniture that was there for no reason.

The couches formed a square with the open side facing the window lined wall. The first two couches were empty but when you stepped farther inside the room you saw someone sitting on the third one. Of course the one room you picked to go into also happened to be the one room Damian was sitting in. He looked up from his sketchbook and immediately frowned.

There were two options in front of you. You could back out of the room and leave him be but then you'd be backing down from something that might not even turn into a fight which made you seem weak so really you were left with only one choice. You straighten your back and closed the door behind you, officially leaving you in a room alone with Damian for the first time since the fight. You walked over to the couch facing the windows head on and sat down on the side farthest from him. He watched you the whole time but you paid him no attention, instead you simply opened your book and began reading.

You felt his eyes leave your form and you let out a quiet breath. You heard a page turn and a  pencil being dragged lightly across paper. It had been over a week but nothing seemed to be getting better between you and him. Patrols were a nightmare beforehand but now that he'd switched from constant criticism to almost no comments you found that you preferred the former.

Damian's pencil against the paper was the only sound in the room and yet the silence seemed so loud. You hated it. You hated having to avoid him all the time. You hated not being able to talk to him anymore. You hated how far away he felt even when he was right next to you. Above all you hated that you didn't hate him as much as you used to.

You never realized how much you talked to him until you didn't. It was a weird feeling to miss someone when you hadn't even known you cared about them. You honestly just wanted to apologize and let things get back to normal but as you sat there staring at your book you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

After three to many nightmares where Damian got hurt, you finally realized how badly you needed him back. So you took a deep breath, swallowed your pride, opened your mouth, and prayed to god that something would come out.

"Look-"

"Damian-" you both spoke at the same time. "Sorry, you go first." You apologized.

"No you can go first." He replied almost nervously. That couldn't be right, he never got nervous.

"Uh I was just going to say, well i've been thinking lately,"

"You?" He asked sarcastically.

"Oh haha really funny. Will you just listen for a goddamn second." He was not making this easy. "I know we haven't been talking much ever since, well you know and uhh." You couldn't find the right way to word it. You were still too stubborn to outright apologize but you knew he would never say sorry unprompted. "You've just seemed... off, lately and if it has something to do with me-"

"It doesn't." He cut you off. "I'm not 'off' and even if I was you definitely wouldn't be the cause." His expression was blank but calculated.

"Well jeez you don't have to be so rude about it." You sneered back at him. "What were you trying to say anyway." So much for your apology.

"I've convinced father to change our partners." His voice was flat and he seemed bored with the conversation.

"You what?" You stood up. You couldn't believe he actually did that without talking to you first.

He stood up as well and was a few inches higher than you. "We don't work well together, you can't tell me you don't agree."

"I don't! We've been a great team! Remember the Penguin pen raid or Mr Freeze's death ray thingy." you exaggerated your point by waving our hands through the air. "We stopped those. Together. You can't just go around changing things without asking me first!" You were fuming.

"Sure I can! We only stopped those villains because of what I did, you just got in the way." he pointed at you.

Here we go again, the blame game. The endless cycle of 'he did this she did that'. You were so sick of it. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can hold my own on the field just as well as you can. And you know what! I don't even want to be your partner anymore."

"Neither do I! You can go play hero with someone else while I do all the real work. I never wanted you on the team in the first place!" He stared you down and if you weren't so fired up you'd probably be intimidated.

"God you're so annoying!” You threw your hands up in frustration. “You think you're so great and no one can even come close to you but in reality you're exactly like the rest of us!"

What were you doing? This wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to apologize and make things right but now here you were screaming at him again. You almost couldn't help it. Fighting him gave you a sort of rush that you craved. It was like a drug and you were addicted to the pain. You didn't want to fight him but it was the closest thing to a conversation you'd had in over a week and at this point it was enough to satisfy your need.

"I'm going to prove that i'm better than you. I'll do it on my own too!" You told him.

"Go ahead and try! You can do whatever you want because I don't care about you anymore."

You stepped back, stood as tall as you could without going on your tiptoes and took a breath. "I'm starting to think you never did." You said calmly, it seemed to catch him off guard and he didn't retaliate. You grabbed your book and turned towards the door. Dick was standing there, completely still and staring at you and Damian.

"Woah." He said awkwardly. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation he'd just stumbled on.

You pushed past him and into the hallway. Tears were building up in the corners of your eyes so you had to move fast, the last thing you needed right now was for them to see you cry. 

Damian watched you walk out before turning around and groaning. "I can't believe her," he muttered to himself. "I'm starting to think you never did. That doesn't even make sense."

"Because... you do care about her?" Dick asked. It probably wasn't the best choice of words.

Damian looked back at him with an almost offended expression. "That's ridiculous! I don't care about her, that was basically the whole point of our conversation."

"Was that a conversation? The part of that 'conversation' I saw seemed more like her yelling at you and then you... yelling back." He stated the obvious.

"That was completely her fault," Damian defended. He seemed angry but it wasn't his usual kind. Usually it was directed at someone or something and usually that thing would get acquainted with his katana but this time he was mad at himself and he couldn't understand why. "I don't care about her." He repeated quietly almost trying to remind himself more than anything.

You spent the rest of the day hiding in the guest room. You planned on staying there forever and letting yourself fade out of existence but the universe had other plans. 3 hours, 5 episodes of your favorite show, and a nest made of blankets later you got a call from Tim asking you to come to the cave.

He didn't tell you why he needed you, he just said to meet him in the lower level of the cave so when you got there you were very surprised to find him and Damian standing in the hallway. You groaned internally and considered turning around and just walking away but Tim spotted you before you could. Damian's back was to you so he didn't know who it was until he turned around and you saw his face fall.

'Nice to see you too asshole' You thought to yourself, walking over to stand near him but still keeping your distance. "What did you need?" You asked, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You kept your eyes ahead trying not to look at Damian and you had the feeling he was doing the same.

The entire mood of the dimly lit hallway had shifted from the moment you locked eyes with him and the tension was noticeable. Tim looked between the two of you before clearing his throat and bringing the attention back to him. "I actually don't need anything."

"So then why did you call telling me to come down here?" Damian asked, clearly annoyed that Tim was wasting his time.

Tim smirked in response and opened the door before Jason, who was behind you apparently, pushed you both into the room before either of you could react. You landed on top of Damian with a grunt. Once you realized you were on top of him you felt your cheeks turn red and you stood up quickly. You could have sworn you saw the slightest bit of a blush on him but you were too preoccupied with the now locked door to think about too much.

"Ok love birds here's the deal, you're petty hormone fueled fighting is driving us crazy and now we're doing something about it." Jason told you from the other side of the small glass window. "We said you were gonna lock you in a room until you figured out how to get along and now we're following through." he smirked.

"I swear to god if you lock me in this room with him,"  you motioned towards Damian, "I will drop kick you into the sun."

"If you let us out now maybe I won't kill you," Damian threatened alongside you.

"Maybe if you’d learned to talk to each other like normal people you wouldn’t be here in the first place," Tim said. "We'll be back after patrol so you've got about," he looked at his watchless wrist "4ish hours. Have fun." And with that they both walked away.

"DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWA- and they're gone. Dammit." You cursed and hit the steel door which hurt a lot more than you thought it would. "Shit," You shook your hand.

"Well that was just stupid," Damian scoffed at you, taking your hand to examine it. He always did that sort of thing on patrol so you didn't pull away or even really register what he was doing.

"Oh i'm sorry, is my frustration not smart enough for you?" you sneered back. "What even is this place anyway," You looked around the small dark room, determined to not look him in the eyes.

"A containment cell for metas, we haven't used it for a while so the power blockers are probably turned off." he told you before releasing your hand. "You definitely bruised it but you'll be fine."

You reluctantly thanked him and turned back to the door to see if you could get it open somehow. "Ok so how do we get out?"

"We don't."

You flipped around, surprised to hear him give up without even trying. "You're kidding right? There's gotta be some way out of here. We're superheros, a few walls can't hold us,” you exclaimed. “Can't you use those ninja skills you're so proud of and like... kick it down, or something?" You watched him walk to the back of the small cell and sit down on the floor.

"No," he replied simply. "This room was built to hold the most dangerous people in Gotham and I don't know if you've noticed but we don't have any of our gear." He glared at you and you rolled your eyes.

"So we're just supposed to wait here until they get back? We can't just sit here all night," You tried to convince him to do... anything really.

"Well if you're so keen on getting out then let's hear your genius plan," He leaned forward with all the smugness of billionaires son, daring you to say something.  "That's what I thought. Now will you please be quiet, I can't even hear myself losing my will to live."

"Fine whatever we'll just stay here in complete silence," You muttered sarcastically under your breath. Damian remained quiet as you started pacing back and forth but you could tell he was watching you.

After pacing for about 30 minutes you realized how tired you were from training so hard the past couple of days and sat down in the corner. You spent so much time over the last week worrying about Damian that you hadn't let yourself relax long enough to get any real rest. The little sleep you did manage to get mostly turned to nightmares.

At first you didn't even realize you were asleep. It all looked real enough except for the fact that you'd somehow been transported to a rooftop. You scanned your surroundings but everything was just slightly out of focus so you couldn't tell exactly where you were. When you turned around you saw him. Damian was there, and behind him was a shadowy sort of silhouette.

The shadow raised a knife and you realized what was happening. You tried to warn him, you tried to scream or yell or move but it was no use. The knife plunged into Damians back and you were helpless to stop it. You felt the pain he felt, you felt the blade slice through you. Finally you could move again but it was too late. The shadow disappeared but you didn't care about it, all you wanted to do was get to Damian. You ran forward but it was like running through water, your body moved in slow motion and you watched the blood start to pool underneath him.

Suddenly you were falling. Damian was gone, the roof was gone, everything was gone, it was just you and a black abyss trying to swallow you up. You screamed again but no noise came out, it was like all the air was being sucked from your lungs. It was silent and dark and empty nothingness until you saw a faint light. Then you heard something, your name being repeated, someone calling you and then you were pulled out of the void.

You shot up and gasped for air and frantically looked around but your eyes hadn't adjusted to the light yet. You heard a familiar soothing voice pulled you farther out of your trance.

"Hey hey hey, it's ok i'm here." The voice was calm and concerned at the same time. "It's just me ok, you're safe," Rough hands gently turned your head and the first thing you saw clearly was a pair of worried green eyes. You're breathing slowed and you're heart nearly skipped a beat.

Wrapping your arms around his chest you pulled him closer. He hesitated for a moment before folding you into his embrace. It was soft and delicate and it seemed like he was scared of holding you too tightly. Neither of you said anything else, you just sat there on the floor of a meta containment cell in each other's arms.

Time stood still and you finally admitted the truth to yourself. The real reason you hated Damian was because you loved him.

A/n: might fuck around and make a part 3 with the classic “because i love you!” confession scene

[babybottlepop96]

Rumors (Eren Yeager/F!Reader) 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT! minors DNI! Mommy kink kinda, overstim. Sub!Eren, Dom!Reader.

This is the most graphic smut ever, but its still there.

You awoke to a loud bang at your door. You jumped upright grabbing your blanket as if it was the only way a potential robber wouldn’t harm you. Suddenly, you felt the weight of something right on top of you, you squeaked quietly and heard a muffled, slurred voice apologize. But the weight didn’t move, obviously the voice wasn’t speaking to you. As you were about to say something, a female voice moaned out, causing your cheeks to redden. You were shocked, who in their right mind wonders into someone’s room and starts fucking on their bed. Especially when the owner of said bed is trying to sleep in it. “Excuse me!? No fucking in my bed!” You shouted above the mess on top of you. Some weight was lifted off you and the light switch turned on, illuminating your pale green bedroom. “Armin?!” You squeaked as the small blonde boy’s face reddened and his ocean blue eyes widened in horror.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry (y/n)!” He quickly apologized, but as it was, you were in no mood for apologies. You pointed to your door and he hung his head and quickly left the room, the girl he was with right on his tail. With the door still open, you hear the boom of the loudspeakers and the voices of many people in the lower level of your parents home.

“Jean.” You mumbled as you stood up, the silky fabric of your nightgown reaching just above your knees and one strap falling off your shoulder, you marched down the steps in search of your obnoxious twin brother. “Where the fuck is that bastard?” You asked yourself, looking around the sea of all the other college kids home for summer vacation. Suddenly you see a friendly freckled face and march up to him. “Marco, it would be in your best interest if you told me where your boyfriend is.” You glared and he visibly gulped when he saw you. He pointed to the area where a group of people gathered around cheering and making drunken bets. “Thanks.” You pushed your way through the group and stopped when you reached the beer pong table. “Jean!” You shouted above the cheering causing the game to pause and everyone to look at you.

“Hey! What are you doing here? I thought you had to work tonight?” Jean asked, setting his ball on the table.

“I told you this morning that my manager was sick and gave everyone the night off.” You huffed, crossing your arms across your chest, inadvertently making your breasts look fuller.

“Cool! Join the party then!” He smiled and you frowned as he began to toss the ball, you grabbed his arm as the ball was about to leave his hand, causing him to miss. “Hey! It's rude to interrupt someone during a game!”

“It's also rude to be awakened by your drunk friends trying to get laid in my bed while I’m trying to sleep in it!” You snapped back, clearly frustrated by the lack of sleep you had. All that earned you was a laugh coming from Jean and his competitor.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n). I bet you're into watching people get off. I bet that's your secret kink.” You slowly turned your head to the boy across the table. Eren Yeager, the school's bad boy, the man bun, cigarette smoking, tattoo covered bad boy that all the girls seemed to swoon over.

“That is entirely none of your business, Yeager. But to satisfy you, no. I do not find watching Armin fuck another girl to very satisfying.” You glared daggers at him, turning your head to the side quickly, facing your brother once again. “Keep your friends off the second floor. I would threaten to cut your dick off, but we all know Marco’s the one who does the dicking in the relationship.” The earned laughs from everyone except Jean. You walked away and headed back to your bedroom. You closed the door behind you and turned off the lights. The music from below muffled, but you were already too far gone to go back to sleep. You couldn’t help but to remember the way Eren’s beautiful green eyes darkened when you saw him looking at you. The way his bit his lip slightly, the way his arm muscles tensed when he listened to you talking. Your door slowly pushed open, slowly illuminating your room. “If your here to fuck, this room is off limits.”

“Then how about we take this to your parents room?” A deep voice answered back.

“Eren?” You asked sitting up, “What the fuck?!” He closed the door behind him and came to hover over you. “You know if Jean catch us, we will both find ourselves in a well in the middle of nowhere, right?” You asked as he started to kiss your throat.

“Jean is too drunk to notice anything, babe.” You giggled as his breath tickled your skin. You then flipped yourselves around, straddling his waist. You slowly licked from his exposed collarbone to the shell of his ear, earning a shaky moan in response.

“Now, Eren. You know you have to ask for what you want.” You teased by slowly grinding your hips against his hardening cock.

“Please, Miss.” He whispered out.

“Please what, Eren?” You asked, grinding once again.

“Please, touch me.” You loved how much control you had over this God like man under you. Having to keep your relationship secret in fear your brother would do something horrible, you heard a lot of talk about how other girls think Eren would be in bed. Most would say that they thought he was a beast, rough thrusts and a grip that would leave bruises. Bite marks and hickeys everywhere. That he would be the biggest dom in the world. And how you wished you could tell them the truth. In reality, Eren was very much a sub. He loved when a woman had enough courage to dominate him. Leave him a mess in their wake. He loved when a woman took control, god it got him hard. Not to mention that his orgasms were more powerful when they got him to cry. Overstimulation and orgasm denial were a couple of his favorites. He also loved when a woman would sit on his face. Controlling him on how he should use his tongue to please them. He loved it.

“If that's what you want baby, then momma will deliver.” You slowly slid off his sweatpants, his dick popping up. “No boxers baby boy? Hmm.. seems like someone really wanted momma’s attention didn’t they?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he nodded quickly. You licked his dick, base to tip, tip to bottom.

“P-please!” He hiccuped, not being able to take your teasing any longer, he had to put up with it all week, everyday, multiple times a day, you had given him blue balls. Telling him that if he touched himself once, he wouldn’t get sex for a month. And he wanted to be your good boy. Oh how he wanted to be your good boy. “I-ive b-been such a g-good boy! P-please!” He begged, tears starting to cascade down his sun kissed skin. You stopped and smiled at him, wiping some tears from his cheeks.

“You’re right. You have been my good boy this past week, haven’t you?” You straddled his hips once again, hiking your nightgown up, revealing the hidden fact that you were not wearing anything underneath. You align yourself with him, his breathing picking up before you begin to sink down. “But you do not cum until I say so, I know you can hold it, right?” He nodded again, just wanting to feel you. You fully seat yourself onto him, both of you letting out a loud groan. You immediately began to bounce, you wanted and needed this just as much as Eren had. He always filled you perfectly, always hitting your special spot no matter what position you were in. His hands gripped your hips tightly, moaning and groaning with every bounce. He watched as your breasts bounced in front of his face.

“F-fuck!” He moaned, trying so hard to keep himself from finishing, he knew he didn’t obey, his punishment would be much worse. You suddenly clenched around him, your orgasm coursing through you, like a damn breaking.

“Cum for me Eren!” That was it, one last bounce from you and he decorated your inner walls with pretty white streamers. He cried out your name, tears still falling from his beautiful green eyes. You collapsed on top of him once you rode out your highs together. “Fuck babe, that was hot.”

“Shh… Naptime.” He mumbled. You giggled as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You smiled as you heard your best friend and wonderful boyfriend fall asleep. Oh how you wish you could put those rumors to rest, but for now, you were happy. You closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

[the-rad-pineapple]

i want u

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Supernatural oneshot: After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things go back to normal between Dean and Cas. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions are confirmed when Cas comes back and doesn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things go back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

Words: 2.7k

I’ve been writing angsty stuff for my current WIP, but then I had an angsty day and needed something sweet. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading!

Inspired by Violent by Cummrs

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ao3

fanfiction

wattpad

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today is one of the best days ever. Sam married Eileen. Dean cried. Multiple times. He ate too much at the reception and got a little tipsy. His best man speech rocked, though. Sam and Eileen left ages ago. They’re having their honeymoon in California. Dean can’t be happier. Everyone left a couple hours after them. The last people to leave were Jody, Claire, Kaia, and Jack.

Now Dean and Cas are sitting against the empty wall of the dirty dance floor. Music is still playing, and it echoes across the empty room, making the moment feel ethereal. Miscellaneous wedding decorations and napkins litter the floor. A lone broken high heel lays near the edge of the dance floor. Dean takes a swig of a champaign bottle and passes it to Cas. Cas doesn’t have his shoes on for some reason. He said it was easier to dance without them or something. He takes a drink from the champaign bottle. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned a few buttons on the top. His suit jacket disappeared hours ago. His hair is messy. He looks so good as a human. Cas hands the bottle back to Dean.

Dean takes it and stares at the empty floor in front of them. “This is the best day ever,” Dean decides. He takes a drink and hands the bottle back to Cas.

Cas hums. “It is one of the best I’ve ever had,” he agrees and takes a long drink.

“Mmhmm.” Dean leans his head against the wall and stares at Cas. The singular white light in the center of the ceiling casts long shadows on Cas’ face, making his face full of dark, sharp angles. It reminds Dean of the Cas he met in a barn over a decade ago. Dean lets the nostalgia wash over him as he stares at his best friend. Cas takes another drink from the champaign bottle and swallows. It’s really distracting, especially when Cas has his shirt unbuttoned like that.

After they found a way to get Cas back from the Empty, things went back to normal between them. Dean thinks he made up the whole love confession thing. It was exactly what he wants to hear. Plus, he’s re-written his own memories before like when he lost Cas in Purgatory all those years ago. It totally makes sense he’d make up a love confession to cope with Cas leaving him again. Dean’s suspicions were confirmed when Cas came back and didn’t say anything about it to Dean. And things went back to normal as if it never happened. Because it didn’t.

And Dean doesn’t really care. It hurt at first, but that was eclipsed by the ecstasy of having Cas back. He’ll take Cas in any way he can get. Angel. Human. Friend. Lover. Anything. Just as long as Cas is here and safe.

Cas hands the bottle back to Dean. Dean finishes it and sets the empty bottle down beside him. They don’t really have a reason to stay here anymore. It’s also getting late. And Dean is tired. They should go back to their hotel. Jody booked everyone a room at the hotel nearby as a wedding gift.

“I don’t want to move,” Cas says.

Dean chuckles. “Me neither.”

A comfortable silence lapses between them. The music is still playing. Dean closes his eyes.

“Dean.”

“Mmm,” Dean answers.

“I don’t want to move, but I also don’t want to sleep here.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, yeah.” He opens his eyes and looks at Cas again. Cas is staring at him. Dean smiles. “What?”

Cas’ smile turns sad. “Nothing.” He looks away. “I suppose we should stand up now.”

“I suppose.”

Cas sighs and tugs his shoes forward. He slowly puts them on and ties them. Dean watches. Cas’ hands work carefully and precisely. Cas’ hands look soft. He finally stands up and looks down at Dean. He offers Dean a hand. Dean grabs it and stands up. Cas releases Dean’s hand, and Dean wishes he didn’t. Dean doesn’t want this moment to end. He likes being near Cas, and he knows once they get to the hotel, they’ll separate. It’s clingy as shit, but it’s how Dean feels. And he can’t do anything about that, can he?

He used to shove down those thoughts and feelings like they were something toxic. But, over time, he stopped doing that. He’s not exactly sure why. Maybe he’s just getting more comfortable with himself. Maybe he just doesn’t care enough to push them away. Maybe he’s just getting old. Maybe it’s all of those things. Dean doesn’t really know. And he doesn’t really care.

Cas smiles sadly at him again and turns away. Cas does that a lot now. Smile sad. He’s done it ever since he got back from the Empty. Dean thinks Cas misses being an angel.

Dean follows Cas down the short hallway and out into the parking lot. The Impala is the only car left. The summer air is warm and humid. The stars twinkle above them. Dean reaches into his pocket and grabs his keys, already missing today. It was so blissful and happy. Dean’s still adjusting to not feeling completely shitty all the time, let alone happy. It’s nice but also kind of weird.

