#and I know a four hour drive isn’t gonna help that……

[lesbiansanemi]

I was going to try and type out how I’m feeling today cuz it’s decidedly not very good though not nearly as bad as it was a couple weeks ago but I’m giving up I think I just wanna lay face down in the floor

[robbysreaders]

i needed to write something outside of the series i've been doing recently and this just tumbled out of me. I worry Jack is a little ooc here but guess what! idc! ;)

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

word count: 700ish

You keep a similar schedule to Jack. Well—not exactly. That would be a bit nuts. But you are a night owl, which is why it’s not the least bit surprising when your phone buzzes with his name at 1 a.m. And why you don’t hesitate to pick up.

“An actual booty call? How retro.” “Hiiiiiiii,” he drags out, cutting you off mid-sentence. There’s a smile tucked into every syllable, the kind that always makes you feel like he’s happy you answered. You catch the faintest slur in his words.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” you ask, laughing. “Heeyyyyy, I’m being good. I’m being soooocial. I’m bonding with my coworkers. I thought you’d be proud of me, not judging me.” “I could never judge you, Jack. If anything, I’m jealous of you. Or maybe just your coworkers…” “I would like to see you. But also, I can’t take my truck…”

“You can come over,” you offer. “I’ll call you an Uber?” “Welllllll that’s the other thing. I don’t wanna get towed… and we’re near your place. So I could walk to you, and then we walk back, and you drive my truck.”

You hear a voice in the background—Robby, you think—grumble, “You don’t even let me drive your car.”

“Jack, this is a lot of logistics for 1 a.m.” You rub your eyes. “Drop me a pin. I’ll walk to you and we’ll figure it out.” “Baaaby, you know I don’t know how to do that sober, much less in this state. And you’re not walking alone.” “Okay, compromise: you text me the name of the bar and we stay on the phone.” He sighs. “Fiiiiiine.”

Four blocks later, you step into a packed bar to the sound of cheers. Way more of Jack’s coworkers than you expected. You would’ve changed out of your sweats if you’d known. But then Jack spots you, and his whole face lights up like you’re the damn sunrise. He wraps his arms around you like he’s been waiting all night.

“Let’s get a drink for the lady!” someone yells. You wave them off. “I’m gonna have to pass. I have work in six hours, so I’m just here to get this drunkard home. Anyone else need a ride?” A chorus of playful boos goes up before Jack cuts them off with a single look. “Alright, call your Ubers. Be safe.”

You leave together, and he steers you two blocks toward your apartment—where his truck is parked.

“For a man who spent an ungodly amount of time in school,” you say, “you might be the dumbest person I know.”

He opens the driver’s side door for you. “What’d I do this time?” “We’re two blocks from my apartment. You could’ve parked in my guest spot. There’s always room.” “I didn’t want to assume,” he says, suppressing a hiccup. You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

You climb into the truck, and he shuts the door behind you with exaggerated care. He fumbles his way around to the passenger side and climbs in, sighing loudly as he slumps into the seat.

It smells like him in here—clean and faintly smoky, like laundry detergent and cedar and something a little spicy that lingers in the upholstery. You reach over and buckle his seatbelt for him because he’s too busy humming along to whatever classic rock station is playing low from the speakers.

“You’re so helpful,” he says, leaning his head against the window dramatically. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No,” you agree, starting the truck. “You don’t.”

You drive the two blocks mostly in silence, save for Jack softly singing along to the guitar solo. When you pull into your building’s guest spot, he doesn’t move to get out. Just turns toward you, slow and heavy-lidded.

“You look really pretty,” he says. “Like… offensively pretty.”

“Okay, now I know you’re drunk.”

“I’m serious.” He leans his head back against the seat and sighs. “I was watching the door all night. Every time it opened I thought—maybe that’s her. You didn’t even know where we were or that I was out but I was hoping. Isn’t that dumb?”

You glance at him. He’s half-asleep already, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.

“No,” you say quietly. “It’s not dumb.”

You sit there for another minute, the engine ticking as it cools. Then you shake his arm gently.

“C’mon. Let’s get you upstairs.”

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift - Part 7 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: swearing, teasing, lots of flirting, definitely some fluff, mild sexual tension, some drinking A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR WAITING. I have been working hard on this and it is the longest chapter I've ever written. Things are finally happening between Yoongi and reader and I'm really excited for what's next. I have updated the tag list and if I forget anyone? Please let me know. ENJOY :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 7

The morning of the couch retrieval is chaotic. 

For one, your building elevator stops working and is under maintenance. Of course. So, this means you’ll have to take your old couch down the stairs and the new one up the stairs. Not ideal, but manageable. 

Two, the girls have woken up later than intended, which isn’t the worst thing to happen. Yoongi’s friends Jungkook and Hoseok are also late. His text definitely made it sound like they had drunk too much the day before. 

And three, your stomach is shambles. When you all discussed the plans for that day, it was agreed that Yoongi and yourself would be going to get the couch in the van. Jungkook and Hoseok will go along with you in Hoseok’s car, to help you load it in the van and return ahead to help Eunji and Hwayoung bring the old couch down since you’d have to drive slower. 

Oh, and yes, reason four why the morning was chaotic? No one wanted to bring the couch down the night before so it has to get done today. 

You are absolutely going stir crazy with the fact that you’re going to be in a car with Yoongi alone for at least two hours. The two of you have been texting even more than the usual, and even flirting too. And you have been looking forward to this day since he offered to help but now that it’s here, you wonder if you’ll be able to survive the stress of it all.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, grabbing it and smiling at none other than Yoongi’s text.

Yoongi [8:49 AM]: Even though we’re leaving later than we wanted…

Yoongi [8:49 AM]: It’s still too early (sad face emoji)

You [8:50 AM]: Have I said how happy and grateful I am? (smiling face emoji)

He reads the message but doesn’t answer. 

You hear the doorbell, running out of your bedroom to the door as you press the call button, “Hello?”

“It’s me. I’m downstairs.” Yoongi.

You smile brightly, something he can probably hear in your voice, “I’ll be right there!” You run to grab your bag, Eunji and Hwayoung watching you with glee as you yell out, “I’ll see you guys later! Meet us downstairs!”

You hurry down like your life depends on it, smiling ear to ear as you slow down on the last flight of stairs. You look up to see him on the other side with the softest smile as you open the door.

“Hi…” He takes a long languid look at you, “You made it.”

He nods, glancing back, “I did. And the guys too.” You look behind him to see Hoseok and Jungkook coming out of the car. “You ready?”

“Mhm, Eunji and Hwayoung are gonna be down in a second.” You breathe out, watching the way he smiles when he’s looking at you. You step out of the building right as his friends walk up the steps.

Yoongi turns to them then back to you, “This is Jungkook and there is Hoseok, they’ll be helping your friends move that old couch down…”

You introduce yourself to them, looking up towards the building, “I’m sorry in advance for the trouble. Our elevator is under maintenance for god knows how long…” you scratch the back of your neck.

Hoseok shrugs, nudging Jungkook, “Eh, I’m sure all four of us can figure it out while you guys are out. Do you have anyone helping you guys load the new one?”

Jungkook nods, “Mhm, maybe one of us should come with you?”

“We’ll be fine,” you snap your head to Yoongi, wondering if he’s already planned something, “the people selling the couch will help us out.” 

You frown as you watch him, “Really?”

He glances at you, “I couldn’t help myself, I reached out to confirm some things.”

You reach out to playfully push him. He had been begging you to give him the contact info so he could confirm things but you had insisted everything was fine. Somehow he had managed to find a way to reach out to sellers. He mouths a small ‘sorry’, making you giggle while looking down to your feet. 

The door opens behind you where your friends step out to get introduced to the boys as you look at them, “Oh, Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoongi, these are my friends Eunji and Hwayoung…”

This is the first time your girls are really seeing Yoongi anywhere near you, and you feel their eyes lingering between the both of you during this introduction. You shift closer to him to make more space on the steps, Yoongi grabbing your shoulders to place you in front of him. 

Hoseok makes small talk with your friends as they discuss some more details about moving the old couch down the stairs. You feel Yoongi’s presence behind you shift as he nudges your hand with his, nodding towards the van parked just in front of your home.

“We’ll get going, we have a few hours to kill and you guys need all the time to figure that situation…” Yoongi lazily gestures towards your building. 

Jungkook shakes his head and says, “Pffft, please, we’ll have it done before you guys come back.” 

“I like the confidence.” You say, smiling as Jungkook winks at you, which makes you laugh. Turning to Yoongi you say, “Let’s go.”

You hug your friends really quick as you walk to the van, getting in the passenger seat and waving everyone goodbye as you and Yoongi drive off. 

You’re maybe twenty minutes into the drive when he looks over to you and you do the same. Your eyes meet briefly as he looks back out to the road and you start laughing. You see the frown that’s growing on his face as you giggle, covering your face. 

“You’re pouting.” 

He scoffs, shaking his head, “I’m not.”

“You definitely are.” 

He sighs, biting his lower lip. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel and you smile as you look out the window. 

“Jungkook’s a flirt. You have to watch out for him.” You immediately start to grin, pivoting your head to stare at him like he’s grown a second and third head. Doesn’t he realize it’s him you like?

“Not my type.” You say, meeting his gaze briefly as you giggle. “Plus, I know someone who likes him.”

He stays quiet, saying nothing for a while until you reach in the bag of snacks his mother left the two of you. Clearing his throat, he glances shyly at you, “Who is it?”

“It’s a secret.”

Humming, he smacks his lips, “Jungkook likes your friend Eunji.”

You turn your entire body towards him, restricted by the seatbelt as you huff a laugh at that revelation. Your mouth hangs open, the corners of it tugging into a smile as you begin laughing, “What? Eunji?”

He nods, “The moment he realized we were hanging out, he wanted me to ask you to set him up with her…” he takes one hand off the wheel and rubs the back of his neck. “I told him I wouldn’t do that, that it wasn’t fair to put you in that position…”

“To play cupid?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“You could’ve…”

He raises an eyebrow at you as you add, “Eunji has had the biggest crush on Jungkook all semester long…” You laugh to yourself. “I even thought about asking you if it was rude to ask you for his number for her but she insisted I didn’t…She didn’t want to make our friendship weird.”

He looks over to you, then down to the kimbap in your hands, “Can I have one?”

“Mhm.” You carefully unwrap part of it to make it easier for him to eat as she smiles. “Here.”

He takes it from you, biting into it eagerly. You’re both quietly eating as he keeps driving. 

“So, without meaning to, we've left them to meet and get to know each other…” 

You smile, “Eunji is so charming they’ll have a date planned by the time we get back, I guarantee you…”

Yoongi snorts, “You think so?”

“I’m willing to bet money.” You sound so confident, amusing him as he nods.

“Okay, I’m a smart enough guy to know that I am definitely losing this one.” He’s laughing while taking another bite. “How long have you all known each other?”

“Mhm?”

“Hwayoung and Eunji.”

“Oh! Well, I met both of them during our first year and they were my first roommates, and I was new to Seoul so they helped me get out of my shell.” You smile, reminiscing over your first year of friendship with your girls. “We decided to stick together and here we are…”

“They’ll kill someone for you I bet.”

“We do have a plan if the need arises.” You’re grinning as he snaps his head to glance at you, shocked. “I’m kidding! Jeez, your face was priceless!”

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you play radio DJ, looking out the window as you hold his phone in your hands. You’re smiling, watching the beautiful sunny day as you cross the bridge to your destination. You feel the device in your hands buzzing a couple of times, not daring to look down and invade his privacy as you lift it towards him.

“I think you’re getting some messages.”

He briefly glances at you, “Can you check that for me? Might be the guys. Password is 0411.”

You bring the phone back to your lap while still staring at him like he’s grown two more heads, “What?”

“Can you please check who texted?” His eyes wrinkle, clearly amused at your shock.

You do as he asks, unlocking his phone to check his messages. When you open the messages app you’re met with a small amount of text conversation, but the most shocking thing to you is that your conversation is pinned right at the top next to his parents and Namjoon. You smile softly as you glance down to spot Hoseok’s message.

“It’s Hoseok.”

“What did he say?” 

You read the message, “Uh, he’s asking if we want to have fried chicken later on after we’re all done?”

He nods, “Yeah, if that’s okay with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugs, “Because I’m assuming we’ll be eating it at yours, and that you might not be ready for me, or us, I mean, to come into your space…” he’s stumbling over his words near the end there, making you smile.

“I’d be mad if you didn’t stay.” You look down to the phone but quickly back to him. “Can I tell him we’d love to buy you food for helping?”