They both head over to the Impala, and Dean unlocks it. They get inside. Dean turns the radio on to a low volume. The streets are practically empty, and the drive back to the hotel is relaxing. He also enjoys Cas’ presence, even if they’re both too tired to say anything. Just being around Cas makes Dean content.

They pull into the hotel parking lot and get back outside. The night air is peaceful, and Dean stands for a moment to feel it. He’s happy. Really happy. And so is Sam. They somehow did it. Part of Dean is convinced this must be a dream or something.

“Dean?”

Dean turns to look. Cas is standing in front of him, the lights from the hotel outline him. He’s so pretty. “Sorry,” Dean says. “Just don’t want this day to end, you know?”

Cas smiles. This time it isn’t sad. “Me neither.”

An idea pops into Dean’s head. “Wanna watch a movie in my room? We got the fancy tv’s here.”

Cas’ smile grows. “I would like that.”

Dean smiles back. “Awesome.”

----

Dean picks the first action movie he sees. He and Cas are sitting on his bed. Their shoulders are touching. It would take barely any effort for Dean to rest his head on Cas’ shoulder. He doesn’t.

Not even halfway through the movie, Cas starts to fall asleep. It’s selfish, but Dean doesn’t wake him up. He’ll take as many moments as he can with Cas. Besides, Dean will wake him up once the movie is over. But Dean doesn’t count on drifting off himself.

“Dean.”

Dean jerks awake, immediately on alert. He doesn’t have a gun on him, and he goes rigid.

“Dean,” Cas says again, gently.

Dean blinks and blows out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Oh, that’s right. They’re fine. They’re in a hotel. Sam got fucking married today.

Cas continues, “I think we missed the movie.”

Dean chuckles and looks over to him. “Yeah, I think so.”

Cas looks sleepy. His eyes are half open and his hair somehow got messier. His clothes are wrinkled, and he has a dazed smile on his face. He’s gorgeous.

Dean smiles. “You can stay here if you want, sleepyhead.”

Cas lifts his head up from where it was resting against the wall. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. You never are.”

Cas smiles at him again. But it’s one of the sad ones. “Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” They stare at each other. The longer it gets, the more awkward it is, but Dean can’t look away. To break the silence, he says, “I can take the couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

They stare at each other again, but Dean is too tired to care. He closes his eyes.

A few moments pass before Cas says, “We can share the bed if you’re comfortable with that.”

Dean cracks his eyes open. “Yeah, okay.” He ignores how his heart jumps in excitement. They’re not even going to do anything, and he’s elated. Dean kicks off his shoes and automatically starts unbuckling his pants and freezes. “Is it okay if I don’t have pants on?” He glances at Cas.

Cas is already halfway under the covers. His eyes flick over Dean’s body. It’s so fast that Dean thinks he makes it up. “Yes, that’s fine,” Cas answers.

The mental image of Cas checking him out—real or not—makes Dean blush, and he quickly looks away and finishes taking his pants off. He shuts down every dirty thought he gets in the process; it’s easier than it usually is since he’s so damn tired.

Dean turns to Cas, and Cas is definitely staring at his bare legs this time. “Can I turn the light off?” Dean asks.

Cas’ eyes snap up to meet Dean’s. “Um, yes.” His cheeks turn pink.

Dean stares for a second and then realizes he’s probably making things worse by staring and quickly looks away at the lamp on his bedside table. He hits the switch and slides underneath the covers. He can feel Cas’ body heat next to him and forgets how to breathe. The temptation of having the one thing he wants most in the universe right next to him is too much. He’s tense and as close to the edge of the bed as he can be without falling off. Dean is wide awake now. He doubts he’ll get a wink of sleep.

Cas shifts beside him, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. Thankfully, Cas doesn’t seem to notice. Cas’ breathing evens out. Dean closes his eyes and focuses on the sound. He wants this so fucking bad it hurts. He squeezes his eyes shut harder when he feels the pin-prickle of tears forming. He won’t cry. Not on a good day like today. He spent way too many nights drinking and crying himself to sleep when he thought Cas was dead forever. He won’t do that when he has Cas literally right next to him. Dean swallows down the lump forming in his throat. As sleep tugs at his mind and consciousness begins to fade, he can’t help but think, I love you. I love you so fucking much. I think it’s killing me.

----

Dean wakes up, and he can’t remember where he is. He knows it isn’t the bunker. He feels a body next to him. He’s not even fully awake, and he can’t bring himself to remember who he’s in bed with. Damn. It’s been a while since he’s had a one-night stand. Loneliness stabs him in the chest, and he shifts towards the warmth of the person beside him. He reaches on arm out, and touches their back. He snakes a hand around their waist and pulls himself against them. Dean feels them begin to stir.

“Shh, go to sleep,” he murmurs.

That seems satisfactory, and they relax. They interlace their fingers with the hand Dean has draped over their waist. Dean pulls them closer. He’s so fucking needy and lonely. He wishes he was holding Cas. He pretends he is.

----

Dean’s pillow feels weird. It’s lumpy but soft. It’s very warm. It also smells like Cas. Which is also weird. Why does his pillow smell like Cas? Cas is dead. But, no. No. Cas is alive. He has been for months now. Dean just forgets when he wakes up sometimes.

Dean keeps his eyes closed as he rests. Any second he’s not fully awake is a good one. Dean then realizes his pillow has a heartbeat. Dean’s pillow might not be a pillow. He’s lying on someone. Someone who smells like Cas.

Dean’s heartrate spikes, and he jerks his head up.

Cas blinks up at him. “Are you alright?” Cas asks, his voice deep with sleep. Well, deeper than usual.

“Yes,” Dean says. “I just forgot you’re alive.”

Cas blinks again. “Oh.” He reaches up with one hand and cups Dean’s face. “Well, I’m alive.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Cas smiles back. It’s the brightest smile Dean’s seen on him since he’s been back. But then it turns sad. Like it always does. Cas starts to pull his hand away, but Dean quickly grabs it. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing; he’s still not even fully awake. Dean closes his eyes and leans further into Cas’ touch, keeping his hand on Cas’. He doesn’t want Cas to move away.

Cas’ breath hitches. “Dean,” he begins.

And Dean can tell by Cas’ tone that he is going to tell Dean to let go or something. Dean doesn’t want that. “Shh,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Cas says more firmly and tugs on his hand. Dean doesn’t let go. “Don’t do this.”

Dean opens his eyes. Cas’ smile is gone, and all the sadness has moved to his eyes. “Do what?” Dean asks.

“I know you’re doing this just because of what I told you before the Empty took me.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t feel obligated to…to sleep in the same bed as me or hold my hand like this just because I love you.”

“What?”

The hurt in Cas’ eyes throws Dean off so much that Cas manages to snatch his hand back.

Dean stares. Then swallows. “I thought I made that up,” Dean whispers.

“Made what up?”

“That you—that you…” Dean swallows again. Why is his mouth so dry? “That you lo—” His voice cracks. He furiously blinks back tears. “You said that, right?”

“You don’t remember?”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I do, I just…I thought I made that up. Because I—I want…” He licks his lips. “I want you.”

Cas stares at him with wide eyes.

Dean’s blood runs cold. “Wait, am I completely misinterpreting this, oh my god, Cas, I’m so sor—”

“You want me?” Cas is still staring. His eyes still wide with disbelief.

Dean’s already gone this far. There’s no turning back now. Might as well tell Cas everything. “You’re all I ever wanted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Absolutely not!” Dean is just as surprised at his outburst as Cas is. He takes a deep breath before continuing, much calmer this time, “Cas, I have a hard time saying, ‘I love you’ to Sam. Why would I ever say that to you unless I completely mean it?”

“You didn’t say, ‘I love you,’” Cas tells him. “You said, ‘I want you.’ There’s a difference.”

That stubborn motherfucker. But Dean can be stubborn right back. This will show him! “Well, I love you. So there,” Dean states, staring at Cas to challenge him on that.

“Oh…” Cas’ gaze becomes distant.

“Yeah, not so fun being on the receiving end of a love confession, is it?”

Cas is unresponsive.

Uh, oh. Dean cups his face with one of his hands. “Cas, buddy, look at me.”

Cas’ eyes finally focus on Dean. “Y-yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Yes,” Cas repeats.

Dean leans in and gently presses his lips against Cas’. There’s a moment where neither of them move, as if what they’re doing isn’t real, but then Cas’ mouth opens up under Dean’s, and Dean moves in closer. He still has one hand on Cas’ face and moves it back to tangle in his hair. Dean allows himself to get lost in the kiss. It’s slow and gentle and even better than anything he dreamed a kiss could ever be. It’s all Cas, Cas, and more Cas, and Dean’s heart is soaring. He pulls back just far enough to whisper, “I love you so much.” before kissing Cas again, a little more desperately this time.

Dean isn’t quite sure how long they do this; kiss each other stupid with their bodies pressed into each other, but he treasures every second of it.

This day is somehow even better than yesterday. And, who knows? Tomorrow might even be better than today. But one thing Dean knows for sure is that they have all the time in the world, and he’s not going to waste a single minute.

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Family

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

Previous Excerpt

Next Excerpt

One question that I see asked in the news a lot is why there are still any ghouls left. We have a distinctive, high-impact feeding habit that requires us to stay within human society, where we are both outnumbered and outgunned. This has essentially been the case since the development of automatic firearms, and you’ve continued to develop more and more effective methods of killing us since then. How are we not extinct?

The talking heads always have lurid theories to propose. My personal favorite one, which comes up every couple of years or so, is that the government is secretly breeding us so that they have an excuse to send secret police out into the general populace for nefarious purposes pretending to be exterminators. As if they’d need the excuse {Editing Note: I’ve gotta keep my political views out of this except where they directly pertain to ghouls. No unnecessarily alienating people}. The most commonly accepted one seems to be that we just have a lot of children to compensate for our high mortality rate. Spatha calls that an R strategy, I think. Scarlet calls it the Rabbit Theory. Whatever you call it, it’s wrong. Our species has survived off the strength and compassion of our families.

Contrary to popular impressions, our “nuclear” families are pretty small. My understanding is that 1-4 children is the typical range. I’m the only confirmed only child in my friend group. Scarlet’s the youngest of three, Scorpio’s a middle child, Spatha avoids talking about her home life, and Kestrel doesn’t know her biological parents. There’s a couple of pressures that keep our family sizes small. First, it’s challenging to feed too many ghouls at once, especially ghoul children, who we don’t want worrying about where they’re going to get their meals. Second, the majority of ghoul parents are going to end up as single parents before their kids are fully grown. Either one of them is going to get killed, or they’re going to have to separate to go on the run from the exterminators; and, of course, we do still break up and get divorced sometimes.

These pressures are exaggerated by our general lack of an extended family. It’s not that all of our aunts and uncles get hunted down - even if they did, we’d still have cousins - but it’s not safe for us to have traceable extended families. When exterminators identify a ghoul, the first thing they do is put out a bulletin for all known blood relatives. The most common tactic to avoid this is, when multiple siblings make it to adulthood, at least one of them changes their identity and moves away. This isn’t always done, but it’s done often enough that document forging is a widespread and well-respected profession in the Society. It’s useful for dodging exterminators in other circumstances too. My mom and I changed our names and moved cities after exterminators killed my dad when I was 4.

Between that and the sheer number of out-and-out orphans in our Society, it should come as no surprise that we’ve developed a new family structure to fill in the gaps. The terminology we use for this structure is variable, but the term I’ve always used is “household”. A household is a sort of adopted extended family, typically formed by and centered around one particularly resourceful ghoul called a patron. The patron takes whichever ghouls they choose under their wing, introduces them to each other, and helps them coordinate their talents and resources so that they all have everything they need. Most obviously, this means making sure they all have a supply of flesh, but there are numerous other kinds of support a household can provide. I doubt I need to emphasize again how valuable a reliable source of companionship and safety is, but patrons typically have access to connections and contacts that can help the other members of the household accomplish their goals.

My household, for example, was founded by our patron Yaga. It consists of her, her adopted daughter Kestrel, my mom and I, my friends Scarlet and Scorpio and their immediate families, and four other older ghouls. There’s also Spatha, who has been reluctant to fully join the household but acts like a member in most contexts. Three of our members have reliable flesh sources, and Yaga coordinates with other ghouls to find supplementary sources to ensure that she always has a surplus on hand. This keeps all of us well-fed and lets her distribute the rest to those in need in exchange for favors and cachet that the rest of us can use for our own advancement. In turn, the rest of us pitch in for odd jobs here and there, mostly on flesh-gathering jobs of one kind or another, and we look out for each other. I’ve done a bit of babysitting with Kestrel, for example, and Yaga was able to get me and Scarlet summer jobs to save up for college.

Babysitting, by the way, is one of the most valuable services a household can provide to a ghoul parent. Given our mortality rate, it probably isn’t a surprise that there’s a good bit of cultural pressure to have children, and have them quick. Ghoul children are… a lot. When we’re newborn, we’re pretty much like human babies. Ghoul babies can nurse from ghoul mothers for awhile, which is a relief. They need to switch to flesh before their teeth come in, though, so that means flesh slurry, which is more complicated to make than you might think. For best results, you want a mix of blood, muscle tissue, organ tissue, and bone, especially marrow. We get better at pulling all our nutrients from just flesh as we mature, but babies aren’t as developed. Getting those varied tissues is a little more complicated than just getting flesh. Bone especially is challenging - more mature ghouls have no need for it, and it’s honestly kinda gross. You just have to hope that whoever you’re getting flesh from can start holding some bones for you. Not every source has easy access to bones. 

{Editing Note: I think I wrote bone too many times - it looks fake now. Bone. Bone.}

We get our ghoul teeth at the same time as our baby teeth. Our ghoul teeth fall out and are replaced too, but we keep growing new ones our whole lives, kinda like sharks. Funnily enough, I don’t think we grow extra human teeth, which seems like a strange way for evolution to take us, but what do I know, I’m not a biologist. At that point we can start eating regular flesh, and parents have the unenviable task of explaining to toddlers that they can’t just slide their teeth out whenever they want. Our other features come in a bit later - claws between 4 and 6, eyes with puberty. Let me tell you, the claws hurt coming in. I couldn’t hold a pencil for a month. My mom told the elementary school that I was deathly sick so she could keep me home, but I think Scarlet just pretended he’d broken both his hands and went in splints. I don’t envy him - stretching my claws did a lot to relieve the pain.

I’ll admit freely that, by our standards, I had a pretty charmed childhood. I fit into human society pretty easily, I had a mom who loved me and could provide for me, a patron and household to help pick up the slack, and ghoul friends my own age. I had the discipline to keep my true nature hidden from my human peers, and I don’t think I was even particularly traumatized by the pressure of performing humanity that much. I can safely attribute that to the fact that I had safe spaces throughout my life to let the charade drop. Most ghouls at least have that. Most, but not all.

Our integration into human society also means that we inevitably become entangled in human society. We become invested in the lives of our human peers, we befriend them, care about them. Sometimes we fall in love with them. Eating people seems like kind of a big secret to keep from a potential romantic partner - I certainly couldn’t manage it - but some ghouls form romantic relationships with humans nonetheless. Maybe some of these human partners eventually discover the truth and are willing to overlook it for the person they love, but I doubt it happens often. I’ve certainly never heard of it. I’ve heard of it going the other way, though, a human partner discovering the truth and reacting poorly. Someone always dies when that happens. I personally know a few ghouls who’ve dated humans, or are seriously involved with them. Frankly, it scares the hell out of me. I get that the heart wants what it wants, but some wants aren’t worth the risk.

{Editing Note: That last line feels… tense. Emotionally charged. Why? And should I change it?}

In my opinion, the gravest of these risks is what happens when a human and a ghoul decide they want to build a life together, but kids are already in the equation. The human-ghoul mixed family is probably the most toxic environment that a ghoul child could be raised in and conceivably survive. All that pressure of hiding your true nature from your peers as you grow up? That feeling of isolation that follows you everywhere you go among humans? All of the most crushing emotional turmoil I’ve described in this book so far? Imagine if there was no relief for that even at home with your family. I frankly have no idea how ghoul parents manage to feed themselves and their children without being caught, or how they manage to perform humanity so flawlessly and constantly that their literal immediate family never catches on. I don’t know how those children manage to survive to adulthood, but I imagine they have some seriously fucked up mental health problems by the time they do. Factor in the suspicion that they would inevitably face from our Society when they finally are able to join it properly - after all, who more likely to become a Judas or be Lost than a ghoul raised by humans? - and I’d be willing to bet most of them don’t make it out of their twenties.

Before we move on entirely from families in general and mixed families in particular, I’d like to take a quick aside to talk about “half-ghouls”. You hear about them in horror media fairly often, the biological child of a human and a ghoul. Authors love to ascribe all sorts of traits to these hypothetical creatures - greater and more monstrous than the sum of their parts, supernaturally strong and vicious, impossible to detect within human society, sometimes with traits that are blatantly impossible, like telepathy or mind control or just plain magic. All of that is obviously untrue, but it’s something of a point of contention as to whether or not a “half-ghoul” is even possible. None of the ghouls I’ve talked to seem to agree about whether it can happen, and a search of human medical literature was similarly inconclusive. Humans, at least, seem to think that it might be theoretically possible, but have never been able to verify it by observation or by medical experiment. Of the ghouls I know that have been romantically involved with humans, none of them have ever gotten a kid out of it. It’s one of those things where we just don’t know. If it were possible, I’m not even sure what the implications would be.

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (4/?)

pairings: steve rogers x fem!reader (platonic), bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: characters death, swearing, flirting with colonel phillips, guns, plane crash

word count: 4,327

a/n: holy crap this one is long! i really enjoyed writing this chapter just because i got to watch CA:TFA all over again and i cried like a little baby. hope you guys enjoy this! btw, next chapter is going to be very short - probably the shortest one yet, just a heads up!

���Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse,” Colonel Phillips started, “he thinks he’s a god and he’s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the U.S.A.”

You tensed up next to Steve as Howard moved behind you, taking a seat to your right, “Schmidt’s working with powers beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour.”

Peggy’s eyes met yours before they drifted to Steve who tossed a pile of papers on the table in front of him. One of the Howling Commandos spoke up, “how much time we got?”

Colonel Phillips sorted through some files, “according to my new best friend, under 24 hours.”

You spoke up, “where is he now?”

The Colonel presented the group with a photo, “Hydra’s last base is here. In the Alps, 500 feet below the surface.”

Another Howling Commando spoke up, “so what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can just knock on the front door.”

“Why not?” And just like that, Steve captured everyone’s attention in the room, including yours. You knew this was going to be a suicide mission, especially if he continued with this idea, “that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

Everyone looked at Steve with wide eyes, except for you and Peggy. Schmidt was in for a rude awakening.

-

Grabbing a motorcycle alongside Steve, the two of you headed into the snowy forest towards the base. Glancing over at Steve, you noticed he kept the design on the shield, joy sparking in your chest, “you kept it!”

Steve barely heard you over the sound of the motorcycles but he smiled, “not too shabby for your first Captain America design.”

You chuckled, about to respond until you glanced back, seeing six motorcycles behind you, “we got company, Cap!”

Quickly swerving back and forth to avoid whatever-the-hell they were shooting at you, Cap glanced back once more before he pushed a button on the pad attached to his motorcycle, two hooks with strings attached latching onto two trees. Right away, two guys on motorcycles failed to avoid the trap, sending them flying forward.

Cap yelled over to you, “get next to me!”

Speeding up a bit on your bike, you ended up next to Steve as he pressed another button, fire immediately covering two of the cyclists. You gave Steve a look, “that was so badass!”

On your left, you saw two Hydra motorcycles race ahead of you before you looked to Steve, “I got an idea! Move quickly!” Racing ahead, you quickly picked a pin from their motorcycles, making sure Steve was nowhere near them. Looking back, you sent a smirk his way as he sped up next to you, hearing and feeling the explosion of the motorcycles.

Riding towards the base, a tank was placed right before the entrance. Steve yelled, “stay right behind me,” just as the tank started shooting at you. Racing behind Cap, you both saw the tank explode as Steve shot at it from his motorcycle, riding up the cement barrier of the base.

Jumping over the barriers with your bikes, both you and Steve were met with Hydra soldiers with guns pointed right at you. Continuing your ride, you saw Steve jump off his, watching it explode the first wall of the base. Riding through the base, you quickly took down any soldier in your way, shooting them with your new best friend – StG 44.

Running a few fellas over with your bike, you looked over at Steve who was taking multiple soldiers down with the shield. Turning your attention back towards the fight, you continued to take down more men – but you noticed their numbers were growing bigger by the second.

In a spare glance, you turned to Steve who was now surrounded by two men holding flamethrowers, making it unable for him to move. You came to a stop, noticing a line of men pointing their guns at you. With a sigh, you hopped off your bike – but not before shooting one more guy by your feet.

You saw Cap look around for you worriedly until he met your eyes; you nodded at him, telling him to not put up a fight, at least not yet. He nodded back, allowing the Hydra soldiers to take both your weapons and leading you down the halls of the base and into a room that had it not hold one of the world’s most dangerous men, you’d say it had a beautiful view.

You and Steve stopped side-by-side with the Hydra soldiers as Johann Schmidt started talking, “arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait, but I must say, you do it better than anybody.”

This was not what you expected Johann Schmidt to look like.

He glanced at you, “seems you have no limits, Captain, bringing a woman into this.”

You glared at the red-faced monster, “I came here on my own accord, just to clarify, Schmidt.”

Johann hummed as he turned away from you, “however, even you have limits as to what you can do, Captain. Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?”

Steve spoke up beside you, “he told me you were insane.”

Schmidt seemed unsurprised, looking down to the floor and back to Steve, “ah…he resented my genius and tried to deny what was rightfully mine. But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?”

Steve chuckled, “nothin’. I’m just a kid from Brooklyn.”

Schmidt turned to you, “how about you, little one? What makes you so special?”

You swallowed thickly, “good looks?”

You nor Steve really aren’t sure what exactly set Johann off, but a switch had flipped, and his face grew into a frown before he slapped you across the face twice, doing the same to Cap while also kneeing him in the stomach. Both you and Steve were put on your knees as all three of you breathed heavily.

With a slight grin, Steve looked up at Johann, “I can do this all day.”

Johann was not amused, “oh, of course you can, of course.” He paused before he continued, pulling a gun out from the side of his uniform, “but unfortunately, I am on a tight schedule.” He pointed the gun to Steve’s head just as the Howling Commandos began to zip line towards the base.

You growled towards Schmidt, “so are we.”

Once Schmidt realized what was happening, you and Steve quickly grabbed the guards behind you, pulling them in front as Johann fired his gun at them, their bodies disappearing in thin air. You gave Steve a look as the Howling Commandos flew in through the windows, firing at the enemy as Schmidt took off.

Quickly getting up off your feet, you scurried towards the hall where Schmidt took off, a Howling Commando yelling behind you, “Rogers! You might need this!”

Hearing the shield pass through the air, you knew Steve caught it as he yelled back, “thanks,” then hearing his footsteps take after yours.

Hydra troops marched down the halls of the base, guns ready to fire at any moment. With your heightened sense of hearing, you knew the rest of the platoon was taking over the Hydra base, gunfire slowly taking over your senses. Explosions filled the base as smoke and fire entered your senses; Steve ran beside you, sensing the same things.

You saw Schmidt turn down a corridor, yelling over to Steve, “this way!” Quickly, Schmidt retaliated, sending bolts of his gun your way, making you narrowly avoid being disintegrated. Steve ran beside you, shield blocking the gunfire as you chased after the madman.

With a lucky throw, Steve threw the shield, catching it between metal doors where Schmidt narrowly escaped. Cap let out a sigh, rushing towards the shield as you quirked an eyebrow, “lucky throw?”

Before he could answer, a Hydra Agent came around the corner with two flamethrowers, making Steve push you against the wall as he ran opposite of you; you both were trapped as fire encapsulated your vision. Glancing towards the fire welder, you tried coming up with a plan before, lo and behold, Peggy Carter shot at the man, his flaming body falling to the ground.

Both you and Steve looked around the corner, spotting Peggy as soldiers ran by; Steve smirked at Peg, “you’re late.”

Your eyes shifted towards the ceiling as you tried to avoid the awkward moment; Peggy spoke up, “weren’t you about to –“ Steve nodded, “right, yeah – y/n.” With that, you and Steve took off towards the door where the shield held its place. Grabbing your hand, Steve pulled the shield and quickly took off.

You spotted men from the 107th shooting at the giant airship, Hydra agents lying about the floor. Turning to Steve, who was a few steps behind you, you nodded your head, “we got a problem.” The ship’s engines had already started, and it seemed Schmidt was, understandably, in a rush to complete his plan. The ship turned, wheels screeching against the floor as you and Cap slowed down, watching it slowly make its way to the exit.

Steve glanced around, watching as Hydra forces and your own fought one another. With a nod towards you, both you and Steve took off, running headfirst into battle, making sure to avoid trouble along the way; that, and, well, Steve also wanted to get some hits in.

You noticed where Cap was headed as you two ran in battle, “how do you plan on fitting us both on that?”

Steve glanced back at you, “think you can hold on, kid?”

You grumbled, “yeah! But I’m literally older than you by like, 4 months…”

Quickly, Steve jumped over huddled bodies until he reached a box of supplies lying right beneath a chain; with a jump, Steve latched onto the chain as you skipped a step, latching onto his waist mid-flight. Reaching a safe zone, you jumped first, meeting Steve in a mid-run as you headed towards the ship Johann Schmidt was currently about to fly.

You and Steve ran beside one another, pushing to reach Schmidt even as fire from the engines burnt your face. You yelled over to Steve, “c’mon, Steve! We’re – we’re almost there!” Your last sentence turned into a scream, your body yelling at you for pushing itself to the limits.

The fans from the ship sped up as you and Steve struggled to catch up with Schmidt, your hopes slowly fading as he seemed to get further and further away. Steve pulled you to a slow jog, about to crash until Peggy Carter and Colonel Phillips pulled up beside you in one of Schmidt’s cars.

Colonel Phillips yelled at you both, “get in!” Before you even settled down beside the Colonel and Steve beside Peggy, you took off, hair flying behind you. You turned to the Colonel with a smirk on your face, “nice ride, Phillips!”

The Colonel glanced a look at you as he sped up, “figured I might keep this once we’re done here!” You let out a laugh that soon died off as you recognized the light from the sun and a runway – right where Schmidt currently was.

You looked to the Colonel, a worried look on your face, as he pressed a button beside the steering wheel; right away, the car you were seated in blasted off, hair wildly being thrown behind you as the Colonel grasped onto the wheel. You held onto the door handle, eyes wide as you were reaching the ship, “remind me to never drive with you again, Colonel!”

With shaky legs, you began standing up as Steve did the same mid-ride, reaching the back end of the ship. You and Steve yelled to the Colonel, “keep it steady!”

Peggy shouted over the sounds of the ship and car engines, “wait!” Steve looked back to Peggy as she pulled him into a kiss.

You looked to the Colonel with a shrug; he shook his head at you, “I ain’t kissin’ you!” You gave a laugh as you blew him a kiss, leaning on the hood of the car to avoid getting chopped up by the propellers on the ship. Steve followed right behind you, shield meeting the propellers only once, sparks flying.

You glanced at Steve quickly before you jumped towards the ship’s wheel, grabbing onto the metal support beam as Steve flew right below you, catching onto the lasting part of the wheel. Looking down, you tried steadying your breath as you realized how high up you were; grasping Steve’s hand, you pulled him up alongside you as the wheel you two stood on was slowly pulled into the ship.

With a shaky hand, you reached into your shirt and grabbed Bucky’s dog tags, holding them tight against your scolding skin, even though it was blistering cold in the Alps.

Once inside the lower level of the ship, you and Steve quietly made your way along the metal floors, looking below you as you saw a horrifying sight; bombs with names of major cities written on them, including Chicago and New York.

With a slight gasp, you turned to Steve who looked just as distraught as you were. As his eyes met the New York bomb, footsteps echoed above you, Hydra agents making their ways across the metal landings. With stealth, Steve jumped up, grabbing onto the railing, and kicking an agent over the ledge. Jumping just as high, you landed on the landing and met with the remaining three agents.

With a slight run, you met one agent halfway as he immediately threw a punch your way. You narrowly avoided it, ducking to the side and elbowing him in the face, hearing a nice crunch beneath your elbow. Steve made his way around you, kicking another agent in the chest as he flew backwards. Kicking your opponent over the ledge, you grabbed a knife holstered onto your thigh and threw it at the third and final agent running away, hiding him in the back of the neck; with a grunt, he fell against the side of the landing.

Somehow, Steve’s agent escaped during a quick moment of distraction, climbing on top of the Chicago bomb. Cap ran towards the control panel, pressing the red escape button before the poor guy could even make it inside the capsule, hearing him scream as he fell thousands of feet.

You took a quick breath, “I don’t feel guilty about that…is that bad?”

Steve shrugged, “I – I don’t think so…no, yeah, no, definitely not.”

Less than a second later, two Hydra agents ambushed you and Steve, punching you in the side as you let out a grunt. Avoiding another punch, you grabbed a knife from your thigh and stabbed your opponent in the chest, flipping him over just for good measure. Steve had already disposed of his guy as you kicked yours down towards the opening where Steve’s own guy had just gone down.

You wiped off the blood from your knife on your suit as Steve grimaced, “what, waste a perfectly good knife? Sorry I don’t have a shield, Stevie.”

Steve just shivered, “that’s just…gross, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes, “so overdramatic. C’mon, let’s go.”

Before you could continue on within the ship, however, Steve and you heard someone get into one of the bombs, closing the lid. Steve immediately jumped onto the window, another agent jumping on top of him. Without thinking, you threw your knife at the agent, hitting him in the shoulder as the bomb, along with Steve on it, dropped into the sky.

You screamed, “Steve! No – no!”

Grabbing at your hair, you held back tears as you watched Steve fly around, narrowly avoiding the tiny ship’s propellers. With careful steps, you saw the scene unfold as the agent you had stabbed was shoved into the propellers, blood flowing from the sky; you gagged, “jesus, Steve – that was disgusting.”

Stepping away from the platform, you trusted Steve and continued your way through the ship, trying to find Schmidt. Grabbing Cap’s shield from where it had been discarded before the bomb was dropped, you made your way to the cockpit where you realized it was quiet – too quiet.

At some point, you felt the ship shake and loud bangs filled the air as you hoped it was Steve – back in one piece. Slowly walking down the stairs, the shield protecting you, you quietly walked upon the metal grates of the ship until reaching the pilot’s seat; leaning to the side, you realized Schmidt was no longer there.

“What the –“ Before you could finish, you heard the sounds of a gun preparing to fire, and in a split second, you used the shield to protect yourself from Schmidt’s laser, the shot hitting the window of the ship.

Harsh winds forced itself into the ship, your hair blowing wildly as Schmidt stood before you, “you don’t give up, do you? Where’s Mr. Rogers, little one?”

Just then, Steve decided to make his grand entrance as you glared at Schmidt, “kids from Brooklyn aren’t exactly known for givin’ up, Johann.” With a flick of your arm, you threw the shield to Steve as Schmidt fired, forcing you to jump to the side. Steve caught the shield, blocking another hit from Schmidt’s laser as it hit the window again.

Cap ran towards Schmidt, blocking more hits as he fought with the red-skulled man, avoiding yet also receiving some hits. Once Cap was kicked to the ground, you jumped behind Schmidt, kicking his hind legs and kneeing his lower spine, hearing him grunt in pain in response. Steve stood up, pushing Schmidt against a wall before being slammed to the ground.

You ran towards Johann, arm going around his neck, choking him as he tried grabbing at anything for leverage. With a quick glance to the table lying in the middle of the room, glowing blue, you threw yourself on top of it, pulling Schmidt with you and onto the floor. Steve had then pulled Schmidt up, hitting him with his shield until Schmidt fought back, hitting Cap with his own weapon before Steve headbutted him.

Steve leaned back before he grabbed onto Schmidt’s uniform, throwing him towards the pilot seat, sparks immediately flying through the air. With a yell, you realized the ship was tipped downwards, heading straight towards, what looked like, an icy landscape. Flying to the ceiling alongside Schmidt and Steve, you flew towards Johann, punching him in the stomach as he did you, trying to gain some type of balance.

As the three of you fought in the air, you gave your best kicks and punches, watching Steve be thrown to the side of the ship. In the short time, Schmidt flew over and pulled up the steering stick of the ship, pressing a few buttons as you all three fell to the floor, the ship back to normal altitude.

Landing on the metal grates harshly, you groaned as Steve stood up, pulling you alongside him as he held his shield in front of you both. Schmidt turned towards you, gun in hand as he stumbled down the stairs, “you could have the power of the gods! Both of you!”

Schmidt shot towards you and Steve as you ducked, feeling the heat of the gunfire pass over your head, “yet you wear a flag on your chest, and think you fight a battle of nations!” He kept firing at you, Steve pulling you along as Schmidt continued, “I have seen the future, Captain, little one! There are no flags!”

Another shot fired over your head as Steve analyzed his next steps, yelling back, “not my future!” Leaping forward, Steve rolled and protected himself from another shot from Schmidt as you kneeled by the side, ready to step in.

With a grunt, Steve threw the shield at Johann, forcing him to hit the glowing table, the item inside slowly coming out of its container. You narrowed your eyes, “what the hell is that?” Its bright light captured your attention as Schmidt stood beside it, “what have you done?”

The bright blue box was now outside its container, off to the side from the force of Johann’s body; Schmidt grabbed it, and after a few seconds, bright lights flew around the ship and the universe seemed to open up above him. Your brain could not comprehend what you were seeing – millions of stars and planets littered the space above as Schmidt stood below, arms beside him as he looked up.

Slowly, Schmidt’s body began to deteriorate, his screams of pain echoing throughout the ship, rainbow flashes coloring your vision as both you and Steve looked away. Then, in a split second, the blue cube fell to the ground and Schmidt was gone.

You looked at Cap, “what…what just happened?”

Steve shook his head, leaning down to grab his shield before nodding towards the pilot’s seat, “we gotta figure this out.”

Sitting beside him as co-pilot, you turned on the radio as Steve tried to figure out how exactly to land the aircraft. He looked down at the map, noticing the ship was on its way to New York. Looking at one another, you pressed on the intercom button beside you, “come in! This is y/n l/n, alongside Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

Right away, someone responded, “Y/N, L/N, what is your –“

Quickly, Peggy interrupted him, “y/n! Is that you? Is Steve with you? Are you both alright?”

You sighed at the sound of Peggy’s voice as Steve smiled, “Peggy! Schmidt’s dead and – and –“

Peggy calmed you down, “what about the plane?”

You looked to Steve for help as he talked for you, “that’s a little bit tougher to explain.” You raised an eyebrow at Steve as you grasped onto Bucky’s dog tags around your neck, trying to help the conversation. Peggy continued, “give me your coordinates, I’ll find you a safe landing site.”

With solemn eyes, you looked at Steve who was trying his best to possibly fix something, anything, “there’s not gonna be a safe landing…but I can try and force it down.”

Peggy stumbled, “I – I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.”

Steve shouted back, “there’s not enough time. This thing’s moving too fast and it’s heading for New York.”

The sky ahead of you looked beautiful. It was orange, mixed with bits of yellow and blue. Your nose had grown quite cold and your hair whipped your face as you still grasped onto the dog tags.

Steve breathed heavily, “I gotta put her in the water.”

You knew this was coming. You just knew it.

Peggy responded, “please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out.”

You called out to Peggy, “Peg…we’re in the middle of nowhere. If we wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die.” Steve glanced at you with worry in his eyes; you nodded to him as he continued, “Peggy… this is our choice. We’re okay.”

Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out a compass with a picture of Peg in the middle of it, placing it on one of the meters. With a grunt, Steve pushed the level down, the airship leaning towards the ocean in no time. You looked at Steve, your heart racing as tears raced your cheeks; not in fear, but in sadness.

Sadness that you never got to have your dance with Bucky at your wedding, nor see his smile once again or feel his lips against your own. You wouldn’t get to hear his gravelly voice in the morning right after a good night’s sleep, or get to hold his hand as he pulled you along at fairs. You wouldn’t be able to smell him or feel his hair against your fingertips as he cuddled into your chest. You wouldn’t be able to be with him before you died.

The altitude was dropping fast and Steve continued to look at the picture of Peggy, the sun glaring in his eyes, “Peggy?”

With a whisper, Peggy responded, “I’m here.”

Steve stared at the glaciers that were coming into view, “I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance.”

Your lips quivered as the glaciers came closer and closer to you. Peggy let her tears fall as she whispered back, “all right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club. And I expect you there, too, y/n. You hear me?”

You and Steve let out a breath as Steve responded, “you got it.” Steve reached beside himself and grabbed for your hand, holding it tightly. The tears came faster as did the glaciers and the cold water.

Peggy continued, “8 o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. You two understand?”

You swallowed, tears clouding your vision, “yes ma’am.”

Steve stared at the oncoming landscape, “you know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

Peggy whispered as Steve’s hand gripped yours tight, “I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

Steve had his own tears running down his cheeks as you sobbed quietly, hand gripping his tight, “we’ll have the band play something slow.”

Steve turned back towards you, eyes sad as he saw your cheeks, “I am so sorry, honeybee. I’m so sorry.”

With your remaining hand, you held onto Bucky’s dog tags tightly, alongside Steve’s hand, as he turned back to the radio, “I’d hate to step on your…”

The last thing you saw was your James Barnes standing right in front of you, arms wide as he yelled, “my honeybee! There she is – looking gorgeous as ever, honey.” With a kiss to your lips, it almost felt real as you responded, “hi, Jamie.”

honeybee taglist:

@clownerlyluv @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[morgansmoreid]

Do You Still Love Me • Derek Morgan • Chapter Nine

Chapter Name: " Reasonable"

Fic Masterlist

Italic writing stands for flashbacks.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Parental Abuse, Drugs Mention, Homophobia

Bold Writing stands for what happened at the station while Y/n was not present

---

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four.

Y/n's feet clacked against the concrete floor.

Rubbing the palm of her hand against the outline of the pills, Y/n moved along the cars as she slowly walked to the station, this time her mind as empty as an open field.

The station was in her view quicker than anticipated. She pulled open the front door, the bell above it causing everyone who was in ear's views to turn their heads. Scanning each face carefully, relief swayed through Y/n as no face was anyone she dreaded to talk to.

Her relief was cut short as Aaron walked down the hall to her left with the team, her father, and James.

"That was all we needed to know," She heard him say as Aaron shook her father's hand.

James was the first to see her, alerting the rest of the people surrounding him by clearing his throat. Y/n made eye contact with James, her breaking first as her eyes fell to her feet. Thoughts of turning around and sprinting on her heels again popped in Y/n's head, but she ignored them and just looked to the floor.

"Y/n Y/L/N-Fields, please come with us." Emily moved from the center of the group and to Y/n, reaching out her hand to lead Y/n the way of the interrogation room. Y/n took it, keeping her head down as they walked past the group, eyes burning through her back as the pills in her pocket scream her name.

Emily opens the door and lets Y/n take a seat before heading outside again. Everyone is looking at the young female through the one-sided window, their eyes still leaving the same burning gaping hole.

Aaron and David come in, both faces stoic and tense. In hand, Aaron has a yellow pad and a pee cup while David has a blood test. Y/n's eyes grow wide at the objects placed in front of her before she sits up straight and lays her hands on the table.

"You aren't drug testing me." She says, her tone assertive but calm.

"But we are," David replies, looking over to Aaron.

"You understand that this is a federal investigation now? If you comply, these samples will not go on record but will be used for further inference. If you don't, they will go on your job record and you will be on leave effective immediately." Aaron threatened, leaving Y/n no choice.

"I'm clean." She mumbled as she rolled her sleeve for the blood test. Even if she wasn't, it wouldn't show for another 2 days, so it would be negative anyway.

Aaron said nothing as he opened the blood kit and wiped Y/n's inner arm with a sanitary wipe. Y/n winced at the needle entering her arm, the pain lasting as blood filled four tubes. Placing a bandaid on her arm, Aaron disposed of the needle in a different bag before opening the door and handing it to a hand outside.

Y/n may have not seen the person who took the bag, but she saw Derek. He was leaning against the wall across from the door, arms crossed. They made eye contact, this time neither one breaking it, just before the door closed.

"Do you need water?" David's voice pulled Y/n out of her thoughts.

Yes. Her throat was dry and scratchy.

Yes. Water would go well with the pills in her pocket.

"No thank you," Y/n looks up to David. He gives her the look of pity and sorrow and she feels herself hanging on by a thread.

"Come with me then," David holds the look as he turns around, cup in hand, and opens the door for Y/n.

Walking out, Y/n and David turn to the right from the small room while the team and others are on the left. David stands outside of the unisex bathroom as Y/n pees in the given cup. Washing her hands, Y/n stares at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes are red and her arm is now in pain. She feels like she's in one of those bad teenage romcoms, where the main character fucks up her life and in the end, it gets better. She's just waiting for her cue.

The silence lasts in the bathroom as Y/n bags her cup and places it on the small window ledge. She could run right now if she wanted to, but it wouldn't be worth it. Y/n turns on the bathroom faucet again and pulls out the baggie of pills from her pocket. 7 white tablets look at her as she takes one into her hand and shoves the rest back into hiding.

Just before she could bring her hand to her mouth and consume the evil, little miraculous wonder, David knocked on the door causing her to drop the pill in fright. Right into a puddle of "water," the pill went as Y/n hissed at the closed brown door.

"Fuck!" Her words echoed in the small room.

"Y/n? Is everything ok in there?" David's voice is muffled on the other side.

Instead of answering him, Y/n grabs the cup and pushes open the door, slamming the cup into the elder's hand and walking back into the integration room. She passes everyone, this time not bothering to even acknowledge Derek's presence, or his attempt to talk to her.

She slacks down in her seat and waits for the next person to walk through the door. It's Aaron again, with Penelope's laptop and a tape recorder in hand as he carries a file in his armpit.

"Before we start, shall I address you as Fields or Y/L/N?" Aaron precautions.

"Y/L/N, and only Y/L/N," Y/n says, voice cold as ice.

"Ok then, for the record, can you please state your full name, your age, and the year?" The first question leaves Aaron's lips.

"My name is Y/n Y/L/N, I am 29, and it's the year 2008."

Hotch scribbles Y/n's words down and opens the laptop. When he turns it to her, it's already open to a cheer photo from Y/n's sophomore year of high school.

"Please state who you recognize in this photo." Aaron opens the file that was once under his arm.

Eyes read the screen multiple times as the memories resurface in Y/n's head and the names leave her mouth.

"Sabrina Chains, Joanna McCarter, Daisy Miller, Rose Henry, Arianna Anderson, Megan Smith, Daniela Choi, Christina Middleton, and Catarina Paredes."

It's not in order, Sabrina is actually next to Daisy and Joanna is standing next to Daniela, but when Y/n recognized the face, she said the name.

"And who is this?" Aaron hits the right arrow key to move to the next slide. Y/n is horrified by what she sees. It's not another group picture or even a single picture of one of the women, it's a crime scene photo.

It's Arianna's crime scene photo, the only crime Y/n wasn't surrounded by the group for. The hotel room is way messier than others, the behavior completely changed from the last 3. Blood is everywhere, money and jewelry are splattered across the floor and there are no numbers on top of the body or anywhere for that matter. If the other kills weren't personal, this was. Arianna was killed by someone in rage and mixed emotion.

Just how Y/n left the team.

She can only look at the gruesome crime scene for so long until she reaches for the hood of the laptop to shut it off. Aaron is quicker and pulls it out of her sight as he switches to another picture of the crime scene, this time the bathroom.

Two looks and Y/n is ready to throw up. She trained for this, she worked her ass off for the last 5 years on how to keep her composure, yet, she's failing to keep herself together. The bathroom is a mess, clothes are ripped and makeup is smeared on walls, this unsub lost control or this is a new killer. Either way, it's not Y/n and there is no way that the team can possibly deem her that low.

"Please turn it off." Her voice is tense and demanding.

Aaron does shut the laptop and turns it to him. He takes a minute to write down his observations and proceeds with the integration further.