He’s about to protest but you cut him off, “Oppa, I’m gonna be so mad if you even think of saying I don’t have to because I know I don’t, I know we don’t but I, I mean, we’re like that. So, let us buy you guys fried chicken and beer–”

“You don’t drink…”

You laugh, “I’ll get myself some Cola…” you relax against the seat, “Okay? So, after all this, please stay, you and your friends, with us to have some chicken. On us. As a thank you.”

Yoongi looks like he’s considering for a moment but he knows he’s lost this battle, “Text him.”

You start laughing and he sighs loudly, making your belly hurt when you laugh even more, “Okay..”

Yoongi [9:47 AM]: Hoseok, it’s me. Yoongi Oppa is driving, but yes, let’s have fried chicken absolutely. It’s on me and the girls. As a thank you for helping us out! (smiling emoji)

You shut the phone again, smiling to yourself at how flustered you both get around each other. You look at the satellite navigation and realize how close you are, “Oh, we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, we are.”

When you return to your apartment it’s nearly noon and you’re both getting hungry again, but rather than eat, all six of you very carefully bring your new pride and joy up those horrible flights of stairs. You have never sweat so much in your life, panting as you watch Hoseok and Jungkook bring up the last piece. Standing at the bottom of the stairs you crouch and take a moment to breathe.

“You good?” Hwayoung asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

You’re nodding, looking up, “Yeah, I don’t think I need to work out this week is all.”

She laughs, looking around as if to make sure you’re alone, “So, how did it go with you-know-who?”

You immediately start feeling timid, “It went good. It was nice. He’s a good driver.”

She smacks you over the head, “Yah! You know that’s not what I’m asking!”

“Ouch!” You rub the back of it. “It went fine. The wife thought Yoongi and I were a couple buying the couch, kept…kept calling us cute…”

She starts giggling and kicking her feet, “Oh my god, I wish I was there to see your little face getting all shy!” She reaches over to pinch your cheek as you swat at her. 

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” You tease, shaking your head. You look up again and huff, “He even played into it too. I was so embarrassed, I was sure he would have caught on…”

Hwayoung confidently shakes her head, “Naaaah. I’m sure he doesn’t think he could ever be so lucky to have a girl like you even think of him that way.”

You scoff, “Don’t put me on a pedestal, that’s weird.”

“I’m your best friend, of course I’ll put you on the highest of pedestals…” 

You wearily stand up, every muscle in your body sore from all the moving and lifting, “You’re sweet, I love you.” You walk to hug her, sagging your entire body against hers. 

You hear footsteps behind you, Hwayoung gently tapping your hip to alert you as you remove yourself from her arms. You turn around to face Yoongi who has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking between both of you.

“We’re done upstairs. The guys wanna go get food but we were gonna go back home,” you perk up, concerned, “and we were gonna come back to have that fried chicken…We just all really want showers.” He laughs softly, earning one out of you too. He senses the relief in your body as you shift on your feet. Oh god, he could absolutely tell you were worried he was leaving and not returning. 

“Yeah, yeah, no that makes sense. I mean,” you turn to your friend, “gives us a chance to do the same.” You tuck a loose strand behind your ear. 

And just like that, you all agree to meet a few hours from now.

You can’t quite believe the setting at this moment.

You’re sat on the ground in your living room, leaning against your brand new couch as Jungkook and Hoseok are dancing around the room, laughing and making everybody laugh. Hwayoung and Euni are matching their energy, making the entire evening a hundred times better. 

You glance across the table to Yoongi who is sitting cross-legged, arms crossed over his chest hiding either amusement or embarrassment behind his bangs. He looks so good. He’s dressed extremely casual. A pair of black sweat pants and a black hoodie. Really nothing to write home about but because it’s him? So much to write home about. 

He meets your eyes and smiles at you. 

This entire night you’ve been giving each other little smiles, looking away the moment you caught the other looking. He’s been getting you sodas whenever yours runs out or gets you more chicken when your plate is empty. He’s considerate and pays attention.

But your friends, and new friends, are having so much fun. But you are also getting overwhelmed and overstimulated by it all. Your social battery tends to die down far quicker when you have to think too much about how you are perceived. It’s a day to day worry for you. 

You calmly clean up the empty boxes of fried chicken, making sure there’s at least less of a mess for later but you know they’re all drinking, dancing and singing, and it will most likely last for a few hours. You don’t mind it, you can usually go to your room and your friends just understand when you start cleaning and slip away. 

Which is what happens. 

You don’t mean to, but you’re spent and you are quite honestly overthinking. 

You think nobody notices when you go to your room, leaving the door ajar just so you’re not being completely anti-social, you know?

You go to your en-suite bathroom because yes, you are lucky to have one and you thank your friends all the time that they let you have it. You grab some sweatpants and a sweater, remove your makeup and brush your hair. You take a good look at your own self in the mirror and smile, shaking away the mildly self-deprecating thoughts as you head back out to your room.

You are walking to your bed when you hear the faintest knock amidst the karaoke going on in your living room. 

“Come in…”

The door creaks gently, a tuft of black hair poking through to reveal Yoongi as he meets your eyes. He’s waiting for your permission to let him in, because he would never dare assume he could. You nod, crossing your arms over your chest as he fully steps in and he hesitates to shut the door but does so.

You breathe out in relief, “Loud out there.” You remark. “They’re having fun?”

He nods, facing you but his eyes are dying to explore your bedroom, “Yeah, too much maybe…” he laughs, “You were right by the way. Jungkook said Eunji asked him out on a date.”

You don’t even look surprised, no. You look pleased at your friend’s confidence. 

“I figured…” You watch him, chewing on your lower lip. “You can look around. I’ve got nothing to hide…”

He exhales, taking a few more steps inside to wander as he looks from wall to wall. He doesn’t rush the process. He delicately takes his time looking at every inch of your room, and you stand there watching his back as he learns you. Is he psychoanalyzing me? You don’t think you’d even mind. It seems to be a Yoongi thing to do. He learns people without talking. 

Because sometimes you tell more of a story when you’re not talking. 

You stand still in the middle of your room, over-analyzing every inch of your belongings as you wonder what everything says about you. What can Yoongi see. 

Too many books, for one.

“How many books do you think you have?”

Fuck, seriously?

“Uh,” you’re nodding, and you should know an actual answer to this because you do, “I don’t think I know, too many that’s for sure. Too many for my bookshelves.” You laugh nervously. 

He finally turns to you, standing taller, “You okay? You uh, you left pretty quick…”

The question, you don’t know why, catches you off guard as you nod, “Yeah, my social battery for being around people, new people especially just…depleted…”

He steps towards you a little more, “Should I go?”

“No,” you shut your eyes, because you absolutely said that too quickly, “I mean, no. You can stay.”

You notice the space between the two of you growing smaller and smaller, and soon enough you are almost toe to toe or chest to chest. You make the simple mistake of looking up to him and he’s already staring at you. 

You look from his eyes and briefly glance to his lips before down to your feet, “Have I said thank you for helping?”

His voice is hoarse, it’s strained from…what? “A couple of times…”

“Good, I just wanted to make sure I had, y’know–” you gasp when you feel his hand wrap around yours. 

You look up at him and there is no denying it. He’s looking directly at your lips and there’s no more questioning it. It’s not one sided. 

Min Yoongi most likely feels the same way you do. 

You feel the way his fingers gently ply yours apart, some of them wrapping around yours as you suddenly feel his breath on your cheeks. Oh god, when did he get so, so close?

You watch the way his eyes search yours, again looking for anything to indicate to him that you want this and you can’t help but wonder how long it will take him because you do want this. Terribly so. 

You reach up on your tippy toes, his fingers tightening around your hand and pulling you closer. You finally think this is it, the moment where you get to know what kissing Yoongi is like.

But sometimes you can’t always get what you want. 

“Unnie!!” 

It’s Eunji, and both of you pull apart, facing the door as it opens with Eunji and Jungkook at the door.

“We’re gonna go out for drinks, do you wanna come?”

She must be so drunk to not realize who she’s talking to but it’s Yoongi who speaks, “She doesn’t drink.” 

You’re shocked but you’re more distracted by the hand he was and is still holding behind your back, squeezing your tangled fingers in reassurance, “I’ll stay in, I think…”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi, “You coming?”

You know he has to go, because otherwise there are going to be questions. Questions that neither of you are ready to answer. Because neither of you have actually processed anything. There is so much that happened in so very little time. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” He let’s go of your hand, stepping around you and as he’s about to step out he looks back to you, “Talk later?”

You hum, and nod. And just like that he leaves you. 

And you’re alone in your apartment with all of your thoughts.

6 PM to 11 PM has been pure torture. 

You haven’t slept a wink.

Everyone has been gone for hours and yet you’re still by yourself at the apartment, lying in your bed staring at the ceiling contemplating what’s next. 

Buzzing. Your phone buzzing is what’s next. 

You reach out to it so fast, it falls to the ground and you fear for it until you grab it. Your face freezes but your heart jumps in anticipation at Yoongi’s text on the screen. 

Yoongi [11:12 PM]: You okay?

How do you answer that?

How do you explain that his being that close to you has nearly reduced you to pieces? That you wish you had locked your door. That you could stay in that moment with him. 

Fear rises in your chest, but it also becomes your inspiration. Your courage. 

Being honest with yourself means being honest with him.

You [11:14 PM]: Being honest?

You [11:17 PM]: I thought you were gonna kiss me in my room. 

And you shut your phone, eyes squeezed shut. Shit, shit, shit.

And just as quick as the text is sent? Your phone buzzes with a phone call. 

And the caller ID? Yoongi.

With little hesitation, and anticipation, you answer, “Hi?”

“Hi…” his voice is strained, and he’s breathing heavily.

You both stay silent on the line with only both of your breathings being the only thing heard you settle in that silence. You relish the moment before everything changes. Because as hopeful as you may be? He could very well want something different. 

“I nearly did.” 

Your heart jumps, “What?”

“Kiss you.” Your heart jumps. “I nearly did. I…I still want to.”

A/N: Here it is! They've almost kissed and there is no more denying for them. I hope you enjoy this, things are gonna get moving soon! :D

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentyThree

This Chapter is NSFW

Steve blinks awake; something woke him, some movement. Eddie. Eddie’s half flopped across Steve’s back where Steve’s laid on his stomach. He’s kissing his way across Steve’s shoulders, “twen-ty two,” he whispers haltingly to himself, then another soft kiss, “twe-n-ty three.”

Steve stretches, his shoulders still aching from finishing the pool yesterday. Eddie had helped a little, mostly holding the hose and washing down the sides. Even with Jon as an extra pair of hands it had still taken hours. Steve shifts, dislodging Eddie a little, “what you doing baby?”

“Winning.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “how do you mean?”

“Eddidie try more kisses,” he kisses Steve again, “twen-ty four.”

Steve rolls over, “I didn’t realize giving kisses was a competition.”

Eddie darts forward, kissing Steve on the cheek this time, but Steve manages to grab him and get him back, making Eddie giggle, “Eddidie twen-ty five. Stee One.”

“Oh you come here you cheater, I’m gonna’ win.”

Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone. Keith is a prick, and he’s always going to be a prick, who even works at nine in the morning on New Years day? Steve is certain that the store actually closes for New Years day and Keith has invented that shift just to torture Steve.

And he’s on the close on New Years eve which just...sucks. He sighs again. At least that one is with Robin. It’s like he wants to punish both of them.

“Okay Stee love?”

“I’m okay, but I’ve got to go back to work in a couple of days.”

Eddie frowns, “Eddidie work?”

“I...yeah. Maybe. When you’re ready yeah?”

Eddie looks a little sad, but he agrees, “Stee work time calendar?” Eddie goes off and gets a pen before Steve answers, and then waits, watching as Steve writes the shift times he has so far in the boxes on Eddie’s calendar.

Eddie squints at it, “called am p-m?” He says A M like the word, ‘am,’ and Steve knows he really needs to get onto those books Eddie got for Christmas.

“A.M is in the morning, and P.M is the afternoon. The night time.”

“Nine morning, nine night time?” Eddie asks, pointing.

“You got it baby…what do you want to do today?”

Eddie perks up immediately, “drive car?”

“I...yeah. You know what, fuck it, what’s Hopper going to do, arrest us?”

“Fuck it!” Eddie crows back, a massive grin on his face.

“Huh...I don’t know if I should tell you off or not. It feels like I should but that also feels dumb.”

“Feels dumb. Called arrest?”

“Oh it’s…so if Hopper finds someone who does something bad, he locks them away to keep everyone else safe?”