"When you left the Police Station, you were gone for 2 hours and 13 minutes, where did you go?" He asks, writing down the question as he says it.

"James, where is she?" David asks, handing Spencer a miniature Newton's cradle to calm him down.

Everyone looks at James for an answer. After Y/F/N was questioned, he and James were separated for the sake of the case. James was working on a different case file, wrapping it up on the end of the conference table while the team focused on Y/n.

"I'm not positively sure," James lied, rubbing the back of his neck as his handwriting started to get sloppy against the manila folder and its contents inside.

"Well, where do you think?" Derek spoke, his tone snappy and agitated.

After Y/F/N gave up his truth about Y/n's past and her drug problems, Derek was also questioned, not officially, just about how much he knew and what he wasn't letting on. Derek was honest with Hotch and the team, telling them he had no idea about Y/n's problem. Yes, it was true sometimes it intrigued him when they had date night and she never drank anything besides sparkling water, but when she blamed it on "past issues," he assumed it ran in the family.

He assumed because he trusted her.

And she broke that.

"Michael? The guy that Chief Fields couldn't stand? He lived right over here." James gets up and points to the computer screen. Y/n's last coordinates were still up so he dragged his pen across the screen, measuring out the distance for the team as he landed on the only colorful house in satellite view.

"I thought Michael was who introduced her into the drugs in the first place?" Aaron walks over to James.

"It's not really his fault, I've always told Y/n that she could've said no," James responds, becoming silent from everyone's glare at him.

"Saying no isn't easy," Derek mumbles, so low, no one heard him.

No one could say anything as another policeman came into the room frantically about a new body.

Y/n had only been gone 34 minutes at most. There was no way it could be her so quickly, but that didn't stop everyone's thoughts from going to the deep end.

As the team flies into the SUVs, Aaron orders Penelope to keep watch on Y/n's coordinates and dig very thoroughly of the lives of the 9 women, 5 now potential victims.

"Someone has it out for these women, and I wouldn't put it past that Y/n is the glue." He said, tightening his holster.

"I just walked around, took time to clear my head." Y/n lied.

Everyone knew where she was, but Aaron didn't call her out on her false truth and asked the next question.

"When was the last time you purchased any narcotics of the sort, Opioids, Cannabinoids, Hallucinogens, and or Stimulants?" Aaron asked, unsure he wanted to hear the answer himself.

"Last time I was in town, 5 years ago." Y/n lies again.

This time, half of the team is unsure if it's true. James knows deep down it's a lie, but the rest of them don't want to believe it.

So Aaron doesn't push.

"And the last time you consumed any of the narcotics listed before?"

This question, everyone wants the truth, everyone is determined to figure out if they let another team member sink into their addiction before their eyes or if Y/n truly did put her life here behind her.

"As I said, last time I was in town, 5 years ago," Y/n says, her tone changing. It speaks of truth, which tells everyone, even her father that she lied about the last time she bought drugs and where she was, but they don't care about that at this moment.

All they care about is her sobriety, they were still her family after all.

Aaron smiles internally as he writes Y/n's answer on the yellow pad, then ripping the sheet off and sliding it underneath the cardboard. When he does this, the next yellow sheet visible is not blank, it's all of Y/F/N's previous questions. The horrible lights make it hard to see all of them but it still shines bright on the first one.

"What was discipline like as Y/n grew up?" Aaron asks his first question.

The question throws Y/F/N off guard. That had nothing to do with the investigation, what did the FBI want to know about his parenting?

"I believe you were asked a question," David says beside Aaron, arms crossed.

"This has to do what with the investigation?" Y/F/N asked, finally understanding the concept of what he was being asked.

"Agent Hotchner, are you implying that I abused my daughter?" He accused, now not feeling so compliant.

"I didn't say anything to imply, did I, Agent Rossi?" Aaron says loud and clear, bringing the tape recorder to him.

"Not at all, but I think you should repeat it, someone seems confused," Rossi taunted.

"Y/F/N Fields, what was discipline like as Y/n, your daughter grew up?" Aaron demanded an answer.

"Reasonable," Y/F/N said.

"Reasonable how?" Rossi pressed.

"If needed, I taught my daughter wrong from right," Y/F/N replied confidently.

"Did you at any given point in time, use your power as a parent to hit Y/n as a punishment?" Aaron asked bluntly. He hated abusers, it was something about finding pain and taking it out on others that he just could never understand.

"I did. But like I said when it was reasonable." His mouth forms into an undeniable smirk.

Y/F/N's hand went across Y/n's face.

"I said I was sorry!" The girl cried, she was only trying to show her dad an A+ she got.

"You're always sorry, there was no reason for you to knock that down." The angry male pointed to the empty cup on the floor.

Out of excitement, Y/n's elbow hit the plastic cup and knocked it down, but she was backed into the wall before she could pick it up, dropping her graded test midway.

"Reasonable," Y/F/N mumbled to himself.

Anger filled Y/n as her eyes went over the word reasonable.

Never once was Y/F/N reasonable.

Never.

Clenching her fists, Y/n sits up straight and zones back into her conversation with Aaron.

"Can you ask it again?" She says, making straight eye contact.

"Your relations to Daniela Choi?" Aaron asks.

Y/n doesn't know how to reply, she knows Derek is watching so she has to careful with her answer.

"I was-," She gathers her thoughts. "We were pretty close."

It's not a lie. They were close, extremely.

"Who would you say Y/n was closest to?" Aaron asks James.

The team started the investigation from the very beginning, so now everyone was a suspect.

"I've got a funny feeling about that dude, Hotch," Derek says, but his judgment is clouded, he's angry and hurt so to make him feel better, Aaron took James in for questioning.

"Daniela." James's answer is short.

"Why?"

"They dated, for a long time, blew up our whole group," James explains.

"What group?" Aaron flies through the files that he brought in.

Instead of answering, James takes out a picture.

"He's prepared." JJ points out.

The picture is a cheer team, James is nowhere to be found but the first person to catch Aaron's eye is the babyface of Y/n, she in middle, engulfed in a hug by a female with curly mixed hair- Arianna he later finds out. He wants to question why James has this but James continues to talk.

"Not everyone was supportive."

"What?" Rose asked.

"I'm dating Y/n," Daniela said slowly, it was time the two told their friends, the thought of banishment slipping their minds.

"You and Y/n? But your both girls!" Rose exclaimed, as the pastor's daughter, she was raised to what she thought was right.

"So? My mom said it doesn't matter and we both know Y/F/N won't bat an eye." Daniela spoke for both her and Y/n.

"Guys! Help me out here, tell them it's wrong." Rose looked around the booth, empty cups filled the large table as her high pitch voice filled the empty diner.

"How is it wrong?" Caterina scoffed, she could never have the courage to do what Danny and Y/n are doing but she'll stand by them no matter what.

"The bible-" Rose protests.

"For the last time, not all of us live by the damn bible!" James slammed his hand on the teal table before them.

Everyone loved each other, no one cared for anyone's flaws, like Rose's, who always ignored everyone when they try to tell her they don't want to hear bible quotes, or Y/n who always inserts herself into drama.

They were each other's little family and until now nothing has torn them apart.

"I refuse to be around them and their sins," Rose shoved her finger into Y/n's, finally the young girl to stand up.

"And we refuse to be around you." Y/n's tone is cold and tense.

"We all do." Arianna stood up.

"Christina?" Rose looked at the oldest for help.

"You heard them, you can't hate one without hating all of us." She said.

Christina's word was final. If she said someone was out, they were out, no discussion. She just had to say the words.

"Rose, are you staying or leaving?" She asked.

"I'm leaving, my dignity lasts." Rose proudly held her head high.

"Bye then. You longer are allowed to hang out with us." Christina said with much more pride.

The 10 at the table watched the first walk away.

"Not everyone agreed." James rephrased his sentence, fists clenching in anger.

As James told Aaron how the day that Rose left the group went, his fingers dug deeper into his hand, and when he finally let go, crescent marks left their place.

"When you say close, what do you mean?" Aaron wants to hear from Y/n, James is not trustworthy enough right now.

"I had a relationship with Daniela," Y/n admits.

Hearing the words makes Derek turn on his heels and leave the group in the hall. He needs air, he needs to be away from Y/n right now. He told her he was sorry about her friend and she just went with it, in his eyes, she lied to him.

She did the one thing that he always asked not to.

"Derek?" Spencer's voice called from behind him.

"Not now," Derek says, but it's more of a plead. He doesn't want to take his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, he wants to take his anger out on Y/n.

Spencer leaves him alone and Derek takes a few minutes to himself. When he heads back to the station, he refuses to join back with the group, he heads back to the table in the conference room and starts working, the way his handwriting fills each paper and picture easing his mind.

As the minutes feel like hours, Y/n's interview is finally done and she feels bare. She hates how much she revealed, she hates how much has been stripped, how her walls came down and she had no say.

She hates most of her answers were lies that found their way into her truth.

But she won't tell them that, they don't need to know.

They don't get to know.

Aaron lets Y/n head to the hotel first, but when she steps outside, it's dark. Her phone is dead and her body is tired, yet her feet take her to the hotel doors, they let her step into the elevator and into her room. Her hands ache but they plug her phone in and they pull her shirt off. Her hands ache but they turn the knobs of the shower and unbutton her pants. Her legs hurt but they step out of the jeans and help her feet kick them to the side. Her body is a temple of pain but as she removes her bra and underwear, as she steps in the shower, as her fingers run over her body and squeeze the soap out of her cloth out, letting it slide down her figure, she finds her self sitting in the middle of her bed, the air silent where she finally lets her self cry.

So many years of bottling up feeling, so many years of trauma, and it took 34 questions to strip her of who she was. Every single question she counted, every single time she felt betrayed, she counted, her life was out there to know, memories she hid taunt her.

A knock on her door pulls her out of her thoughts.

When she gets up, she takes notice of the black shirt she was wearing 24 hours ago. The feeling of Derek's hand run up and down her body in chills as she walks closer to the door.

24 hours ago everything was peaceful.

Now it's a shithole.

Cracking open the door, Y/n is surprised, to say the least. Both people are silent as she opens the door more and lets the person step in.

"Derek-" She tries.

"No. You don't get to talk. It's your turn to listen." He says, meaning every fucking word.

[itsjohannaaa]

Home ~ Upstead Fanfic

My take on what happens after that kiss in 8x03! Also based on what we know of episode 4, so I’m trying to be a bit realistic. I’m personally of the opinion that I hope they don’t jump into bed immediately; I still love the slow burn of it all. Hope you guys like it!

“He wasn’t really wrong though, was he?” Hailey says, tilting her head. “You gain something... you give something up.”

She thinks about all the ways in which that is true. If she takes the job offer, she loses Jay. If she stays, she might lose the possibility to have something more with Jay. And if she risks it all and tries to have something more with him, then she might lose him as her partner. They work so well together, and she knows he makes her better at the job, so losing him as a partner is an unbearable thought. But then again, never trying to have something more with him... walking around feeling the way that she does about him... isn’t that equally as painful?

She is selfish for wanting to have it all.

Her lower lip trembles with emotion as she watches him. He is quiet for but a moment, looking at her with an intensity to his eyes. “Maybe,” he says finally, “but... not always.”

His voice is soft, reassuring, tense.

He thinks she can have both. But in which way? Is he talking about the job, or... or about them?

Hailey knows then, that the only way to find out is to finally do it. Say what she was going to that day in the hospital.

She nods, fighting to hold back tears that stubbornly threaten to spill over. An irritated “ugh” slips out as she tries to shake off the emotion.

“It’s been a long time,” she says, slowly, carefully choosing her words, and finally meets his eyes again, “since I saw you as just my partner.”

She quickly wipes a tear from the corner of her eye with another sound of disgust at the annoying emotions she can’t seem to control, but a small smile curls her lips; it’s an admittance of her feelings, she knows it. It’s vulnerable and it’s scary and it’s a daring leap, but it’s Jay. She feels safe with him. No matter what comes next, he’ll be gentle with her emotions.

But rejection doesn’t come. Instead, one moment she’s just aware of being captivated by his gaze, and in the next he’s pressing his lips to hers. Hailey closes her eyes instinctively, leaning into the kiss, and she’s eager. Her heart picks up speed as she realizes that this is him telling her, without words, that he feels the same. He feels the same. Butterflies are born and flutter around in her stomach with joy.

Jay always has been a man of actions, instead of words.

His stubble tickles her cheek, but his lips are soft and warm against hers, and she lets one of her hands slide down the side of his chest. She’s consumed by the feel of his muscles under her hand, and his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers travel up his neck and braid into his hair, pulling him closer.

She’s never been much for public displays of affection, but he makes her forget where they are.

The kiss slows, and she tries to take it all in, savoring the feel of him, with her, here, now. The taste of him is sweet and warm, wrapping her in safety and calm.

When they finally pull apart, they’re both breathing heavily, faces still mere inches apart. Slowly, she opens her eyes and looks at him. There’s a hint of a smile playing across his lips, but his eyes are intense; deep blue and green, filled with something like awe. She smiles brightly back at him — she can’t help it; the butterflies are still there, keeping the joy inside her alive.

“You look happy,” he points out, and his smile is now a full fledged a grin.

“Well, don’t let it get to your head.” She shrugs, feigning a look of innocence. “I’m just relieved that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore.”

He laughs and raises his eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t?”

“Mhm.” She tilts her head and grins up at him. 

He shakes his head amusedly. “Let’s go,” he says in a soft voice. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

She nods, and the butterflies lose it completely as he slips his hands into hers, guiding her out of the bar.

He opens the car door for her and she slips into the passenger seat, buckling herself as he takes a seat behind the wheel.

“Just in case I wasn’t really clear about it,” Jay says carefully as he starts the engine, “I... I’m really glad you didn’t take the job, Hailey.”

Hailey grins as they pull out of the parking lot. “Oh, I think you were pretty clear,” she says teasingly. He smiles, too, but there’s a vulnerability and earnest to his eyes that immediately sombers the moment. “I am, too, Jay,” she says earnestly. “As great as it was... New York would never feel like home.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” he agrees quietly. He glances over at her then, and from the look in his eyes she can tell that he gets it. That home is where he is. And that he feels the same way about her. She swallows against the lump of emotions in her throat that once again threaten to overwhelm her.

When he looks back at the road, he’s quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping the steering wheel indicating something’s on his mind.

“What’s up?” she asks curiously.

“I just... I, uh, don’t know what to tell Voight,” he admits finally, looking a little apologetic.

Hailey grimaces. “Well, we don’t have to tell him anything yet, do we? I mean, we don’t even know what... this is yet.”

“Yeah,” he says hesitantly. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll just... keep showing him that we’re good together, right?”

“That’s right.” She grins at the callback to what she’s told him multiple times before, and he looks at her with humor and warmth in his eyes.

When they finally pull up in front of her apartment, she finds herself reluctant to get out of the car; to leave the safety and warmth of him.

She turns to him, biting her lip, as though she’s about to do something bold. “Come inside?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

His eyes grow intense again and he looks deliberative as he studies her for a moment, his eyes wandering across her face. “Yeah,” he finally says, his voice low. “I think I’d like that.” He nods and they both get out of the car, walking up the front steps to her door together. The lock clicks as she puts her key in and turns it, opening the door to a pitch dark apartment. There’s no longer a Vanessa there to keep it alive and alight.

She closes the door after letting Jay step inside, drops the keys on a small table and steps out of her shoes. Once she’s wrapped her jacket around a hanger, she heads into the kitchen, turning the lights on as she passes by the switch.

“Want some coffee?” she asks as she pulls the hair tie loose, shaking her hair out and combing it down with her fingers.

Jay doesn’t reply immediately, and she takes a few steps back to look over at him. He’s standing by the mirror in her hallway, looking at the picture frames beneath it. She knows they feature her with all the members of Intelligence.

“Jay?” she repeats softly.

He looks up at the sound of his name. “Oh. Yes, please.” He follows her into the kitchen this time. “Do you miss her?” he asks gently.

She presses her lips together as she gets the coffee machine started. There’s no need to ask to know whom he’s talking about. “Yeah,” she says earnestly. “I do. It was surprisingly nice to have someone to live with. This apartment is just... too big for one.” She gives a shrug as she fetches two mugs from a shelf. “Now it just feels empty.”

He nods. “I get it,” he says compassionately, tilting his head. “You know... you know I’m always here if you ever need anything, right? To talk, or just company or... whatever.”

Hailey can’t help but smile at that. “I know,” she says warmly, touching her hand to his arm. She lets her fingers wrap around his wrist and follow it down to his hand. When she looks up from their intertwined hands, she finds that Jay’s already looking at her. He reaches up to cup her chin, brushing his thumb ever so gently over her cheek. His long fingers push her hair back behind her ear and continue down, trailing down her throat and tracing her collarbone, leaving a blaze of fire in their wake until finally, he pulls her close. She leans into his embrace, his strong arms wrapping around her to rest at the small of her back. He leans down and buries his face in her neck and she shivers and thinks that she’ll never feel so much at home anywhere as she does right here in his arms.

When he pulls back a little, his warm breath brushes over the side of her face and tickles her ear.

She looks up at him and raises her hand, letting her fingers explore him this time, tracing his jawline and brush over his lips, and his eyes flicker with a fire she’s never seen in them before.

“This is nice,” she mumbles as she leans in again, and they’re so close that their lips brush together as she speaks. “We’ve been close for a long time, but... not in this way. It feels right... to be so close to you in this way too.”

A trembling breath and then his lips connect with hers again. There’s a hunger in the kiss this time, and Hailey knows that they both crave more. His hands rest on her waist and his fingers slip under the hem of her shirt, causing her to shiver as goosebumps prickle her skin. Hailey slides her hands up his neck into his hair, her nails dragging slightly, and she clings to every single sound he makes. Every shaky breath, every small groan, and it’s enough to set her on fire.

He hoists her up against the counter and she wraps her legs around him, pressing every part of his body closer to her, and it’s still not enough. Jay’s hands inch up her sides under her shirt and she tugs at the hem of his, which he willingly allows her to pull off. Her fingers roam across his bare chest, marveling at the way he looks and feels under her hands, and he leaves a blazing trail of kisses down her neck. She lets out a happy sigh and when he comes back up to kiss her again, she slips her tongue into his mouth, dragging a rough noise out of him that she never wants to forget. 

He moves his hands even further up her body, and when his fingers brush over the lace of her bra, she reaches for the buttons on her plaid shirt and quickly undoes them. As she drags her lips over his jaw and down his neck, he lets his hands slip under the fabric of her shirt at her shoulders and push backward, gently sliding the shirt down her arms and onto the counter. His hands follow its path, running down her arms and then back up, and she shudders under his touch. He grins a little, probably at the very obvious physical effect he has on her, and she feels a little smug when reaching for his belt immediately wipes it off his face.

“Hailey,” he mumbles against her lips, and she feels his reluctance.

“What?” she whispers breathlessly. “You don’t want to?”

He groans. “Of course I do. It’s just... are you sure you want to? We’re moving... very fast.”

She smiles and has to stop herself from visibly rolling her eyes. Of course his only concern would be for her.

“Jay... it’s been a long time for me, remember?” she says softly. She’d known what she wanted at least since that day at the hospital, when she didn’t know if he was going to make it. Probably before that, too. She just hadn’t allowed herself to realize it, or even think about the two of them in that way. Their partnership came first. “I want this. I want you.” 

Jay doesn’t need any more convincing. His mouth collides with hers again and they pick up right where they left off.

Only, just like that day in the hospital, they are interrupted. By yet another phone call.

With a groan, Hailey pulls back, glancing over at her phone which apparently had, at some point, gotten thrown across the counter. The name of the caller shining on the phone screen belongs to someone she cannot ignore.

Jay sighs too, but she sees in his eyes that he knows as well. Being in a better position as he’s standing up, he teaches over for the phone and hands it to her.

“This is Upton,” she replies, still a little breathless. “Yeah, okay. Got it, Sarge, I’ll be right in.”

Jay starts moving before she even finishes the call, clearly gathering from her tone that duty calls. He buckles his pants and pulls his shirt back on, and then he leans in close, reaching around her for the plaid shirt on the counter.

“Yes, I’ll call him too,” she continues, looking into Jay’s eyes as he pulls her shirt back up her arms and over her shoulders, slowly buttoning it for her. “See you there. Bye.”

“Case?” Jay asks, meeting her gaze as he finishes the last button.

She nods a little, feeling a bit as though she had been dreaming and was just slapped across the face with reality. “Cop’s gone missing,” she tells him, and the gravity of that news is written across both their faces. “Voight wants us on scene, looking for him.”

Jay nods and lifts her off the counter, but his hands are formal now, no longer hungry and searching. His eyes are focused, not on her anymore, but on the case that’s before them. 

The coffee machine beeps, indicating that it’s done brewing their liquid energy. “I guess that coffee’s gonna have to be to-go,” Jay says regretfully. Hailey chuckles and he smiles as she quickly pours the hot beverage into two take-away mugs.  

Soon, they’re both fully dressed and heading out the front door again. Though slightly regretful of losing a night spent with Jay, Hailey isn’t worried, because she feels certain that they are in it for the long haul. This... romance between them, might still be fresh, new territory, yet Hailey knows in her bones that she loves him. And she doesn’t believe that the connection they have could ever be severed, not by anything, in a very long time.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

Sokka with Tourette’s Headacanons Part Two

that no one asked for but here they are because I wanted to write more

Part One here and links to all of my other TS headcanons and such at the end!

*rubs hands together*

let’s start with premonitory urge and Sokka’s experience with it!

for those who don’t know, premonitory urges are essentially sensory tics. It’s when you feel a sensation or a discomfort in your body where you want to-- no, need to do something for touch something. For example, it can be as simple as this feeling in my body and head that I need to rub my phone screen a certain way. If I don’t rub it, the uncomfortable feeling will linger and make me anxious or extra fidgety. They can also increase tics.

Now, in Sokka’s life with TS, he has had... some problems with premonitory urge. When he was younger and training to be a warrior, there were multiple occasions where he almost sliced his fingers off because he kept getting this physical feeling that he had to touch the swords or spears etc... a certain way.

When he gets older, he finds that they start to bother him during council meetings in the Fire Nation, especially when Zuko is doing important stuff so he has to sit far away.

They’ll be in the middle of an important meeting when Sokka looks up from his doodling to glance at Zuko and this tingling, gravitational feeling suddenly moves through his body and he can’t stop staring at the edge of Zuko’s chair and he knows that he needs to rub it.

Obviously, he can’t just get up in the middle of the meeting, walk over to the Fire Lord, and rub his chair (even though they are dating and Zuko would definitely let him)

I have had experiences like this during class where I would mentally shut down or have to calm myself down from an anxiety attack because I need to rub the white board my teacher is writing on or the teacher’s desk but we are literally in the middle of class so I can’t do that (doesn’t always end like that, but that’s worse case scenario). And it sucks. So much. So, Sokka is miserable.

One time Sokka was so focused on not having an anxiety attack because his body was telling him that he needed to rub the surface of a Fire Nation elder’s desk-thingy that’s in front of his chair (because sometimes his body hates him and it happens to people he doesn’t know that well’s stuff) that he mentally shut down. He ended up squatting in his chair, rocking back and forth for ten minutes after the meeting ended without realizing it because all he could think was don’t interrupt the meeting, don’t be weird, don’t embarrass Zuko

Zuko, being the fantastic boyfriend he is, noticed that Sokka didn’t leave the meeting and thought it looked like an anxiety attack. He kind of just sat with him. He didn’t touch him because he knew Sokka wouldn’t want it and wouldn’t be able to coherently answer if he asked to touch him. Zuko just started talking about random things to try to get his mind off of the feeling.

Once he got back into the moment (with help from Zuko’s dulcet voice), he ran to the desk-thingy and rubbed it. Like, almost dramatically ran his hand across the desk and kind of just let his hand take over and rub whatever part he needed to.

Zuko was confused because this had never happened before (well, it had, but not to this extreme in front of him and Sokka never said anything) so Zuko never knew).

Sokka was kind of embarrassed, but he told Zuko about it and together they came up with a signal for when it got really bad so Zuko could either call a five minute break or make an excuse to switch seats so he could sit next to his boyfriend.

This is another reason that Zuko keeps random things on him at all times so if it gets bad, Sokka will have more to do with his hands than draw, write sentences over and over again, take notes, and tap.

Actually, lowkey stealing this particular headcanon from @tikmasjiens and their story For When He’s Being a Dumb*ss (which I highly suggest reading-- it’s fantastic!): Katara and Zuko (for the purposes of later in life when they’re dating because of course imma make it Zukka) carry little fidget kits / bags around for Sokka because he is forgetful and is sometimes so focused on one particular thing that he starts to run late for a meeting or lunch or hang out that he forgets his own personal fidget things.

The amazing Katara and Zuko have random things: brushes, atla equivalent at paper clips (aka metal things he can bend) (yes, yes, we’ve been hiding this from the world, but people with Tourette’s are actually paper clip benders lol), dice, Pai Sho tiles, and other little trinkets.

One time when Sokka was walking around an Earth Kingdom market out of boredom (and this is after the war because I just want him to not be on edge during this), he sees this young girl making noises and movements similar to him and he sees these two other kids mocking her and laughing at her and Sokka just sees red.

He actually goes over and scolds the kids (who don’t care enough to stay and listen ugh but that’s not the main focus of Sokka’s concern so it’s whatever for now) and this young girl sees him (at around age 17-18) making noises and moving ‘weirdly’ too and she’s just like “I’ve never seen anyone else do that stuff before”

and Sokka kind of just sits down with her and talks to her about his own experience and it’s not anything to be ashamed of, even though it can feel like that sometimes.

he rummages through his pockets and pulls out some of his fidget stuff and gives it to her. He, Zuko, and Katara have plenty of fidget stuff for him. Losing a few won’t matter.

Eventually, her parents return and they part ways. They never see each other again, but they never forgot each other either. It was both of their first time seeing someone else like them.

(and personal anecdote, but one time I was faculty at a camp for the weekend, and one of the kids in my group had just gotten diagnosed with Tourette’s and that was one of the most meaningful experiences I have ever had. I got to talk to him and his mom about my experience and it was... I’ll never forget that)

Sokka may be the protective older brother, but Katara is also the terrifying ‘you hurt my brother I will ruin you’ younger sister. One time, someone mocked Sokka’s tics and Katara’s protective instincts kicked in and she lectured them so hard. and very loudly. so everyone heard.

again, y’all, I know this is about Sokka with TS but WOW I love Katara too, what a queen. Let’s take a moment and appreciate the queen that she is.

Ty Lee and Sokka do yoga together at least twice a week. They both find it relaxing and fun and nice, but it also helps Sokka begin the day with less stress in his body. It doesn’t cure his TS, because there is no cure and he needs no cure, but it definitely helps sometimes.

Something that absolutely kills Sokka is that he wants to cuddle with Zuko at night so badly, but sometimes he genuinely just can’t. Zuko’s arms around him will make him feel too trapped and restrained, his arms around Zuko make him paranoid that if he moves too much, he’ll make Zuko uncomfortable and just stressed himself out by only being able to think about “am I moving too much?” “can Zuko feel me move?” “stay still stay still stay still” and it’s just not fun and he gets tense

But sometimes, he can cuddle and he loves it! Because as much as he hates being held, he desperately longs to be held. As self-conscious as he gets when he holds Zuko, he wants to be able to hold Zuko.

So when he feels like he can cuddle with Zuko, he gets so excited!

Zuko swears up and down that the lack of cuddling on occasion does not bother him, but Sokka still has trouble believing him (not that he doesn’t trust him, but he can’t understand how someone would be okay with it)

One time, Sokka was so distressed about whether or not Zuko was upset with him or pretending not to be upset to spare his feelings that Zuko invited Toph over so she could inform Sokka that he was, in fact, telling the truth about it being okay that they can’t always cuddle and be physically affectionate.

Sokka’s verbal tics both annoy him and don’t annoy him. He’s so used to hearing them that they don’t bother him anymore, but sometimes they make it hard for him to talk and he can feel them and that’s what bothers him.

He’s also self-conscious that everyone hates his verbal tics and are annoyed by them.

On a really bad head day for Sokka, the gaang was going to see a theatrical show per Zuko’s request and it was the first time in months they had all been able to hang out together and Sokka wasn’t having a good tic day and was so genuinely afraid to go to the show because he was going to tic and make noises and what if he distracted everyone? what if the strangers in the audience got mad at him? what if the ushers forced him to leave? how embarrassing would that be?

so he pretended to be sick and didn’t go

but Toph saw through his crap and stayed behind as well because “you’ve heard a play once, you’ve heard it a thousand times” and when everyone leaves, she calls Sokka out and asks him what was up

and he knew he couldn’t get away with lying to Toph, so he told her the truth and she just kind of laughed and went “they don’t bother any of us, seriously”

and Sokka was just “how do you know? It’s not like how much my tics don’t annoy you come up naturally in conversation”

and Toph goes “I don’t need to talk to them about it to know that no one’s bothered by them. Besides, they care about you more than they care about what sounds you make” then punched his arm

(and if Sokka silently cried, no one needed to know)

so, overtime, he gets the nerve to ask everyone individually (because there’s no way he could do everyone at once) just to make sure he wasn’t bothering them. He doesn’t get to ask everyone because some of them kind of get a feeling that he’s anxious about it (and if Zuko maybe mentioned it to some people so they approached him and causally mentioned they weren’t bothered, no one needs to know oops) (don’t worry, Zuko didn’t say anything super personal. Just like “tell Sokka his tics don’t bother you because he thinks they do”. Not like the details and stuff Sokka told him in private)

Katara didn’t answer, just asked if she could hug him and said that she loved him no matter what (and ten minutes later asked him if anyone told him that because if someone in the gaang said it, then she wouldn’t be afraid to spill blood)

Zuko, ever the dramatic and romantic one, knelt in front of Sokka (who was sitting) and went “I love you. I love every single part of you.” *kisses his hands* “I love you for your finger clenching and fist pumping.” *kisses his shoulders* “I love you for your shoulder rolling...” *kisses his neck* “your neck twitches...” *kisses his nose* “your nose scrunching...” *gently kisses each eye* “your blinking...” *kisses his lips* “and for every verbal and motor tic you’ve ever had and ever will have”

(look, I’m just... I’m so soft for that moment and I think about it constantly)

Suki gives him this hard and serious look and says “you are not annoying. You never have been and you never will be” and from just her stare and tone of voice, he knows she’s telling the truth.

Aang immediately just starts rambling and is like “I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel that way but you as so far from annoying! Honestly, sometimes I forget they’re even there I’m just so used to them-- not that they’re forgetful or anything, but they’re just so normal to me that I don’t notice-- why are you crying? Did I say that wrong? I’m sorry--”

and Sokka just grabs him and hugs him and says “No. I love you. Thank you.”

Mai is bad at emoting but she tells him “I don’t mind them. They’re comforting. Sometimes. Better than the sound of an empty house or screaming.”

Ty Lee immediately goes into “who told you you were annoying? I have some new moved I’d like to try. Give me names and they’re test subjects number one” and even Sokka feels fear at the look on her face even though the anger isn’t directed towards him

Azula is kind of snarky at first (because she’s trying not to, but it’s hard and it’s not her fault). She just gives him this seriously? look and kind of goes “you really think they’re significant enough to bother me?” and Sokka knows that’s Azula’s healing way of saying “no, they don’t bother me”

okay but let’s also talk about Hakoda and Piandao and Iroh because I want to and I love them

Hakoda kind of does what Katara does and asks if he can hug him and just tells him how proud he is of Sokka for the man that he’s become and that his TS is a part of who he is and it’s a part of his identity and there’s nothing his TS could ever do to make him any less proud

Piandao actually talked to Sokka about it during Sokka’s Master because it was holding him back of bit. Sokka was kind of embarrassed and was getting frustrated with it. Piandao sat him down and told him that perceived weaknesses are actually one of our greatest strengths. Being a nonbender looks like a weakness to many benders who rely solely on their bending, but it takes a certain kind of person to be a nonbender and that’s something to be proud of. The things that make you different are sometimes the things that teach you how special you are.

Piandao just sees so much potential and good in Sokka and Sokka looks up to him so much.

Iroh always lends Sokka extra or old Pai Sho tiles to fidget with. He also has this relaxing tea that helps his mind feel calm. Again, not with the intent to “fix” or “cure” him, but it helps his anxiety levels go down, in turn helping his tics relax.

Iroh tells Sokka that his tics are nothing to be ashamed of and that true friends would stick with him, tics or no tics.

hey? hey? guess what? Bumi ll didn’t just inherent the nonbending from Sokka, he also got the Tourette’s genes:)

imagine the Uncle / Nephew bonding between them

like, Bumi ll asks him why Kya and Tenzin don’t do weird things but he does? and Sokka just smiles sadly because he knows the feeling and talks to him about Tourette’s.

Bumi ll also got lucky because Katara saw the signs instantly and got him tested as soon as she could.

Let’s just say, aside from the gaang, the Kataang family is the most supportive family of his TS:) (it doesn’t hurt that his aunts and uncles will hung down anyone who ever makes him feel like trash and lecture them or their parents oops)

this is something I have mentioned before, but Sokka struggles to sit through meetings. Having TS and ADHD make it so hard for him.

sometimes he just feels so out of place because in this room full of people, he’s the only one rocking back and forth in his chair and changing his position every three seconds and jerking his head. He just feels... so wrong when he sees how still everyone else is sitting. Yeah, occasionally he’ll see some people tapping their foot or tapping the table in front of them with their fingers, but it’s not the same.

BUT on a happy note and not to make this all depressing (because TS sucks sometimes, but there’s nothing wrong with it or us and it’s a part of who we are) Sokka 100% has a top ten list of his favorite and least favorite tics of all time (I don’t know if people keep track of their favorites or if that’s just something I like to do, but I would imagine that a decent amount of people with TS know their favorites and least favorites)

I won’t bore y’all with an actual list, but his favorite tic is rocking back and forth. The motion is so soothing and comforting to him. Like, it feels right to be rocking. Yeah, sometimes he gets self-conscious about it, especially if he’s the only one in the room moving, but it feels so nice and right.

Sokka: *tics a couple times in a row* ughhhh that was not fun

Toph: *jokingly* wow, I mean, can’t you just, I don’t know, stop? Just, not do it?

Sokka: *jokingly* great idea, Toph! Why didn’t I think of that? All I needed to do all along was just not want to tic!

Toph is the only one ever allowed to do this bit with him. Sokka thinks it’s the funniest thing and it never fails to make laugh

Toph said that out of sarcastic instinct one time and almost choked on her drink because she felt so bad but Sokka was stifling a laugh and replied super sarcastically and then just laughed.

Toph still felt really bad and apologized (Sokka told her it was fine and he wasn’t upset, but she’s also been on the other side of jokes like that and it’s not fun).

Now, though, it’s kind of their thing. They do it every once in awhile and it flows like any other banter. It just happens and they don’t even blink.

(if anyone else did that to Sokka, though, Toph would probably rob them or like soak their clothes in cactus juice so they’re all sticky idk, she just wouldn’t stand for it)

Sokka actually takes a leave of absence from being an ambassador to travel around the four nations and visit schools with Toph and Zuko (who also take breaks). The three of them go to educate schools on disabilities (their own and others).

Sokka also personally makes it his mission to sit in one class at every school and see if there’s anything that he can give advice on. Sometimes, he talks to principals and teachers about how to help accommodate students with learning or “disruptive” disabilities so that they can get the best education that they can while still feeling comfortable and safe.

Now, the three don’t get this all done at once, it takes a year or two, but they do it and all three are just... really proud of it.

Sokka really struggles with Locus of Control (LOC). For those who don’t know, LOC is “ a psychological concept that refers to how strongly people believe they have control over the situations and experiences that affect their lives” (Ed.glossary.org).

Sokka, as many headcanon, likes having control over situations or likes having things ordered and scheduled. He doesn’t like changes to his schedule, he likes having schedules... his tics, on the other hand, are not something he can control or schedule

Giving up that control is hard for him. It wasn’t too bad as a child in a super small village, but once he left the SWT with Aang and Katara, he realized how different having tics was (although he was the only one back at home with tics, he often worked with restless children)

He went through a period of time where he thought that he could control his tics, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. Thus, the loss of control he feels.

He actually went through a ‘phase’ once where he thought that maybe he was making his tics up and doing them on purpose for attention or to be different or something. Katara quickly shut him down and told him that he wasn’t doing that.

I once saw someone say that Sokka has imposter syndrome and I think it correlates a bit with LOC in this context (I should actually do some research about that...).

Learning to understand that he won’t always have control is hard for him. Like. Really hard. He tried so desperately to control his tics and it just increased his anxiety and wore him out. Trying to control tics freaking hurts.

Aang is actually the one to help him with that. He’s had a lot of experience of not being able to control his own life, and although their situations are different, he has methods he uses to attempt to prevent himself from overthinking too much and letting his anxiety take control.

After that, Sokka doesn’t struggle with LOC as badly as he did before. It still sneaks in time after time, but it’s never too prominent and Aang is always there with some advice and distractions:)

(I just also love Aang so much and he deserves the world)

Although Sokka is “weird” with touch, there is one type of touch he is almost always on board with: massages. Massages. I’ll say it one more time: massages. They feel so nice. He carries so much stress in his back and shoulders because of how much he moves them due to his tics.

Zuko can tell when Sokka’s shoulders and back start to hurt really badly and will just sit behind him, heat his hands up (not too much), and give him the absolute best massages.

No. Seriously. Zuko gives the best massages (Sokka once wanted to return the favour and uhhh.... Zuko was not a fan. Although Friends isn’t the best show to take examples from, but uhh Sokka gives massages like Monica Gellar. That is all. Zuko gets his massages from Ty Lee).

Suki gives the second best massages.

Katara third.

So, there’s this one Kyoshi Warrior that works with Suki on guard that Sokka just can’t crack. She has an RBF and rolls her eyes and stuff a lot and she uhhh is kind of rather facially expressive but like, RBF style, so one time when Sokka is having a bad tic day, she makes a face.

It wasn’t aimed towards him, it was about something else, but his heart just breaks because this girl he had been trying to get to open up a bit to him and let loose and not be so freaking serious all of the time hates him.

and later she approached him and just “Sorry. I don’t... I don’t get annoyed by your tics or you or anything. I find them soothing and, I don’t know, nice. Like a reminder that the Fire Lord’s boyfriend is still safe. And they sound nice. I don’t hate them. Or. You.” (look, feelings are hard for her)

and Sokka just :D

alrighty, this is longer than I intended... so we’ll end with me mentioning something I mentioned last time: Yue! (I love her). She never once brings up Sokka’s tics. She never makes faces or asks him why he makes sounds. She’s studied a lot, and while there isn’t too much out there about TS, it’s the NWT, they have lots of books. She could see the signs and assumed.

Never once in the amount of time that they knew each other did she mention it. Sokka appreciated not having to explain himself. He felt safe and welcome there with Yue.

Thank you for reading, anyone who made it to the bottom! I enjoy talking about TS as well as my own experience with it. I love writing about Sokka with TS in particular. There isn’t a lot of TS rep out there, really only the one episode of South Park (don’t watch the show, but I watched the clips about Tourette’s education that the Tourette’s Association of America approved of. It was really heartfelt and lovely to watch and is also a good representation of coprolalia!) and the movie Front of the Class.

My ask box is always available for questions about TS, Sokka with TS, Jay (Ninjago) with TS, anyone’s personal TS headcanons or experience, or any underrepresented neurological disorder that you want to share!

List of TS Stuff Already Written: Part One here , Deeper Than Words (a oneshot I wrote on ao3 of Sokka with TS), a lovely Sokka with TS oneshot written by @tikmasjiens (sorry for tagging you twice ahhh)​ here , Stuck (a Sokka with TS excerpt from a fic I’m writing), NInjago Jay!TS Oneshot

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Yay it's finally letting me ask you! I'm wondering if you could do anything with sick Jason? that'd be awesome. thank you for taking the time to read this :). and also, you're easily my favorite author, and I love you so much. thank you for all you do <3 - anon

prompt:  Hey there. Could you do anything, like literally anything with sick!Jason? - @lettheseabirdscry

“Is everyone in position?”

Tim spares a glance down to see Damian crouched behind a large trash bin, the Robin’s starting position for the recon mission Bruce called all of the bats too, but when bringing his gaze back to the rooftop across from him, it’s empty.

“Hood’s not here,” Tim informs with a frown, unable to shake this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.

“Unsurprising,” Damian scoffs into the comms, his flat tone clashing with Bruce’s deep sigh.

“Robin,” Dick warns over the comms. “One sec; I’ll call him.”

Tim waits, staring hard at the empty spot across from him as if expecting Jason to just manifest before his very eyes, to just stretch through reality’s fabric with some quip about being fashionably late.

“Damn. No answer. Oracle, can we get a ping on his location?”

“He’s probably out becoming intoxicated with Harper.”

Tim doesn’t need to see Damian’s face to know the pull of muted disgust twisting at his lips.

“Arsenal’s out of town,” Barbara mutters flatly in the comm. “And Hood’s phone tracker is showing he’s in his apartment. I can’t get much of a read on anything else. Looks like he finally cashed in on his word that he was going to rig his security systems to block us out.”

“We should move forward with the mission without him.”

Tim considers nudging a loose brick over the ledge of the roof, right above Damian. “He said he’d be here.” Tim knows Jason is a lot of things; he knows that Jason thrives off of disappointing his family, but he’s not one to go back on his word, not with something like this.

“Maybe something came up in Crime Alley? He did say he’d meet us after patrol.”

Tim can hear the worry hidden behind Dick’s easy tone, and he assumes Dick’s carefully redistributing his concern, spreading it out evenly so he doesn’t lose his cool.

“Huh,” Barbara mutters absently into the comms. “His phone tracker says he’s been in his apartment all day.”

“Maybe he left his phone in his apartment?”

“I don’t know. I’ve pulled security camera feeds from Crime Alley, hitting all the locations he frequents, and... well, nothing. Not a single sight of him all day.”

Tim stands fully, narrowly scanning his surroundings for any sign of Jason. He can’t shake the uneasy pull at his chest, and though he’s not physically close to the others, he assumes the feeling’s mutual based on the silence that follows.

“B, I don’t like this. He promised me he’d be here.”

Dick’s no longer working to hide his concern, and that just heightens Tim’s anxiety that something isn’t right. He tries to puzzle together and explanation based on the four times he’s seen Jason this week: twice in Crime Alley on patrol, once two days ago at the Bat Cave, and yesterday walking out of a convenience store. He can’t recall anything out of the ordinary, but Jason’s closed off, more so thanks to the lingering pull of the Lazarus Pit, so normal, outward, physical appearances mean little to nothing.

“Can we delay the recon?” Tim asks. “I’m only ten minutes from his apartment. I can go check and see if he’s there.”

“I don’t want you to go alone.”

“B,” Tim fights back with a groan. “You and Nightwing are thirty minutes out from my location. I can be there and back before you even get here.”

“Take Robin,” Dick says, and Tim has to fight back the unconscious need to sigh loudly. “I know you’re capable, Red, but humor me. You two are stronger together.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Damian’s voice is bleeding annoyance, and for once, Tim can agree with how he’s feeling.

“No,” Bruce mutters, sounding almost distracted. “Hood has made many enemies since coming back to Gotham, and you have no idea what you are walking into. You both go, and you both come back immediately if he’s not there.”

“Keep the line open, and stay in contact, Little Wings.”

Tim rolls his eyes and grapple hooks off the building, landing near Damian. “Okay,” he mutters into the comm, and Damian only scoffs at him and starts off toward Jason’s apartment, leaving Tim to catch up.

***

“You’re going to hack his security system?”

“Yes?” Tim frowns at Damian. “How else are we going to get in?” He starts tapping at a keypad outside of Jason’s apartment door.

“Knocking?”

“Tried that once,” Tim mutters, mind half-focused on the conversation and half-focused on working around Jason’s security. “Almost got shot.”

“You what?” Dick’s voice is alarmed in Tim’s ear, but he disregards it. 

“And you think breaking and entering won’t get us shot?”