“Someone who...hurts people?” Eddie volunteers cautiously while they get their shoes on.

“Yeah. Yeah like that. It keeps everyone else safe, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, get your jacket.”

The ruins of Starcourt are pretty comprehensively taped and fenced off...but half the lot isn’t. Eddie eyes the ruin speculatively, “Eddidie in before?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s where you were when I found you.”

Eddie frowns, leaning over to touch Steve’s face delicately, around his eyes, the bridge of his nose,“Stee hurt.”

“I was, but that was ages ago now. I’m fine.”

Eddie accepts that, so Steve sits and explains to him what all the parts of the car do, how to put it in drive, and back into park, and then lets Eddie do it from the passenger seat. Then puts the seat all the way back, letting Eddie lean over to watch his feet, he shows him how to go and how to stop. He doesn’t bother with stuff like indicators yet, not wanting to over complicate things.

Eddie seems alright with all of it, and Steve figures he does trust Eddie; Eddie does pick shit up really really fast.

They swap seats, “okay, so, what do we do first?” Eddie reaches for the key where it hangs in the ignition, “ah ah,” Steve chides. “What’s first?”

Eddie thinks for a second before sheepishly clicking his belt on; Steve does the same, “now?”

“Sure baby, you can go now.”

Eddie starts the car, grinning big as it starts up. Steve watches as Eddie does the brake and carefully puts it in drive, “good?”

“Yeah, go on then, carefully though. Slow.”

“Carefully, slow.”

And Eddie does, the car inches forward, then picks up a little speed. Eddie’s leaning all the way forward in his seat, chest practically pressed against the wheel, both hands studiously at ten and two. They're probably doing all of a brisk walking speed, maybe a jog, but Eddie’s got a massive happy grin on his face. “Okay, turn then,” Eddie does, making random loops across the lot and then back again. “Okay, stop.” Eddie does, carefully shifting his feet. It jolts a little when they come to a full stop, Eddie pressing too sharply.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay, put her in park.” Eddie does, “okay, good, go on then, go again.”

Eddie does, and they do go a little faster, Eddie slowly gaining confidence.

They stop a few times, Steve explaining about the mirrors and then sets Eddie the challenge of parking the car up between the white lines in the empty spaces.

They go until Eddie’s stomach rumbles audibly, Steve completely having lost track of time, “okay, time to go home.”

Eddie nods agreeably, “home.”

They’re laid on the couch together, Eddie’s holding open one of the kids books he got for Christmas, sounding out the letters and making out the words. He never ceases to amaze Steve with just how fast he picks this stuff up.

Steve helps occasionally, but Eddie seems to be able to, mostly, intuit how the words should sound by working through the letters. He keeps digging Steve with his elbow though, when he shifts to itch his stomach, keeps wriggling around, and it only seems to be getting worse.

“What are you scratching at?” Eddie puts the book down, pulling his shirt up so they can both see; part of Eddie’s stomach looks like it’s peeling, like bad sunburn. It only seems to have been made worse by Eddie’s itching, the skin pink and lined.

Steve hums, “lets go put some cream on that.”

Investigation only revels more patches of dry flaking skin, randomly all over Eddie’s body. Steve was there when Eddie got dressed this morning, so he’s one hundred percent certain that these weren’t here then. The more he looks the more he finds, they’re up Eddie’s back, and under Eddie’s bobble hat looks like the worse case of dandruff Steve’s ever seen.

“I hope you’re not allergic to something.”

“Called allergic?”

“It’s- I. I don’t even know how to explain this,” Steve sighs, “sometimes people...something doesn’t agree with them?” Eddie tilts his head, scratching absently at his thigh, Steve gently pulls his hand away, “don’t itch it. Okay...for some people, just very few, laundry powder makes their skin itchy. For no reason, it just...happens. Or some food. Maybe just one person can’t eat nuts, it’ll make them hurt.”

Eddie frowns, but nods, using his free hand to scratch at his back, so Steve grabs that hand, too.

“We should call Joyce, she might know what to do with the itching.” The cream doesn’t seem to be helping, it’s just making Eddie itchy and greasy at the same time.

“Call Joyce yes.”

“Hello?”

“Oh, hey, Will. Is Joyce home?”

“Sure yeah, just a minute. Can we come over to the store tomorrow? Mike said Nancy said Robin said you’re going back to work tomorrow morning?”

And Steve can hear Mike in his head, ‘and Steve’s at least good for his stupid staff discount,’ “Yeah, yeah sure-”

“Cool so we can come watch stuff tomorrow afternoon?”

“I-yeah,” Steve looks at where Eddie is using a door frame to scratch between his shoulder blades, rubbing back and forth aggressively, “yeah, maybe.”

“Cool, okay, see you tomorrow!”

There’s a moment of quiet, and then, “hello?”

“Oh, hi, Joyce. It’s, uhm...Eddie’s kind of, itchy? Like he’s suddenly peeling all over? Do you know what we could do?”

“Oh...well when the boys had had chicken pox I put them in the bath with some baking soda, that helped?”

“Okay, okay yeah, I’ll give that a go, I just don’t know why this is happening.”

“It does kind of make sense, new born babies peel.”

“They do?” Steve asks, slightly horrified.

“Yeah, yeah, usually happens sort of within the first week, I think. What was his first poop like?”

“I-” Steve stalls for a second, this conversation having just taken a really weird turn, “I don’t know, hang on,” Steve pulls the phone away from his ear, “Eddie?”

Eddie comes over, “Joyce says the peeling is normal, we can go have a bath in a minute, it might make it better, okay?”

“Together?” Eddie asks, and Steve can hear Joyce snickering down the phone, clearly having heard it.

Steve just ignores that whole thing, “what was your first poop like?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “green. Sticky.”

Really? Steve thinks, green? Steve puts the phone back to his ear, “did you hear that?”

“Yeah, that makes sense Steve, it all tracks. He’s just like a newborn.”

That is...not appealing, Steve can’t help but think.

Eddie’s skin sloughs off like something out of a horror movie. Once lubricated by the warm water, made to feel slick with the baking soda, it comes away in great curling pieces. Eddie picks at himself with his claw like nails, Steve leaning over the edge and getting all the little flakes with a loofah. Steve gets to Eddie’s feet, and Eddie giggles and tries to drag his foot away when Steve gets to the arch, thrashing in surprise.

“You’re ticklish!” Steve tells him, delighted.

“Not,” Eddie insists, almost immediately.

“Alright, so you won’t mind if I-” Steve pins his ankle in the water, using his other hand to tickle Eddie’s foot.

Eddie thrashes, water going everywhere, “stop. No. Stee, Stee, stop,” he can barely get the words out he’s laughing and thrashing so much, but Steve takes mercy on him and doesn’t do it for long.

Eddie’s still laughing after, trying to catch his breath, wriggling his toes and watching in amazement. Once he’s settled down, he reaches into the water, bending a knee to reach and tickle his own foot, then frowning when nothing happens, “Stee? Not ticklish.”

“Oh,” Steve says the picture of innocence, “let me try?”

Eddie nods, watching, and then instantly fighting again, laughing, Steve’s clothes are wet with splashed water, “Stee Stee noooooo,” Eddie wails, but when Steve stops again he’s grinning, all flush and breathless.

“Ticklish,” Steve tells him.

“Stee ticklish?”

“Nope,” Steve lies confidently, there is no way in hell he’s giving Eddie that one.

“Why ticklish time Stee touch, not ticklish time Eddidie touch?”

“I...you know I don’t actually know why you can’t tickle yourself. Just one of those things, I guess,” he says, shrugging, “right I think you’re all done, most of it’s gone, right?”

“Most of it’s gone, right.”

Eddie’s still flaking the last tiny bits as he dries off, but it seems to be pretty much done; Eddie drops his towel in the hamper, and pouts when Steve makes him put his hat in there too, “it’s covered in skin, we can do laundry and you’ll have it back, okay?”

“Okay. Bed now?”

“It’s too early for bed-” Eddie comes and stands in front of Steve, completely naked, pressing himself forward, holding Steve’s hips, “ohhhhh...bed now. Sure, yep, we can do that.”

Eddie grins, peeling Steve’s damp shirt up, Steve lifting his arms to help. Eddie drops it carelessly on the floor, going next for Steve's pants, pulling everything down in one go and letting it drop so that Steve can step out of it and kick it away. Steve takes Eddie by the hips and walks him back towards the bed.

Eddie goes easily, shuffling his way back, Steve crawling on after him to climb between Eddie’s parted legs, keeping his weight off Eddie and on his forearms, leaning down for more hungry kisses.

Steve feels it when Eddie’s dick slips out, the head nuzzling against Steve’s pubic hair as Steve’s own cock starts to firm up, to fill out. Eddie’s dick isn’t as intimidating now Steve knows it can’t bite him, those little nobbles are too small to do anything, and even when it was holding on as tight as it could to Steve’s thumb, during Eddie’s orgasm, it didn’t hurt at all.

Steve reaches down to adjust himself, pulling his hardening cock up to lie against the crease of Eddie’s hip, rather than being trapped pointing down. Eddie’s cock follows Steve’s fingers immediately, and Steve stops a second to pet it, stroking along the length before he goes back to resting on both arms, leaning in for more kisses.

Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, parting his legs naturally to accommodate Steve as he settles in, Eddie drawing his knees up a little. The position is close enough that it makes Steve think...makes him remember a thought he'd had from the first time, “can we try something?”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie replies easily.

“Okay, but I need to make you come first, alright?” Eddie nods, clearly very happy with that plan.

Steve hums, thinking. Eddie’s never had sex with anyone else; Eddie is, also, a creature from The Upside Down. Eddie bit Steve’s toes off and it never got infected, and they’ve also kissed and touched a lot and Steve’s never gotten sick, never shown any sign of catching anything. There doesn’t seem to be any possibility that Eddie might be a...carrier, of some sort of disease but...on the balance of probability, Steve figures better safe than sorry. Steve’s been with plenty of girls, but he’s always used protection, so he’s pretty sure that he’s clean but...what if he isn't, and he inadvertently gives something to Eddie? Steve has no idea what Eddie’s immune system might be like and...yeah. Eddie definitely can’t make an informed choice around all this, at least, not yet. So.

He leans over, shifting off Eddie a little to rummage in the top drawer, his fingers fiddling in the box until he manages to pull out a condom.

He leaves the wrapper there on the bed, in easy reach.

“Called?”

“Oh, it’s a condom. I’ll show you what it’s for in a bit, okay?”

Eddie nods, accepting that, before pulling Steve down for more kisses. Soft and sweet, with just a hint of Eddie’s only slightly too sharp teeth. They kiss, Steve taking his time, just enjoying the feeling of Eddie holding him. Eddie’s hands are just as curious as his mind, left to their own devices they roam every bit of Steve they can reach, flowing the dip of his spine and the curve of his ass. Groping and kneading at his shoulders, the tops of his arms. Buried in his hair, scratching gently and tugging lightly. Steve drinks it all in; can feel how much Eddie loves him, how intent every touch is. Like Eddie’s memorizing him.

Like every inch of Steve is precious.

Likewise Eddie’s cock is wriggling back and forward between them, burrowing it's way through the narrow space, the head rubbing against Steve’s hip and then nuzzling into his pubes; he feels it when the head opens, the flower petals pressing against Steve’s skin before moving on. He feels it when Eddie’s cock finds the base of his own, it seems to wriggle around it, the head pressing against one side and withdrawing, only to creep along the other. The petals open, grasping at the hard flesh at the base of Steve’s dick. He moans, rutting against the crease of Eddie’s thigh, Eddie’s dick following the movement, hanging on in a gentle clutch at Steve’s flesh.

Eddie likes it too, if the huffing, breathy little sighs he’s letting out are anything to go by, so Steve doesn’t stop. He lifts enough to look down between their bodies, and Eddie does the same. The black flower petals are a stark contrast against the skin of Steve’s cock; they’ve latched to the side, near the base, and a thick drip of precome stretches a connection between the head of Steve’s cock and the skin of Eddie’s hip.

Eddie starts wriggling, hips lifting, “Stee. Please more? Eddidie come.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve lets his hips rest against the cradle of Eddie’s again, keeping his weight on his forearms he leans in for kisses that Eddie returns eagerly, matching the movements of Steve’s hips with an enthusiastic slide of his own, Steve’s cock slippery wet now with precome, “you close to coming baby?”

Eddie frowns, head tilted back, letting Steve kiss and nip at his throat, “yes no.”

“Okay,” and Steve can’t keep doing this for that much longer, otherwise he’s going to come and that’ll be the end of his idea, “want me to touch you?”

“Yes. Touch good.”