Tim shrugs, working around the final code until he hears multiple locks click open. “Don’t get hit,” he mutters, slowly opening the door. He tenses to alert, and he can see Damian match his stance at his side.

They step inside, quietly and carefully, and though Tim’s been here before, he’ll never not be mutely surprised at how domestic the entire place is. There are books stacked on a small coffee table. A blanket’s draped across the couch, and the TV’s on with the sound muted. The lights are on in his living room, kitchen, and bathroom.

Tim glances at Damian, sharing a silent conversation before they begin their quick, quiet search. Tim starts to the kitchen while Damian pads silently down the hall.

The kitchen’s a mess. Dishes are piled high in the sink and are littering the small kitchen table. There’s a bag on a counter, the same bag Tim remembers seeing Jason walk out of the convenience store with. He moves to it, looking to see various medicines tipped over in the bag. Frowning, he makes to pick one up, but then he hears a very loud gun shot accompanied by a very uncharacteristic curse.

“Damian!” Tim drops the bag and whips out of the kitchen to the bedroom, ripping his domino off as he walks in to see Jason shakily propping himself up on one elbow in bed with an even shakier hand aiming a gun at Damian.

“Jason, stop! It’s just us!”

“Was that a gun shot?”

Tim ignores Dick’s frantic question in his ear, instead edging around the room, eyes searching over Damian in the dark. “Were you hit?”

“Of course not,” Damian spits out, stepping forward toward the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Jason’s hand. He clicks the safety and drops the gun to the floor, and then he’s tugging a glove off and slapping a hard hand to Jason’s forehead, interrupting Jason’s deep, wet coughing.

Damian clicks his tongue, a frowm sharp on his face. “You’re burning up.”

Jason weakly slaps Damian’s hand away, staring a look filled to the brim with sharp daggers between the two, stopping on Tim.

“Did you break into my fucking apartment? Again?”

“Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Ignoring Dick once more, Tim reaches around to hit the light switch on the wall, frowning when Jason winces hard.

“You didn’t show up for the recon,” Tim supplies, his stomach twisting at the sight of Jason, of the angry red splotches coloring his otherwise pale cheeks, the sweat shining on his forehead, the inconsistent shivers wracking his broad frame. He studies the way Jason’s face twists around his words.

“That’s because it’s Thursday.”

Tim’s heart clashes with worry, and he and Damian share a glance. He’s surprised to see Damian sporting a similar look of muted concern.

“Jay, it’s Friday.”

“No, it ain’t,” Jason grumbles, hand slapping around on his bed until he finds his phone.

Tim watches as Jason’s face falls.

“Oh.” Jason spares a glance through his messages, unable to read much because his headache is making it hard to concentrate. He looks up from his phone, turning to see a rubber bullet lodged into the wall beside Damian’s head. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” Damian mutters, frowning. He slips around the room, pausing by Tim on his way out. “I’m going to talk with Father and Grayson. You should get a read on his fever.”

Nodding, Tim waits until he can hear Damian’s quick talking with Dick and Bruce before he moves to Jason’s bathroom to find a thermometer, snagging a traditional, under the tongue, mercury one before making his way back to Jason’s room.

“How long have you been sick?”

“How did you hack into my security systems again?”

Tim sighs, cocks his head to the side. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Fuck,” is all Jason replies with, and he takes the thermometer Tim hands him and slips it under his tongue.

“Three minutes,” Tim says, ignoring the sharp look Jason shoots him. “You know they make thermometers now that will tell you your temperature in seconds, right? Why the hell do you have this old thing?”

“Alfred left it a few months ago.”

“No talking,” Tim points out, and Jason glares hard under glassy eyes.

“Then stop asking me fucking questions.”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut, and once he counts to the 180th second, he leans forward and snags the thermometer from Jason’s lips, studying the 102.4 degree reading, equating it with Jason’s other, apparent symptoms.

“Have you been around anyone who’s had the flu recently?”

“I don’t have the flu,” Jason mutters despite the chesty coughs that rip up his throat. “Just a cold.”

Tim takes a step back and crosses his arms. “High fever, coughing, chills, I imagine you have a headache based on the wince when I turned on the lights, and you probably have a sore throat since your voice is physically hurting my ears.”

“What? Are you a doctor now?”

“No, I’m just not an idiot,” Tim spits back, and Jason only grunts and flops back against his pillow, tugging his blanket up with a hiss.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll suit up.”

Tim... does not expect that, and he’s about to scold Jason in a way he’s sure would make Dick proud when Damian slips back into the room.

“Father called Clark. They are pulling in backup for the recon.”

“Well, why’d he go and do something stupid like that?”

Tim rips his eyes from Damian back to Jason to see Jason shuffling around his room for his suit.

“Jason, what the hell?” Tim spits out, moving to Jason’s side when Jason starts to sway. “Sit down.” He nudges Jason back toward the bed, but Jason, despite how sick he is, fights against him.

“We have a recon, don’t we?” He turns to Damian and barks out a cough. “Demon, call B and tell him we’re coming.”

“Todd, you’re too sick. You’d just hold us back.”

Tim takes the distraction to lightly shove Jason back onto the bed.

“I think I’d rather have Dick here,” Jason groans, coughing harshly into his pillow. “At least he has good bedside manner.”

“He and father are already on their way.”

“Fantastic,” Jason growls, curling in on himself and coughing harshly.

Tim moves to pull the blankets up over Jason’s shivering frame, stopping when Damian’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Let me go, Dami.”

“No. I have very specific instructions to relocate you away from Todd.”

“What the hell? Why?” Tim digs his heels into the floor when Damian pulls on his wrist, but he stumbles forward when Jason lazily kicks him in the back of the leg.

“No spleen, idiot. Get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” Tim tries, but Damian’s grip is hard enough to bruise, so he relents with a loud sigh. “Jesus, fine...” He rips his hand free and stalks to the door. “Get him medicine and make sure he doesn’t die.”

***

The deep inhale of nicotine burns Jason’s lungs and brings forth a chesty round of coughing that hurts. He absently rubs at his chest, shivering, and takes in another puff of his cigarette, and then another, desperately repeating this action to chase away the edge of angered anxiety that comes when he’s near Bruce. He leans over the balcony with another shiver, watching his shaking exhale cloud before him.

He hears the balcony door open, but the footsteps are too light to be Bruce’s. They are also too determined to be Tim’s, and too deliberate to be Damian’s. He doesn’t look back when a blanket is draped over his shoulders, and he only scoffs quietly when Dick plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it over the side of the balcony.

“You would still smoke when you have the flu.”

Jason doesn’t reply, not finding the energy for a snarky retort. “What have you all been doing out there?” he asks instead, tugging the blanket tighter around him to fend off the chills.

“Damian’s cleaned your kitchen, and now he’s reorganizing your movie collection. Tim started reading one of your books, but he fell asleep. And Bruce has been staring at your bedroom door as if willing you to run out and give him a big, bear hug.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that quickly morphs into deep coughs. He can feel Dick’s hand on his back as he coughs into his shoulder.

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m alternating between Candy Crush and Words with Friends with Barbara. She’s kicking my ass.”

Jason smiles, tired but genuine, feeling the anxiety flutter off with Dick’s presence. “How long til you all get the fuck out?”

“I don’t think Bruce is going to leave until he’s sure you are okay. Not sure that we can wake Tim right now, and Damian won’t leave until Bruce does.”

“And you?” Jason repeats, and Dick cocks his head to the side with an easy smile.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”

Humming, Jason shivers again, and he allows Dick to guide him back into his room and to his bed. Dick carefully tucks him in, and Jason’s too tired and too feverish to mind.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out suddenly, and Dick’s hands freeze, and he frowns.

“For what?”

“I promised I would show up.”

“Hey, Jay, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick brushes the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead, a sympathetic hum slipping up his throat at the heat. “No more smoke breaks until you’re better. You’re still burning up.”

“You’re saying you’ll support my chain smoking when I’m all better?” Jason bats his eyelashes, and Dick sighs and stands, swatting at Jason’s covered leg.

“Don’t twist my words. I’m going to toss all your cigarette packs out.”

Jason growls lightly, a few coughs mixing with it, and he curls onto his side, wishing the stupid medicine Damian forced into him would kick in a lot faster. “You have until 99,” he mutters to Dick, who’s already filling a small trash bin with cigarette packs.

“What?”

“99,” Jason repeats with a harsh cough that hurts his chest. “When my temp hits 99, I want you all out.” There’s no heat to his tone, and he struggles against the fatigue pulling against him.

“99,” Dick clarifies with a soft smile. “You got it, Jaybird.”

[echoghost1]

Cast Into Obsidian

Word Count: 2530

For: @lexiepiper and @sapphireswimming

Summary: The accident sent Danny to the hospital due to the damage to his eyes.

You can read on AO3 or down below the cut

Danny idly moved his hand back and forth over the blanket on his lap. He was trying not to be impatient, but he really wanted the doctor to hurry up already.

“Okay Danny, I’m going to take the blindfold off now. I’m going to need you to lean forward just a little bit, okay?” he asked and Danny complied, eager to be freed from his prison of gauze and darkness.

As the gauze made its final orbit, Danny took a steadying breath before opening his eyes.

He only found more darkness.

“Are the lights off?” he asked, hoping it was that or maybe his eyes were taking a bit to adjust.

“Yes, we didn’t want to overstimulate you.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and leaned back against the pillows. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing something.”

“Is it too dark?” the doctor asked. Something about his tone seemed off. It seemed almost worried.

“Yeah. Is there a way to turn on one light or something?”

He heard something being written down, “We can try that. Just a moment.”

Danny heard the doctor walk away so he turned in the general direction and waited for the click of the switch.

“This light is on a dimmer and I’m going to gradually turn it up. Just let me know if it’s too much and I’ll turn it back down.”

“Okay,” Danny nodded.

He waited for the light to come on.

He waited.

Waited.

Why was it taking so long?

“Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I don’t know? Maybe turn the light on and I can tell you?”

There was the click of several switches and Danny could hear the buzz of fluorescent lights above him.

But there was nothing but darkness.

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s not something he wanted his doctor to say.

He thought it was bad enough that a stupid accident in his parent’s lab had him in the hospital overnight.

But this? It was so much worse.

“But I can’t be blind.” His voice hitched as he tried to keep his composure, “I want to be an astronaut. You got to get your pilot’s license first. I can’t be blind. I can’t!”

He couldn’t keep it together any longer so he asked the doctor to go away. He didn’t want to cry in front of them.

Why did his future have to rely so heavily on sight? You can’t touch stars. You can’t hear them either.

Why did the thing he loved the most have to go away?

He was only trying to be helpful and now it felt like his whole life was over.

He felt so stupid for crying about this. He wasn’t dead. He should just be thankful he wasn’t dead.

There were tons of people in the world who were blind and they got along just fine. This was just something he’d have to get used to. Something new to learn.

He thought he had it all out of his system but he lost it all over again when his parents found out. The second he heard his mom sniffle he was back at it with the waterworks.

The best the doctors could figure, and there were definitely multiple doctors that had come to poke and prod him once they figured out what happened, was that the light from the machine his parents made was just so bright it fried his eyes.

They all agreed that it was permanent.

Part of him hoped they were wrong about that. Part of him wondered if maybe it was just temporary. Maybe his vision would come back, but not all at once? Maybe he’d have to wear glasses like Tucker for a while. Heck, maybe they’d have the same prescription.

He wasn’t really sure how glasses worked, but he wouldn’t mind finding out if it would get him out of the dark.

He didn’t like how he had to stay in the hospital to relearn how to walk. He knew he was clumsy before, but without his eyes, he was even worse.

They got him a cane so he could waggle that around instead of flailing his arms. He hadn’t realized that it was so obvious.

He also had to get used to people just suddenly being nearby. Sometimes he’d just be sitting and zoning out and someone would just start talking to him, or worse, touch him, and he’d freak out because he didn’t know they were there.

Thankfully, his family learned pretty quickly not to scare him like that. His Dad sometimes forgot to announce himself, but he made so much noise just existing that it didn’t really matter. His mom sometimes forgot to say hello, but she always made sure to warn him before touching him. Jazz was the best at it.

At first, she sometimes went a little overboard by announcing literally everything, even the movement of others, but he did appreciate it.

===============================================

It was his last day in the hospital that his friends were finally able to visit him.

“Now remember you have to tell him where you are or if you want to touch him before you do it.” Jazz whispered to someone at the doorway.

“Jazz you’re supposed to say hello first.” he teased knowing she was just about to.

“I was!” she pouted with a little huff. “Anyway, Hello Danny.”

He stuck his tongue out in her general direction as he waved.

“No fair! I can’t stick my tongue out at you.”

“Sure you can! Just make a lot of noise when you do it!” he gave his best example by humming loudly with his tongue out.

Jazz snorted.

Or maybe that wasn’t her?

“Who’s here?” he asked and wondered why he didn’t just wait for her to introduce them before he teased her.

“Sam and Tucker,” she answered. “You can go sit in the chairs over there if you want,” she said to his friends who were still awfully quiet.

“You know you can talk to me right?” he said once he heard them take their seats. “I’m blind, not deaf.”

“You’re taking this rather well,” Sam said, sounding oddly timid.

“I have had a week to deal with it. Plus you know me? I don’t like being bummed out.”

“No one likes being bummed out, Danny.” she retorted sounding more like her usual self.

“Says the goth.” He teased right back.

Something hit him in the arm and he tensed.

“Oh shoot! I’m sorry! I forgot!” Sam quickly apologized.

“You forgot?! Dude, we’ve been in here for barely a minute!” Tucker yelled through what sounded like clenched teeth.

“Guys!” He really didn’t want them fighting. Not now. And definitely not over him. “I’m fine. She just surprised me, is all. Plus, I did kind of deserve it, so there’s that.” he shrugged it off with a smile and just hoped they relaxed.

It was quiet for a few moments.

Then a couple more.

“Could you let me know if we’re good or not? I am literally in the dark over here.”

Both his friends quickly reassured him that they were fine.

Then Tucker snickered, “Wait, did you just make a pun?”

“Of course!” Danny laughed. He was even happier when they laughed along with him.

With the tension finally broken the trio slipped back into their normal rhythm. It was easy for Danny to imagine that they were just hanging out in his room at home.

There was a knock on the door and Danny turned to the sound, “Who is it?”

“Dude, who are you talking to?” Tucker asked.

“Someone knocked on the door.”

“Who did?”

Danny sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know, Tucker, that’s why I asked, who is it.”

“Well, I didn’t hear a knock.” Tucker retorted.

“Boys!” Sam interrupted, “Danny do you want me to go check?”

“Yes! Thank you.”

Danny heard the creak of the chair as Sam got up and he followed the sound of her boots as they made their way to the door.

The door opened.

After a few moments, it closed again before Sam made her way back over to Danny’s bedside. “I didn’t see anyone. Maybe you just mistook one of the nurse carts rolling past.”

Danny furrowed his eyebrows in frustration, “I know what a cart sounds like and that wasn’t a cart!”

“Geez sorry.” Sam apologized sarcastically as she dropped back into her chair.

Danny sighed, “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He pulled his knees in and just hoped he didn’t piss off one of his only two friends. It’s not like making new friends was going to happen.

He was only frustrated because that wasn’t the first time that had happened. He’d been hearing knocks at his door only for no one to be there all week. It was just often enough to be annoying but not so frequent for him to ignore it.

He thought about telling them about it. Or maybe even ask them to leave the door open in case it really was the cart sounding odd when it passed.

He almost did.

But the knock came again.

“That’s it!” Danny got off his bed in a huff and walked straight to the door, or the general approximation of where he was thinking the door was, anyway. He hadn’t exactly memorized the room yet.

His hip bumped the tray next to his bed, but it was on wheels so it rolled out of the way as he course-corrected.

His friends called for him, both to come back and to be careful, but he didn’t care right now. He needed to find out who was at the door. To prove that he wasn’t hearing things.

He hit the door a bit sooner than he was expecting and it took him a moment of feeling around to find the door handle, but he did it. He took a step back as he opened it to make sure he didn’t bean himself with the thing.

Then he just stopped and stared because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Mostly it was because he was seeing.

Everything was still dark, like he existed in a void with no discernable up or down, but now there was something else. A woman.

Something about her was off, besides the fact that he shouldn’t be able to see her. At first, he thought she was standing on her toes, but then he realized she didn’t actually have feet. Her legs just sort of morphed together into a long wispy tail as it tapered down towards the ground. He looked back up and noticed her short red hair that defied gravity along with the rest of her. He also couldn’t help but notice that the edges of her seemed blurry like she wasn’t really there.

She wasn’t facing him so he had no idea what her face looked like. She was currently knocking on the door across the hall from his.

He slowly closed his door and leaned against it.

There was a soft rhythmic tapping on the door behind him. Like someone was drumming their fingers against it one at a time.

“I knew you could hear me,” whispered a voice from the other side of the door. “Poor little thing. All alone in the dark.” her sugary-sweet voice sent shivers up his spine. “I could help you, you know? All you have to do is let me in.”

His legs shook so bad he slid down the door until he was sitting. Somehow he just knew she wasn’t asking permission to enter the room. She could come in anytime she wanted, he wouldn’t even need to open the door.

No, she was asking for entry into something else. Something much more important.

This was the sort of thing his parents had warned him about all his life.

For once something they taught him was finally paying off.

He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes tight. He had to be firm. He couldn’t let her, it, trick him into agreeing. “No.” he opened his eyes and the darkness didn’t seem so dark now, “I don’t need you.”

She hissed and scratched at the door. “You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

“Go away!”

The door rattled in its frame in response to his outburst and he frantically crawled away from it.

He bumped his head into something and he screamed because everything was just too much.

“Danny! Danny! It’s just me! Sam! I got you!” Sam pulled him into her arms and he clung to her as he shook.

“Hey, I’m coming over too, man,” Tucker said as he came next to Danny and hugged him too.

The trio sat on the floor huddled together until Danny finally stopped shaking and could breathe regularly.

He relaxed his death grip and leaned back with a sigh.

“What the heck was that?” Tucker braved and Danny could hear the click of his phone being unlocked. “I mean, I already didn’t trust this place, but that was something else.”

“Wait,” Danny turned towards Tucker and tilted his head in confusion, “What was that like for you?”

“Well at first I thought you were about to flip out over nothing.”

“Gee thanks.”

“So I pulled out my phone to see if I could catch something funny.”

“You recorded that?!”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t going to send it to anybody.”

Danny crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance, “Well?”

“It’s just that once you started talking, things got weird.”

“Weird how?”

Danny heard his own voice through the tiny speakers of Tucker’s phone, but Tucker just talked over it, “Well I thought I was seeing things at first, but I could have sworn your eyes changed color.”

“You saw it too?” Sam asked as she shifted, presumably to get closer to Tucker and watch the video. “Yeah, right there! Pause it!”

Tucker tapped the screen right as past Danny was yelling at the ghost to go away. “Whoa, they just turned green.”

“And they are glowing,” Sam added.

Which to Danny, her addition was a tad more alarming than a slight hue shift, “Glowing?”

“Who were you talking to anyway?” Sam asked, ignoring Danny’s worry.

“I don’t know.” Danny stammered, “There was this woman. I think it was a ghost.”

“Why do you think it was a ghost?” Tucker asked as he set his phone on the floor.

“Because she was floating?”

“You saw her?” Sam asked in awe.

Danny nodded.

“That’s crazy,” Tucker whispered just as awestruck.

That only made Danny more self-conscious. Did they not believe him? Did they think he was nuts now? Had they always thought he was crazy?

“I can’t believe you can see ghosts! That’s so cool! What’d she look like?” Sam asked eagerly as her hands slapped onto the tile and he assumed she must be leaning towards him.

“You believe me?”

“Of course we do!” She answered quickly, “isn’t that right?”

The sound of something, or someone, nudging into someone else was followed by a grunt from Tucker, “Yeah.”

He was so lucky to have such good friends.

[bowsie22]

Pingxie Collection 3

Summary: Wu Xie is rescued, continuation of chapter 1. Warnings for discussion of torture

The Wang headquarters were imposing. Multiple walls and gates, armed guards, cameras. It was impossible to penetrate. Thankfully Wu Xie had a lot of friends. And a very wealthy uncle with some less than savoury friends himself.

The plan was simple. Xiaoge, Pangzi, Xiao Hua and Heiye would infiltrate the compound to find and rescue Wu Xie. Sanshu and Pan Zi would lead the men hired by Xiao Hua, Xiu Xiu and Erbai in a full-frontal assault, hopefully distracting the majority of the Wangs. Erbai and Xiu Xiu were waiting in an armoured vehicle nearby, ready to drive Wu Xie to safety.

Looking at the walls looming in front of him, Pangzi chuckled nervously. Nudging Heiye next him, “Hey, do we really think we can get through this? We don’t know what’s waiting inside.” Heiye smirked, gesturing at Xiaoge beside him, “They don’t know what’s waiting out here.” Xiaoge glared at the walls in front of them, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. Looking down, Pangzi realised Xiaoge’s knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his sword.

Feeling slightly more confident, Pangzi said a quick prayer before following Xiaoge to back of the compound. There was a weak spot here that Pangzi could blast a hole in, creating their entrance. Behind him, Pan Zi set off the flare that was the agreed signal to start the attack. The Wangs had made a fatal error in taking Wu Xie. And now, they were going to pay for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pangzi thought he had seen Xiaoge and Heiye fight before, but that was nothing compared to now. They took no prisoners, Xiaoge quickly slicing down anyone who got in his way, Heiye taking out those he missed. Pangzi and Xiao Hua trailed behind them, shooting anyone who tried to sneak up on their friends.

Xiaoge was brutal. He barely even looked at the people he killed before moving onto the next one, trusting the others kill any he may have left alive. His only concern was finding Wu Xie and getting him away from the Wangs, nothing else mattered right now.

Heiye had never been afraid of Xiaoge, but watching him now, he could understand why people were. The other man was merciless, his blade slicing through necks, chests, stomachs, whatever necessary to kill the person in front of him. Uncaring of the blood dripping from his sword, the man moved forward, never stopping, never slowing down. He was a machine. And he was terrifying. Not for the first time, Heiye was glad that Xiaoge was on their side.

Xiao Hua had not expected this. He knew that Xiaoge was dangerous, had seen the man fight people and creatures in tombs. But this complete and total disregard for human life was something different. As far as Xiao Hua could see, Xiaoge had switched off his humanity. He wasn’t Xiaoge, Wu Xie’s boyfriend and part time florist. This was Zhang Qiling, trained since birth to kill and would do it without a moment’s hesitation. He was a weapon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wu Xie glared at the man in front of him. He resisted the urge to spit into the other’s face, knowing the pain that would follow if he did. “You know this could all end if you just tell us where the copper fish is.” Wu Xie said nothing. What could he say? He didn’t know where this thing was, and the Wangs weren’t believing him.

He could admit though that the Wangs were good at torture. They started with a beating, concentrating on the face, hard enough to hurt, but not enough to cause any serious damage. The next one was skilful with a knife, leaving shallow cuts on Wu Xie’s skin. They were painful but he wouldn’t bleed to death any time soon. And then came the waterboarding. It was quick, over in a matter of minutes but Wu Xie knew he wouldn’t be comfortable in water for a while.

And even after all this, Wu Xie still said nothing about that fish. He knew that the Wangs were getting annoyed, could see it in the faces and body language of those who fed him and gave him water to drink. They didn’t want him dead, they just wanted him to hurt.

“I’ve told you a thousand times that I have no idea where it is. I don’t even know what it is.” The man growled, reaching out to grab Wu Xie’s hair and yank his head back. The was a very dirty ceiling Wu Xie thought to himself. “Wu Xie, we can do this as long as we need to. We are experts at breaking our prisoners. Sooner or later, we will get the answer from you.” Wu Xie couldn’t stop the eye roll. This guy just didn’t get it, did he? He heard the door open which was odd. Normally when this man, who Wu Xie assumed was their leader, was in the room, it was only him there. Peering over the broad shoulder, Wu Xie couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his face, wincing as it pulled at the numerous cuts and bruises.

“He might be able to tell you where it is.”

Xiaoge stood in the doorway, glaring at the Wang family member. Wu Xie could tell from how the other man tensed that the Wang was scared. Not that the younger man blamed him. His boyfriend looked terrifying. His sword, that Wu Xie normally saw leaning against the wall in their bedroom, was dripping blood onto the floor, the sound of that blood hitting the floor the only sound in the room. Xiaoge’s face was covered in streaks of blood and Wu Xie assumed that his clothing was also ruined, it was hard to see with the dark material.

Smiling at the older man, Wu Xie blew him a kiss. “Hi sweetheart, I thought it would take you guys longer.” Silently, Xiaoge threw something at Wu Xie’s feet. “Oh my god, one of you left your dog tags behind. I thought you guys were meant to be good.” Wu Xie didn’t know where this sudden courage was coming from, how he was able to laugh through the pain in his ribs, but he did. The Wang whirled around; hand raised to hit Wu Xie. Before he could, a knife flew past him, slicing his shoulder open.

That was when Wu Xie realised Xiaoge wasn’t alone. Sliding through the door behind him were Wu Xie’s friends. “Pangzi, Xiao Hua, get Wu Xie and go. Heiye and I will take care of this once and for all.” Pangzi nodded moving forward to untie Wu Xie’s hands and feet, supporting the young man as he stumbled. They moved past the Wang who was now concentrating on Xiaoge alone. Before they left, Wu Xie reached out to cup Xiaoge’s cheek, uncaring of the blood that smeared on his hand. Immediately Xiaoge turned to look at Wu Xie, ignoring the so called threat in front of him home. “Come home quickly yeah?” Xiaoge nodded, pressing a soft kiss to Wu Xie’s palm.

Grumbling about lovesick fools, Pangzi gently moved Wu Xie through the door. Dimly, Wu Xie was aware of Xiao Hua pulling his husband into a short, fierce kiss hissing that the other man better come back in one piece or else. He allowed himself to be led out of the compound, ignoring the bodies, the blood-streaked walls. At one stage they came across Pan Zi fighting off three Wangs with nothing but his knife. Before Pangzi could help him, Pan Zi killed them, running to the small group to pull Wu Xie into a tight hug before stealing a gun from a body and returning to the fray. Pangzi and Xiao Hua led Wu Xie out of the building, fingers on triggers, ready to defend their friend. Neither man relaxed until they handed Wu Xie over to Erbai and Xiu Xiu. With that done the two returned to the compound, determined to make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the adrenaline wore off, Wu Xie passed out. He drifted in and out of consciousness, aware of people moving around him, tending to his wounds. At one stage, he could hear Erbai telling him to rest, that he was safe now and the Wangs would never hurt him again. At that, Wu Xie smiled, knowing that his family and friends would protect him.

Finally waking up properly, Wu Xie was quickly aware of two things. One, he was back in his small house beside the flower shop. And two, Xiaoge was asleep in the bed behind him, his arms wrapped tightly around Wu Xie’s waist. Moving back slightly, Wu Xie relaxed as he felt Xiaoge’s chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm lulling him back to sleep.

When he woke again a few hours later, Xiaoge was entering the bedroom, a tray of food in his hands. Noticing that the other man was awake, Xiaoge nodded at the tray. “Pangzi cooked for us. Everyone except for him, Xiao Hua and Heiye have gone home. I’ll message later to let them know you woke up.” Stretching, and wincing as his ribs twinged, Wu Xie moved to sit up, accepting the tray on his lap. Looking at it, he wasn’t surprised to see it full of his favourite foods. Resting against Xiaoge, he allowed himself to be fed. “The Wangs?” Xiaoge took his time answering, concentrating on tending to Wu Xie. “Won’t be a problem anymore. We wiped them out.”

Wu Xie hummed. He knew he should be more scared. His family and friends killed a lot of people, Xiaoge especially. Most people seeing their boyfriend covered in blood and with a blade literally dripping blood would run for the hills. But Wi Xie knew his friends and family. Knew that their job was dangerous and that to survive, you had to be dangerous as well. And if they killed a few people to protect Wu Xie, so what? If push came to shove, he knew he’d do the same.

With Xiaoge warm beside him, Pangzi and Heiye argue about opening the shop tomorrow in the kitchen, Xiao Hua laughing at them, Wu Xie felt safe for the first time since that Wang had punched him in the face in his café. And he knew that would do everything he had to do to protect that feeling.

[jui-imouto-chan]

Part 9

Previous | Next

@multishipper-trash

I switched to calling him Shoyo since everyone except Kageyama calls him that but I’ll probably go back to Hinata in a different part (also bc Natsu is technically a Hinata so)

•

“A letter!!” Natsu announced from the door, her feet slapping against the wood of the stairs as she made her way to Shoyo’s room. “Nii-chan!!

“Coming!”

Natsu bounced on her heels impateintly, listening to the rustle of Shoyo’s sheets. Shoyo yelped and then began hissing something she couldn’t quite make out, and then after a few minutes of relative quiet, Tobio and Shoyo shouted at each other before Tobio stormed out, barging past her without patting her head like usual. Natsu wondered if he had a fever, since his face was the color of steamed crab.

Huh, so did Shoyo. Maybe they were both sick?

“Nii-chan.” She proffered the letter, shifting her weight.

Shoyo shook his head, his flush lightening enough that it only stained his cheeks. “Thanks, Natsu,” he said, smiling as he ruffled her hair. She grinned up at him and turned on her heel, padding over to the kitchen to rattle off what she learned in school the day prior to their mom.

The letter Shoyo held was from the “Kenma” that had made a contract with him the month before, with a simple wax seal of a cat with headphones on. The envelope was crisp and pristine, although the penmanship of the address lines was constantly fluctuating between beautiful and scribbly.

Shoyo glanced around, making sure Kageyama wasn’t nearby, then retreated into his bedroom, ignoring the tangle of sheets that had collapsed to the floor during the earlier...incident... and instead settling into his desk.

‘Hello, Shoyo.

There’s more funding in the envelope inside the one you pulled this out from. Have fun with it, I guess.

I was wondering if you want to meet up with me at some point. I’ll leave my contact stuff at the bottom of this letter... Leave the scary guy you who follows you around at home please. I don’t want to get murdered.

Anyway. We can discuss the details for the date meet and greet when we meet up over text, if you want to actually do that.

Kenma.

XXX-XXX-XXXX’

Shoyo found the wad of bills and decided that he’d make sure ‘Kenma’ would let him pay for food and stuff for when they met up, guilt gnawing at him for taking charity. It wasn’t like he wasn’t giving anything for it, but he didn’t actually feel any difference in his mana supply—not that he could even actually tell that there was mana in him. Maybe the contracts just weren’t taking as much as he thought they would be? —Like everyone taking five yen when he has a billion yen: pretty much negligible. (—Thank you Tsukishima for using that word. Hinata just hoped he wouldn’t use it to describe his test score increases relative to his grade again.)

Shoyo snagged his phone off the nightstand (pointedly ignoring Kageyama’s beside it), tossing himself onto his mattress and kicking his feet as he sent a greeting.

•

Kuroo had himself draped over Kenma’s bed, scrolling idly through messages Lev sent to their groupchat and rolling his eyes. He glanced over at the partial-blonde, who was so close to the TV, Kuroo wondered if he’d eventually pass through the screen and actually enter the game.

Beside his head, Kenma’s phone flashed and pinged, and he’d never seen Kenma move so fast. The game was paused and Kenma was lain beside Kuroo in an instant, his eyes flicking across the screen with overwhelming intensity.

“Did a preorder drop or something?”

Kenma completely ignored him. Kuroo tried to quell his urge to annoy his best friend with dramatics.

The shorter spent five minutes reading whatever message he had received, probably rereading it multiple times if Kuroo were to go off the fact that Kenma hadn’t scrolled.

Finally, after an agonizing period of tense silence, Kenma’s thumbs got to work, typing and retyping words. Kenma mouthed the sentences and scrunched his nose periodically, probably noticing syntax errors.

It was a little bizarre, since Kenma didn’t usually care about what he wrote or how he wrote it. Kuroo once had to read the words “skin $100 said no moth,” with his own eyes, and the message still sometimes haunts him. (Kenma meant to type, “My mother said no to buying the $100 skin,” but didn’t correct himself afterward.)

“Do I add a ‘please’ when saying where to meet me or is that desperate?”

“Do you actually want my opinion or are you talking to yourself?”

Kuroo sighed as Kenma continued his pondering, muttering about lines from a few otome games. Kuroo leaned over and scanned the message, as neither of them had ever been particular about privacy, biting his lip to keep from laughing.

“Hey,” Kenma snapped, falling out of his deliberations. He rolled over and away, which led to him slipping to the floor.

Kuroo burst into cackles, only catching his breath after Kenma tossed a remote at his head. “W... Who’s got ya all riled u-up?” he tried to inquire, panting.

“None of your business.”

“Is ‘Shoyo’ a special friend I should know about?” Kuroo waggled his eyes, dodging an amiibo that sailed through the air and left a noticeable dent in Kenma’s wall.

“N-No.”

It was quite clear that Kuroo did not believe him one bit, his Hyena-like laughter rippling through the air. “You’re lying—your ears are red! Your blushing so hard!”

“Shut up!” Kenma hid under the covers at the foot of the bed, trying to look back at his phone. Kuroo, deciding that he was fine with dying there, poked at Kenma’s head, seeking amusement from teasing the half-blonde.

“Huh?” Kenma was stock-still, not even moving when Kuroo prodded at him. “Kenma, you okay? Are you dead?” The blankets were raised, Kuroo peering upside-down at his friend.

Dead seemed like an understatement—after all, at least then you would see the life draining out of the body. No, Kenma appeared as though his soul was sucked out with a vacuum and his body sat empty while his spirit struggled against the vacuum bag.

Kuroo snatched Kenma’s phone out of his hands, his friend not twitching or reacting at all. The only indication that Kenma was still existent was the slow paling of his skin.

“What’s got you so.... Oh. Well... Yep, that’ll do it.”

The last line of his message, which he probably was intending to delete—or at least rewrite—simply read, ‘I look forward to our date.’

•

“He won’t think that you wanted it to be a date if I come,” Kuroo explained as he shoved Kenma toward the cafe, still quite sympathetic of his poor friend’s pain. Kenma had his hood pulled up and kinda seemed tempted to drift into traffic, so Kuroo just kept a better hold of his shoulders as he drove him forward.

“Maybe he’ll take pity on me and stab me with a teaspoon.”

“Maybe you’ll be less morbid, how about that?”

“We both know that’s very unlikely.” Kenma managed to open the door before Kuroo flattened him against it.

“True,” he sighed. “So, you see him?”

Kenma glanced around, fingertips rubbing against his nails within his pockets as he sought out Shoyo.

After a moment of peering around, he spotted sunrise eyes and a mane of flame, as well as the scent of full, unfettered magic wafting through the air.

“There,” Kenma breathed as Kuroo straightened, eyes fixating on the summoner. Kuroo whistled to himself.

“I’m counting myself lucky that you’re not territorial.”

Kenma squinted at his best friend, though he let his withering glare fall exasperatedly. “I’m getting there.”

Kuroo’s smile grew with mischief. “Too late.” His tongue slipped across his upper lip.

Across the cafe, Shoyo shivered, glancing around and catching their predatory gazes. Unlike prey, his eyes didn’t waver, and their excitement only grew.

•••

••Part 9 of (?)••

This got a little longer than usual—I got carried away bc I love writing disaster Kenma 😂 and also Natsu is super adorable so I’m including her more 💖💖

•• Send Asks for more! Feel free to ask about characters and send Headcanons! Or if u wanna just talk Haikyuu/ships, I’m good with that too! :) and for other parts, search the “summoner au” tag on my blog and you’ll find em!••

Previous | Next 

[seven-oomen]

Please talk about Noah! Your takes are super interesting and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this!

(hope you're having a nice day!)

Alright then strap in! Because I am about to tell you why I think Noah Stilinski is;

A. Bisexual

B. Has the inattentive type of ADHD

Let’s begin!

First off, I think Noah Stilinksi is a bisexual man who has a preference for feminine presenting people. (As one would typically see women dress/appear in western society.) I don’t particularly have evidence for this, I tried scouring S3 to find clues of it, but honestly, I think this is just one of those, I headcanon it and therefore to me, it is true. If you have a different opinion, then awesome, you do you. 

I mean there are some looks between him and Chris Argent that can be interpreted as interested, but you’d have to look very closely. For now, it’s just one of those things, to me it’s like that, and I have fun with it.

Like father, like son right? Except Stiles would be more on the 50/50 scale of bisexuality where I think Noah is more on the 70/30 scale leaning towards feminine people.

As for his ADHD, I did find a lot of clues and tidbits there, so: 

Notice how the sheriff is frequently standing with his arms crossed as if he’s either trying to protect himself (trauma-based) or trying to keep himself from moving too much (ADHD based). This would also explain why the sheriff is often seen standing too still. He also tends to talk with his hands, which is another thing a lot of ADHD people have in common. Though to be fair a lot of NT people do this too.

However here in 3x01 we see the sheriff fully focused on this person while they’re trying to work something out.

Then the next second, Melissa enters the hallway and Noah’s undivided attention is suddenly on her, he barely remembers to utter out an excuse me before addressing Melissa. And he does it as if every neuron in his brain is suddenly focused on her. “Oh hey, Melissa!” 

*Brain switch. Undivided attention is now on Melissa.*

This is a form of hyper-focusing, and if you’ve been trained from a young age you do this while making it look NT-passing. You mask it. I do this. People with ADHD-C or ADHD-I that have a basis in trauma tend to this in my experience.

Like Stiles tends to do, the sheriff too, is moving around fidgeting in the blurry background. He’s talking faster than he can process which is picked up on by his stutters. While he’s trying to figure out a resolution to this conflict. 

You can also tell that there might be some RSD at play here due to the fact that he seems very keen to keep the peace in the scene and wants everyone to get along and let’s keep everyone around me chill. This may not seem like a stereotypical ADHD thing to do, but it’s very common in ADHD-I types.

In the scene with Deaton that he shares in this episode, as well as numerous scenes with Stiles and other characters. You can always see him thinking, you can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to make connections and tries to focus on what lies ahead of him and what people are saying to him. 

Sometimes he successfully succeeds in listening and processing. You see this by his frowns, little head movements. But as soon as those arms cross or his frown deepens you can tell someone is trying to flip the switch, but the light’s not turning on. The information isn’t being processed by his brain. He’s trying to defend himself.

Again, this is a typical thing for someone with ADHD-I who’s been trained and has had extensive therapy to cope with his symptoms. For a while and for general conversations/problems, you are capable of holding the thread. When things get complicated, that’s when you start to see the thread unraveling in Noah’s head.

In 3x02 there’s a moment of impatience as he wakes the boys up but also clearly a look on his face that says a few things.

1. Omg Stiles has done it again.

2. Look at the state of this room where do I even begin? I don’t know, so I just won’t bother.

3. Oh no I have absolutely been here and now I have to deal with my son being in this state too.

So he does the most logical thing to him, he doesn’t deal with it. Just his executive dysfunction going off and thinking; nope I’m not dealing with this, I need to get work, I don’t have time to sit down (hence the mug in his hands.) Man is probably running late already and only now waking the boys up because he realizes they’re A. still in his house. And B. not off to school yet and he needs to get going too.

He has a moment like this in multiple episodes where his impatience and incapability of dealing with a situation in front of him causes him to physically drag Stiles away and using too much force to do it. Though judging by Stiles’s reactions, and the way he relaxes after being grabbed, the sheriff seems to realize how hard he is grabbing and eases up every single time.

And that seems like a little detail, but not knowing your own strength is also a thing that can correspond with ADHD. (Though it can occur in NT people and other conditions as well. Or generally, be caused by anger.) But for the sake of this essay or meta, I will attribute it to Noah having ADHD.

In 3x09 Stiles finally clues him in on what’s happening in Beacon Hills and we can clearly see that he’s struggling to process everything. One could attribute that purely to; 

1. Noah is trying to come to terms that supernatural creatures are real and this would be a lot for anyone to process. Which is a fair and a totally valid assumption.

2. However, we see signs of Noah already starting to believe something is up from the very beginning. There’s always been a side to the sheriff where he was willing to believe or give people the benefit of the doubt when it came to the supernatural. Like in 3x03 when he tells his deputy: “She saw something.”

This leads me to believe that the real matter at hand is that Noah simply can’t process all that information at that time and he needs a few days to think it over in order to do so. Which could be a sign of a processing problem due to ADHD. (Although as I have pointed out, it could also be interpreted as an NT just getting a lot of crazy information at once. Take it as you will.)

In 3x07 Stiles and Scott argue over whether or not to tell Noah what’s going on with the sacrifices. Stiles points out that they shouldn’t because his father is completely overwhelmed.

This can be attributed to several things and interpreted in different ways. Let’s lay down the most obvious one; the sheriff has no idea what’s going on, he has the FBI on his case, and multiple murders on his hands and essentially a serial killer. All of these on their own are enough to be overwhelmed by, yes.

I choose to interpret it as a combination of all of these factors combined with an inability to process this much information or information in general. Which is another symptom of ADHD-I.

We also hear him frequently telling Stiles and the other kids to ‘go home, get to class, go to school.’ Basically what he’s doing in moments like this is 1. looking out for them. 2. Unable to cope and process with all the information he’s been giving during that time and instead of lashing out at the kids, he tries a coping mechanism that’s called divert or redirect. Where you try to redirect people/thoughts/object into a direction or thought process that’s far more manageable to you. 

Which is something that I’ve been taught to do myself in therapy. And that is why I think it’s something Noah has been taught to do as well. Either in the Army/Police Academy. or during therapy sessions.

Now, this is what I like to call Noah’s; I’m trying to process what you’re trying to tell me face. And so far, I’m keeping up. You see the pursed lips, the frown on his face, the slightly squinted eyes. He’s focusing on what Stiles is trying to tell him.

Here he is looking away for a second, processing, trying to manage information. We see him frown further, his lip tensing further, he has to try harder.

He’s processing, processing, he blinks. And then this is the face he pulls right after the blink.

The frown has deepened, he's still following Stiles for now but you can see he’s starting to lose the train of thought here.

Stiles keeps explaining, pulls out the chessboard to explain what is going on.

And Noah has completely lost his train of thought. He has no idea what Stiles is saying to him anymore and no way to process all of the information that Stiles is giving him after this moment. He gets impatient, is annoyed at the things Stiles is telling him. That is because he’s emotionally, and physically overwhelmed. 

He deals with a lot of things in his job and he always seems utterly exhausted because of it. I think that is because his job is exhausting. But I also think it has to do with Noah not being able to filter sounds, stimuli, the inability to process things like an NT. I think Noah suffers from a high level of empathy, this combined with sensory processing issues results in someone who’s constantly trying to filter them out and failing. Resulting in chronic fatigue, turning to other means of dealing (Alcoholism), impatience, etc.

He also seems to have trouble regulating his emotions, as we see with his frequent snaps and jabs at Stiles but he also seems to try and be better about it and regret it when he does snap. We also know that in order to numb his pain and his emotions Noah turned to Alcohol to cope, as sad as it is, this is common in people with ADHD. Who often turn to substances to cope with their symptoms and their inability to regulate themselves, anything to numb all the feelings and their own shortcomings. Noah seems to have fallen into that trap too.

-

I think my favorite moment in this scene comes right after with this face:

And the question of; “Why is Jackson the Kanima?”

Which tells me a few things.

1. After everything, that’s the first question he truly asks as he leans back and tries to process things.

2. This may point to an inability to prioritize tasks/thoughts, which is another symptom of ADHD-I. Which for Noah seems to occur when he’s not on the job or with people he trusts and doesn’t have to mask for. (He does this too when he asks Derek at the station; “But if he doesn’t have a mouth, how does he eat?”) Suggesting that this is a more regular occurrence than we see on the show.

And at this point, I can no longer concentrate on this since I’ve lost my hyper-focus. But I think I managed to compile a pretty decent list.

And that is why I think Noah Stilinski is Bisexual and has ADHD.

Tagging: @mostly-vo1d and @artemisa97 since they are usually involved in these things too. You don’t have to respond of course, but if you feel up to it, join in.

[curse-me-like-you-mean-it]

Pairing: Reader/Gojo Fic

Warnings: Alcohol, Betting

A/N: Here's what's been in my brain rot for MONTHS. This will be a long fic with multiple chapters. Banner by @pastelbear12.