“Okay,” Steve pulls off completely then, letting himself tilt to the side. Eddie’s dick looks like it’s stretched to the absolute limit, clearly not wanting to let go of Steve. Steve reached down, distracting it with the touch of fingers; it goes eagerly. Once Eddie’s dick has let go, Steve rolls the rest of the way to lie on his hip, the same as last time, snugged up against Eddie’s side. He takes Eddie’s eager cock in hand more naturally this time, more sure of what he’s doing.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie turns into it. He’s clearly distracted, his kisses sloppier now, wetter, half the time his mouth hanging open as he pants and moans quietly, Steve’s thumb working circles across the open head of Eddie’s cock.

Eddie whimpers, “okay?”

Eddie shakes his head, frowning, “not-not coming.” He squirms, face crinkled up in frustration and, possibly, discomfort, so Steve stops but Eddie immediately says, “no. More touch,” so Steve starts up the gentle movements of his thumb. Eddie’s hips squirm more, his cock pulsing and twitching, almost bucking in Steve’s hand; he’s so close, Steve knows he is, there’s just something stopping him.

Eddie needs more, and Steve doesn’t know what to do for him; it’s not like Eddie has nipples he can play with, “baby, what do you need?”

“Rough,” Eddie says suddenly, and oh, Steve gets that, maybe his thumbs tugging a little. He sits up, leaning over same as before, letting his mouth fill with spit. He pins Eddie’s cock still, but it’s wriggling so much that only half of it lands on target, the rest spattering on the webbing between Steve’s finger and thumb.

Steve doesn’t have chance to even get his thumb back in place, that’s enough, Eddie’s hips bucking as he cries out, the loudest noise he’s made so far. The flower petals half close, then open a little, doing a weird little celebratory Mexican wave type thing as Eddie’s back arches sharply, and his right leg twitches violently.

Steve just rides it out, letting Eddie’s body lift his own as Eddie’s hips roll again and again. Eventually it passes and Eddie settles, “okay baby?”

Eddie hums, his cheeks flush and his brown eyes bright, “perfect okay.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “all done?”

Eddie nods, then sighs with contentment, “inied.”

“Good,” Steve lets his cock go, it’s almost funny how it sort of lays down, like a little drunk dude just lying right there on the floor. “Still up for trying something?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay,” Steve clambers up, sitting on his knees next to Eddie, he opens the condom and then, pinching the end, carefully rolls it down to the base of his own cock.

“Why?” Eddie asks, watching with interest now.

“Oh it...well. If you were a girl, it would stop you getting pregnant.”

“Called preg-nant?” Eddie sounds the word out slowly.

“Yeah,” Steve pats his own stomach, trying to word it how Eddie might understand, “planting a baby.”

“Eddidie baby,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, yeah I know, but I mean baby like...tadpole.”

Eddie sits up then, “tell Eddidie many many baby! Baby called tadpole! Eddidie not kid!”

Steve rubs his face, “oh man,” Steve gets Eddie by the shoulders, but he can’t help but smile, “baby is because...I love you, okay? I know you’re not a tadpole. I know you’re not a kid, okay, it’s just...someone special. Someone important. I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” but Eddie doesn’t look like he’s buying it, at all. And Steve’s sitting here with a throbbingly hard dick and it’s not exactly the conversation he wants to be having right this second.

“Okay, moles? Remember how moles are little animals but moles are also this,” Steve points to his neck, Eddie nods, “two different...but it’s the same word, yeah?”

Eddie’s face lights with understanding, and Steve knows he’s won, “okay, yeah. Eddidie baby.”

“Okay...so how do you feel about me putting my dick in you?” Steve shuffles between Eddie’s legs, his hard cock pointing the way to exactly where he wants to be.

“In? Wet?” Eddie questions. He reaches down to indicate what he means, he uses two fingers, his black oval shaped nails part his glistening wet slit in what is, unintentionally, possibly one of the most erotic things Steve’s ever seen. From where he’s kneeling between Eddie’s spread thighs, he gets a good look at just how wet and pink Eddie is inside, flooded with clear, jello like come.

Steve cock twitches, remembering just how tight it was on his finger, he tries to speak and fails, needing to clear his throat, “yeah, in. Do you want to try?”

Eddie nods, lying back and bending his knees more, letting his thighs fall further apart, the mouth of the slit slick and gaping.

Steve takes a deep breath, letting himself sink forward and down, he takes his weight on one hand where he hovers over Eddie. Using his other hand to guide the head of his dick, notching it at the opening of Eddie’s body.

Eddie's hand flies to Steve’s shoulder, gripping hard, so Steve stops, his eyes dragging, with great difficulty, away from where the rounded head of his condom covered dick is just breaching Eddie, “okay?”

Eddie frowns a little, looking worried, “slowly? Carefully?”

“I-yeah, of course. Eddie we don’t have to do this-”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie insists, “Eddidie tell no.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Eddidie tell no,” he says again, “it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, but you’ll tell me if it does hurt?”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie tell ow.”

“Okay,” Steve looks back down to what he’s doing, allowing himself to slide forward just the most fraction of an inch.

Almost immediately Eddie says, “ow.”

Steve freezes, looking back up. “It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie says innocently.

Steve can tell Eddie’s trying, and failing, to hide a grin, “you’re such a little shit.”

Eddie does laugh then, “little shit. Okay, Steve in now. Promise okay now.”

Steve shakes his head, taking a deep breath, he sinks in. Eddie’s channel is narrow, and it grips the sides of Steve’s cock beautifully. Eddie’s come is so thick and wet it slicks the way, and Eddie is just so fucking warm inside. It’s bliss.

He’s so wet inside that when Steve bottoms out, there’s an obscenely wet squelching noise, and Steve can feel the thick gloop of it dripping out and seeping onto his balls, forced out of Eddie’s body by Steve’s cock. “How does that feel? Okay?”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it again, like he often does when he’s searching his limited vocabulary. He presses a hand to his stomach, lifting it a little to indicate being bloated or...“after Christmas food.”

“Full.”

Eddie nods, “full,” he shifts then, experimentally rolling his hips, and Steve can’t help but moan at the sucking drag of Eddie’s hole on Steve cock. “Good?”

“So good. You’re so so good for me baby, can I move?”

“Go, yes.”