Chapter 1: The Bet

Flickering lights twinkled off the bussed bar top. Loud 80’s music pounded over an old speaker in the corner. A dusty glimmer held over the people that came to seek refuge from their own lives. Most people came for the terrible drinks and to forget the week they’d had. Some came to find solace in their loneliness with company of those as lonely as themselves. A pair of sorcerers found themselves at the same bar as so many others.

Gojo leaned back against the tattered booth seat as if to stretch out his back. “Nanami, you’re looking rather tense. You should really down a few more drinks.”

The blonde moved his glasses back in place as the continual scowl refused to drop from his face. “I’m not going to do that.” Nanami held the whisky glass against his pursed lips. He’s been nursing the same drink for the past hour. Gojo had been late even though he’d made the time. “I’m going to have to be the one to take your drunk ass home.”

Gojo scoffed while finishing the last of his own drink. The bottle hit the table with a distinct smack of glass. “You’ve only done that twice.”

“A week,” Nanami sighs. “We had switch bars last week because of you.”

“Now I don’t remember that.” Gojo’s cocky grin didn’t leave his face as he slid out of the bar seat. “I’m going to get you another drink. You’re going to have fun.” The white haired sorcerer wasn’t about to hear any of his counterpart’s interjections.

He walked up to the bar while making sure to bump into a few of the obvious first dates or awkward men preying on women. His excuses were all false. He enjoyed the simple fact people were paying attention to him. Sometimes, he’d use the fact he was wearing a blindfold to make the people he’d run into feel bad about their exclamations in anger.

Gojo pushed past one girl that was sitting at the bar by herself. “Sorry, blindfold,” said Gojo while intentionally leaning in closer and pointing to the thin wrapping on his face. He took this opportunity to dramatically wave down the bartender at the other end of the bar.

The girl scoffed while sipping her own drink. “How can you even see the bartender?” Her comment pricked the edges of Gojo’s ears although no one would know but him. He paused for a moment before going back to waving down the bartender.

Satoru ignored the disgruntled sigh of the overworked bartender. “I’d want a sex on the beach for my friend-” he started. The white haired sorcerer took a moment to look at the drink the girl was sipping before finishing his order. “-I’ll also take whatever she’s drinking.”

She clicked her tongue before taking a few sips of her drink. “Give another one of mine too to save you a trip.”

“Awe don’t want to try sex on the beach?” Gojo questioned the girl. Nothing truly struck out to him beyond her lack of acknowledgement of the sorcerer’s presence.

“Have. Not worth it,” she spits back. “Sand gets everywhere.”

“I was talking about the drink.”

“No you weren’t.” There was no hesitation with her voice. She knew the connotation of the man in front of her. Before Gojo could respond, the bartender came back with their three drinks. She took her drink and sipped the top before nodding at the bartender. “Thank you.”

Satoru decided it would be better to regroup with Nanami to see if she was from a sister school or from some other sector of sorcerer. There was no other explanation than she already knew who he was.

“Gojo, do you really think I would drink this fruity shit?” asked Nanami as he looked at the bright blue drink set in front of him.

“That girl knew I could see,” said Gojo, completely ignoring the complaints. While taking a seat, he takes a look at her one more time. He didn’t know if it was to study her or to remember her face. Either way, he wanted to not forget her appearance.

“You were being very-”

“I wonder if she’s a sorcerer. Do we know any sorcerers like her-?”

“-obvious. Anyone can see that you’re running into people on purpose.”

“Was she at a sister school?”

“We’re having two different conversations,” said Nanami. “You could go ask her.” Nanami took a swig of the last of his whiskey. “I don’t remember anyone looking like her at the Kyoto school.” The blonde looked at the fruity cocktail with trepidation and questioned if the alcohol was worth the drink.

Gojo leans his elbows on the table and crosses his hand. “Hey Nanami~” His voice pitched in a sing-song tone. “I think I found a way to make you a little less lonely.” This is when the sorcerer decided that it would be better to drink than deal with whatever proposal Gojo would have.

“I’m not participating.”

“I haven’t even told you about it yet,” whines Satoru. “You need to get laid. Maybe it’ll fix your-”

“I’m going to ignore that,” said Nanami. Each time his counterpart opened his mouth, he took another sip of the blue alcohol. “I’m not lonely. We do not have time for relationships.”

“We’re not talking about relationships. A one night stand.” Gojo held out a single finger as if to emphasize his point. “If you can get her to come home with you-”

“No”

“I’ll pay for your retirement entirely.”

“You don’t have that much money.” However, his tone betrayed his words. Kento had the time to think. Would he wave his morals to take a random girl home?

Gojo moved his blindfold down a little to look at the sorcerer with at least one of his eyes. “You know I have enough. All yours for the low, low price of having fun. You in?

“We’re not bothering that girl,” said Nanami while adjusting his tie so it wasn’t as tight against his throat. He’d made up his mind after taking another look at the girl. It wasn’t worth playing Satoru's games.

“You’re just scared,” said Gojo. The same singsong tone entered his voice as before. He pulled up the blindfold. “If you need someone to show you how it’s done, you could have asked.”

That’s not-” he started to stay but was cut off. Gojo snuck out of the booth once again. “I’ll show you how it's done.”

Nanami couldn’t decide to either watch the trainwreck or hide his face in shame. After taking a few drinks of the alcohol filled blue liquid, he decided to watch.

Gojo took this opportunity to walk up to the same girl. She spent the majority of her time nursing a drink at the bar. The sorcerer hadn’t decided if she was lost in thought or needed a sweet release for the night. Rather than figure it out, he took a seat next to her. “What is your opinion of magic?”

The girl rubbed at her forehead without looking towards Gojo. “If this is some sort of pick up line, then I’m not that interested.” The blindfolded man hummed while leaning forward in his chair. He wanted to get a good look at her. See if she actually was someone he knew.

Weirdly enough, her face didn’t seem that familiar. “Not a fan of magic tricks? What about white haired, blue eyed men?” He leaned on one of his arms so that his elbow rested on the bar.

She scoffs before pushing her drink away. “So that’s who you are. Part of the Gojo family.”

Satoru involuntarily flexed his fingers under the bar and tongue rubs against the roof of his mouth. “And if I am? Does that change your mind?”

“Not really,” says the girl before nudging her purse onto her shoulder. “Dave, I’ll get you next week.” The bartender acknowledged her gesture before she got out of her seat. “Do you need anything?”

Gojo plunged out his tongue to wet his dry lips. He took in the fully standing image of the girl in front of him. “Not unless you need a sorcerer to walk you home. Tokyo is a dangerous place.”

She shook her head and fixed the shirt that scrunched up around her midsection. “I can handle myself. Unless you need one to walk you home.”

“You are a sorcerer then?”

“And what if I am?” She was using his words against him. The man chuckled. This feeling was not normally known within him. Most people who knew of the Gojo name would throw themselves at the opportunity to fight him or get into his pants. He’d be lying if he hadn’t used that name to find himself in random girls’ beds.

Neither of them exchanged any more words as the girl walked out of the bar. Both Nanami and Gojo followed her figure as she walked out of the door. Little did they know that the bet was only about to start.

Masterlist

Wanna Be Tagged? Message Me

@aly-kurta

[themagicalmysticalboy]

Hi. Can I request hurt!John story? I thought it could be based on his car accident in 1969 but let's change some details of it - he was driving alone and ended up seriously injured. You can begin with Paul and the others arriving to the hospital after receiving the news... or whatever you choose 😉. So angsty story with some mclennon (but not necessarily; they can be just friends).

a/n: the thought of writing yoko has kept me from ever writing this request. But imma write it and pretend she doesn’t exist 😜. also I have no self control so this story goes through a lot more than just Paul showing up at the hospital hehehe

Nobody has to guess that baby can't be blessed/‘Til he finally sees that he's like all the rest/ With his fog, his amphetamine, and his pearls

He Breaks Just Like a Little Boy

John had thought himself rather fond of Scotland. He had visited many times before for pleasant vacations and stops to meet family. But in all these years and through all his visits he had never actually driven its roads, having the luxury of a driver. On his solo trip, he remembered exactly why his arrangements were as such.

The sky was dripping with fog that crept down from the foothills, reaching out with thick claws that effortlessly encapsulated the road. The small apertures between the paws of fog were filled with mist that left sheens of dew across the windshield. With his wipers going at a steady metronome's pace he flipped between high and low beams, unsure which way was worse. Mimi had surely told him the correct answer but his nerves and general troubles with driving had him dumbfounded. 

The road ahead appeared completely deserted so he had no concerns with continuing to flip back and forth. The distraction of the lights left room for error in the ways of speed. He was pushing 20 over the determined limit. In these conditions the absence of a speedometer, or in the event of ignoring one, it was impossible to determine how fast the world outside was passing by. John kept at his pace, even when he had settled to keep his lights on low beams.

In his vain attempt to see more than two meters ahead, he hunched forward with squinting eyes and tense muscles. Music was playing at an almost unperceivable volume, turned down multiple times over the course of the descent into fog.

Entering another aperture of mist, he relaxed, letting himself blink properly and his fingers release from their bleached white grip on the steering wheel. Once his eyes had opened again, a set of disembodied lights sent him rigid. His senses were set on blast: eyes wide open and bursting with color, the taste of copper coating his mouth, the smell of his leather interior and cigarettes somehow amplified. The intense sensations did nothing to harbor a coherent plan.

He reacted on gut instinct as the lights were backed by the shape of a car. Horn blaring, he jerked the wheel to the side. It was almost instantaneous that his stomach jumped to his throat, body leaving the seat to press harshly into the seatbelt. He was a feather made of lead.

**

In the late hours of the morning, Paul finished readying himself for a trip into town. He grabbed up his keys and wallet and made for the door. Before his escape could be made, the phone rang. He lowered his lids and shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to decide if he should answer it. With a resigned roll of the eyes, he jogged to the phone. 

The words that came through the line left no room for pleasantries, throwing blades that sliced through his reality and let it drain from around him. Pressure built against his skin with each sentence, heart pounding through his limbs.

His voice was void of emotion when he asked, “Have you told the others?”

“You’re the first I’ve called,” Cynthia replied. Cynthia. That's who was talking. Paul had not even processed her voice.

“Okay.”

He hung up, one arm left limp at his side as he gnawled at his fingernail. The world was not coming back to him. It had bled out and left him stranded, unable to move or react. Echoes of what Cynthia had said reverberated off the walls and assaulted his ears.

“... an accident… He’s in surgery… They don’t know if…if…”

Everything ushered back into color like a punch to the gut, leaving him stumbling into actuality. He fell into a chair and caught his breath.

 He had to get to him. He had to leave.

Rushing back to the phone, he threw together the fastest trip to Durness humanly possible. The trip, though only an hour and change by plane, was excruciating. Void of distraction, or want of, Paul was shedding strings of sanity like a dog’s winter coat. Nothing was fast enough until it suddenly was all too quick.

Once in the last leg of his journey, a small taxi cab, he began to dread the thought of arriving. Though still a few miles away, the antiseptic smell of the hospital was already pungent in his nose. The cramped waiting spaces and grim reality would tug and drag on his psyche. 

And he was not proven wrong. He had arrived first but it wasn’t long before George and Ringo filed in. They all shared anxious glances upon entering the private room they were ushered to but didn’t speak a word.

George ended up slumped in a seat, head in hands, as Paul stood and tapped his foot, his mind still shifting in and out of focus. It was Ritchie that had broken the eerie stillness. He was biting down hard on his lip, pacing the room. As if he had just realized the other two existed, he jumped when his path crossed Paul’s.

Paul’s eyes were dead in their sockets but Ritch’s pinged over his face with something desperate that made Paul want to conjure a sort of reassurance. He fell severely short, only able to muster a thin lipped hint of empathy.

George came in for the save. Paul, too engrossed in his own turmoil, barely noticed him getting up and moving towards them. He took Ringo into a tight hug that was warmly reciprocated. They both breathed in one another before breaking. He patted Rich on the shoulder then turned to Paul.

He hadn’t the heart to tell his friend he’d rather be left alone and was consequently enveloped into his arms. And maybe it was for the best he had not stopped him. Something calming and familiar shallowed a hole in his heart. George’s ever-comforting presence should never be put to question. He hugged George back with a grim intensity that surprised himself. It cracked a dam but did not break it.

“Don’t lose hope.” With that the hug was broken, leaving Paul with a warm heart and cold body.

In time, they all sat together on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, backs to the wall. Coffee cups and ashtrays were all around. The TV that sent extra illumination to the room was widely ignored, set at a low volume. At some point, a doctor had come in to update them. John was under close watch but out of surgery. It hadn’t done much to put anyone at ease but it drove in the hope George was keen to stoke. 

So they kept at their quiet conversations and heavy silences. The atmosphere was so odd. No one was bringing up the band dissolving. No one was arguing. Instead, a rather blissful suffering blanketed the room. At an excruciating crawl, night was arriving, the sky drifting from blue to inky black. 

Everyone was growing tired from their adrenaline crash, staring at nothing with half lidded eyes. Ringo had taken the plunge and was asleep on Paul’s shoulder. Paul’s arm was wrapped around George and George was slumped back to stare at the ceiling.

With a steady knock at the door, they were startled back to life. As the doctor came in, the three rose to their feet with varying speed.

“Good evening-”

“He’s alright, yeah? Can we see him?”

“We’ll get there, Mr. Harrison.” The doctor collected himself and looked over a messy chart. “Mr. Lennon is recovering as expected. I can’t go into detail, seeing as you aren’t blood, but his injuries were less serious than we first thought.” He looked up at the trio. “He’s asking for visitors in the morning. Have you any idea of relatives arriving?”

“His aunt, at the very least. I’d assume his son and ex-wife as well,” Paul answered cordially.

“I’ll let him know, then. Now, if you wish, you may sleep here. Blankets and pillows can be gathered. But there is a hotel only a mile away.”

They looked between one another and came to a silent agreement. “We’ll stay.” The luxury of comfort would gladly be dispensed of.

Sleeping in the cold and bare room sent Paul back in time. He felt 18 again, sleeping in a backroom in Germany with George nearby and Ringo in the place of John. At least he’d been able to sleep easier then- full of beer and dead tired from performing. Now, it took a long time but sleep finally crept into his eyes.

Though Paul was the last to sleep, he was also the first to wake. He gathered coffee and fresh carts of cigarettes before George or Ringo so much as stretched. As he waited for them to wake, he watched the news. At the moment, the camera was pointed to frame an audience gathered with candles and signs. All with well wishes to John scribbled and painted across them. 

“Have we traveled back to ‘63?” Ringo’s voice was full of sleep as he pulled himself off the floor.

Paul was glad to learn he was not the only one feeling the blast from the past. With a nod of acknowledgment, he poured Ringo a cup of coffee from the side table. Leaning back in his seat, he handed him the cup. Ringo pulled a cigarette from his pocket before taking it and mumbled a “Ta.”

It wasn’t long before George woke as well, leaving them staring at the TV that switched between actual news and coverage of the crowd outside.

“Think John’s enjoying this?”

“Think? I know. Deserves the treat of it, anyroad.” Paul huffed.

“We’ll find him off his head with pain meds waving from the window if he’s left alone too long.”

“Flashing the crowd with the backless gown on his way to bed.”

Lifting their spirits with some senseless banter, the wait for their turn to see John was less dreadful. Any bittersweetness, though, drained from Paul’s being when it came time to actually see John. Much like the journey to the hospital, the tail end of his wait for John was coming all too quickly.

They were filed out of the small room and his heart was fading with every step. It did not want to leave the strange safety of the room and Paul could not blame it. It was set and done and nothing dangerous happened. Now he was ushered into a terribly galvanizing and risky endeavor of a fresh space and unknown circumstances. As the door came to view, his heart fast tracked to full opacity and shot into his throat.

George and Ringo looked so painfully normal in comparison to how Paul felt. Surely all they were thinking of was how happy they were to see John. Not how scary it might be to see him broken. Not how one word could fuck everything up. 

The desire to pivot on the spot and run was shamefully present when the doctor held the door for them. Paul was last in line and heard the cheery greeting from Ringo before so much as seeing the foot of the bed. 

His eyes darted down to stare at George’s heels as he entered the threshold, following their path until he found a seat. Paul meandered in, jumping when the door shut behind him. He stopped in his tracks. 

“Glad the guests could finally be bothered to gather. Now the party can really start.”

With the sound of John’s voice pulling at his chest, Paul finally looked up to find him staring directly at him. He was right there, covered in scratches and bandages. There was a cast on his arm, a bruise over his eye, and a large swath of gauze peeking from the neck of his gown. His face was blushed with color, nonetheless, looking as alive as ever. When he truly looked at John he found himself wanting to cry. Why? He couldn’t have explained it to anyone but he knew the feeling swirling inside. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and gave a thin lipped smile.

“Think you’ve done enough partying without us,” Ringo said while he sat at the only other seat in the room, leaning an elbow on the bed. A smile was splashed across his face.

George leaned back pleasantly. “This is why I never let you touch my car, you know.”

John huffed. “I don’t think I’ll be touching a steering wheel ever again.”

The words were all lost on Paul. He couldn’t stop staring into John’s eyes until he finally broke contact to speak with George. Feeling uneasy in the center of the room, Paul moved to the wall, looking John up and down until he’d memorized every cut and bruise. His fingers were filled with pulsing blood, the sensation gathering up his arms as the moments passed.

No one looked at him or asked him anything. He was just a fly on the wall, chewing on his nail. So there was no warning when George and Ringo stood up. Paul jolted back to reality and stood up straight, ready to follow them out.

“Can you stay?”

”Hmm?” Blinking wildly, Paul noticed John was speaking to him.

“We’ll be back in the prison cell,” Ringo quipped before shutting the door on them.

The urge to sob spiked again. He gulped down the lump in his throat and let out a shaky breath. “Hi.”

“I look that ghastly, do I?”

Paul stared at his awkwardly shuffling feet and offered a breathy laugh. “No.” His voice cracked with the single word and burning tears sent pins into his eyes. Something in the moment sent his dam crumbling down.

Alone with John, he found absolutely no reason to hold back. So he didn’t bother. Fully absorbed by his presents, he took long strides to the now empty seat, falling into it. Without losing John’s gaze, he gently took his hand, feeling the rough cuts as he rubbed circles over the back.

Tears tracked down his face. His lip quivered. His heart brimmed full like a tidal wave crashing to shore.

“Hi,” he said again, this time with a voice damp with dejection. He sniffled with a painful smile stretching the corners of his mouth, threatening to rip from the center. He reached out to brush John’s hair from his face with a shaking hand. “You scared me, y’know?”

John pulled his hand away and Paul could feel the tidal wave retreating. He sucked in an aching breath. Rejection.

It all came back, though, when John held the side of his face, losing his fingers in Paul’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

With a fickle laugh, Paul nuzzled his head closer to John’s hand. “Don’t apologize- not for that.”

John’s head tilted as he pet Paul’s hair. “‘Bout thought you didn’t want me any longer. Seeing me all banged up and bruised. And that stare of yours. That should be categorized as some sort of weapon.”

A soft cry, that was supposed to be a laugh, rose from his throat. He leaned forward, hovering over the seat, and gently kissed John’s chapped lips. John fully reciprocated, fingers gripping his hair ever so slightly.

When they parted, poignantly slow, Paul swung his legs into the seat so he could comfortably rest his head on John’s shoulder. “I don’t think I can ever stop wanting you.” His fingers ghosted circles over John’s heart. With a concerted effort, he tried to be as gentle as possible with his battered lover.

They sat in sweet silence as John burrowed his cheek into the top of Paul’s head.

“Really though, was it that scary? Seeing me like this? You didn’t even speak when the other lads were in.”

More tears were threatening to close Paul’s throat. He gripped John’s blanket. “I thought I was scared to see you. But I don’t think I was. I was scared of myself more, y’know?”

“Can’t say I do.”

Paul pulled the blanket up to his chin. “I was afraid of messing up. I just blanked when I saw you hurt like this. I’ve never- I just want to do... New things. New things are scary.”

John rubbed his shoulder blade, soothing him to loosen up on the blanket. “And look at us now! Crying like babies all over each other.” John’s had traveled down to Paul’s bicep. “Guess we were both scared.”

“God. This wasn’t even the scariest bit- not by far. Getting that damned phone call. Thought the world was falling out from underneath me.”

John was kneading at Paul’s skin. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I thought I was never going to see you again,” He confessed. “Soon as the car went off the ledge, I could only see you and Julian in my head.” His voice was gruff and strained, muffled by Paul’s hair.

“It feels unreal, almost. After all this. Both of us in this room. Both alive. Lennon and McCartney, the dream team- or whatever bullocks.”

Paul felt the rumble of laughter in John’s chest and more tears poured out of him. He glanced down and noticed he was soaking the thin fabric of the gown. He almost felt bad but suspected that John’s tears were dampening his hair. Fairtrade.

“Yeah. Whatever bullocks.”

They quieted for a brief moment before Paul adjusted himself to be closer to John. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No.” A kiss graced the top of his head. “Can’t feel much with these painkillers, really. Besides, my shoulder’s not my biggest issue.”

Paul hummed curiously. 

“Go this real groovy gash down my chest,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue as he coaxed Paul off his shoulder to pull up the neck of his gown. “Here.”

A trail of gauze led down his chest and to his stomach, which was completely wrapped with the stuff. Paul wiped away his tears and peered a little further down. His brow raised and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Aye. At least your willy made it out in full form.”

“Off it,” John dragged out the words like a warning, pressing the patterned fabric to his chest. “Horn dog.”

Paul only giggled, pressing his lips to John’s again. John sighed into it before guiding Paul’s head back to his shoulder, fingers running through his hair.

Betrayed by his own mind, Paul thought back to that meeting. I want a divorce. He pulled in a harsh breath. They had drifted that day, so far from one another. Building it back had been painstaking and soul crushing. “I’ll never let you lose me again.”

“Really, now?”

“Yes.” His tone was serious. “You’re not allowed. Whether or not we’re cross with each other, we won’t lose one another, alright?”

John hummed into his hair. “Sounds fine to me.”