Steve keeps his weight up off of Eddie, mostly because he wants to watch. When he pulls his cock back out, it’s shiny wet, clumps of Eddie’s slick clinging to the condom like slithers of jello. Steve, cautiously, slides all the way back in.

Eddie sighs, lifting one leg to rest his calf on Steve’s back, changing the angle a little so that Steve’s cock is guided now by the bottom of Eddie’s channel, he’s gripped tight on three sides, and it’s not like anything Steve’s ever felt before.

He already knows this is going to be a short show, but he’s pretty sure Eddie said he can’t come like this anyway, so hopefully he doesn’t mind. The glide is so slick Steve rocks in and out easily, his skin warming, the space between them becoming clammy. Steve can distinctly feel that crease of flesh, the pucker he’d found, dragging up and down the underside of his cock with every thrust.

Eddie holds him tight, one hand gripping Steve’s side, the other on his shoulder before it migrates into Steve’s hair when he leans down to kiss Eddie.

His balls are tight and wet with slick where they're nudging up against Eddie's body, and he’s so close already, he just needs his mouth on Eddie, needs Eddie’s tongue in his mouth when he chokes out a groan, “gonna’ come baby,” against Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie’s eyes are alert and bright, watching with interest. He makes little huffing noises when Steve goes particularly deep but otherwise he’s not showing much sign of actually getting off on this, “yes. Come in Eddidie.”

Steve does, his cock twitching as he grinds up tight to Eddie, filling the condom with sticky mess. He’s a little out of breath as he comes down, panting where his face is buried in the crook of Eddie’s neck; Eddie rubbing his back lovingly, “good Stee?”

“Yeah. Yeah so good baby, thank you.”

“Get cleaned up?”

Steve laughs a little, then forces himself to move, reaching between them to grip the condom at the base so he can pull out. Eddie makes a little chirrup of a noise when Steve’s clear of him, a little shiver running the length of his body and then he stretches luxuriously, arms above his head, wriggling his toes, a picture of contentment. All of his crotch is shiny wet, and as Steve watches his dick sort of rolls over and then slowly withdraws.

Steve pulls off the condom and ties it, Eddie watching with interest, then wrinkling his nose when he sees what’s inside, “taste bad.”

“Well I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Eddie trails after Steve into the bathroom, watching as he ditches the condom in the trash, “called complaints?”

“Uhm...no one else, other people, non of them said it tastes bad.”

Steve’s got the shower going, and when he turns, Eddie’s frown is nuclear, his hands on his hips in a determined Steve pose, “other people,” he repeats icily.

“Oh boy.”

Steve sighs. He’s been back to work for, he checks the clock for about the hundredth time, nearly two hours, and he’s already had enough. He’s almost looking forward to the kids showing up. Not that it isn’t nice to finally spend some time with Robin but...he kind of misses Eddie. It’s probably like, the honey moon stage, or whatever, the first shiny new part of a relationship when all you want it them but...still.

When the phone rings, Robin calls, “I’m not getting that.”

Steve sighs, leaving his stack of returns and leaning over the counter to scrabble for the phone, “hello, Family Video, how can I help-”

“Stee love.”

“Eddie? How did you- never mind, you okay?”

“No. Eddidie ow. Hurt.”

“Okay, I’m coming home, not long.” Steve hangs up, “Robs! I just got to go home a second, that okay?”

“Oh no,” she says from where she’s rolling back and forth on the office chair, waiting for a tape to rewind, “whatever will I do in the face of this horde of customers,” there’s currently one dude in the store, “I shall never cope with-”

“Yeah yeah, back soon.”

Steve doesn’t break any traffic laws on the way home, but he probably pushes it. Eddie’s on the couch when Steve gets in, looking alert and watching for Steve, “you okay?”

“Eddidie hurt,” he says, looking sad suddenly.

“Okay, show me.”

And Eddie stalls. Just for a moment, but long enough for Steve to catch it, before he, vaguely, indicates his tummy.

Steve suddenly has an inkling as to what’s going on here, but he comes to sit next to Eddie anyway, resting a gentle hand on his tummy, “hows that.”

Eddie nods, “good. TV?”

“Oh no. If you’re sick, then no TV. We just have to sit quiet.”

“Dinner food?”

“Definitely not. No. Here, lie down.”

Eddie does, but with a frown on his face, “Stee Eddidie out in car?”

“Nope.”

Eddie’s pout has achieved spectacular levels, “why?”

“Because you’re sick.”

It seems to dawn on Eddie that he has been completely caught out in his lie. Steve watches it happen, the emotions slowly play out. Eddie looks like he’s going through the stages of grief or something.

“How did you get works number? To call me?”

“One book,” it sounds like ‘own book.’

Steve hums, “how did you know which number it was?”

Eddie points to Steve’s vest, where it clearly says ‘Family Video’ over the little breast pocket.

“You’re so fucking clever. But I have to go back to work. You’re fine, aren’t you?” Eddie pouts, “you must never tell lies.”

“Called lie?” Eddie asks, shame faced now, plucking at his sleeve.

“Not true.” Steve tugs at his vest, “this is green. True. This is blue. Lie. Eddie is fine, true. Eddie has an ow, lie. We never tell lies.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Steve bends down to kiss Eddie on the cheek, “I’ll be back around nine, okay?”

“Steve, you want anything else?”

“No thanks Joyce that was amazing. Here, let me help with dishes, you should sit.”

“No, you’re a guest-”

“Let the kid help-” Hopper starts.

“Because it gets you out of it,” Joyce huffs, but it’s fond, and she leans over and kisses Hop on the cheek.

When Steve gets back, Eddie is sitting on the couch with El, one leg pulled up, his fingers locked together over his shin, “Steve,” she says.

Eddie leans forward, a look of great concentration on his face, “Ste-eee,” he says, but it comes out wobbling and uncertain.

“No, it’s got a ‘v’ in it,” and she makes the ‘v’ sound again, “so, Stee-ve,”

“Vee?” El nods, “Ste-vie?”

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest. Watching them, he feels a strange sense of happiness for Eddie, but also melancholy; he knows he’s about to loose, ‘Stee’. It was inevitable, he knows, Eddie’s getting better at speaking all the time. This was always going to happen.

“Almost, Steve,” she stresses the second part of Steve’s name.

“Steee-vie?” Eddie frowns, looking a bit frustrated that his mouth isn’t cooperating.

“I like Stevie,” Steve says, heading over to them.

Eddie nods, “Ste-vie,” he says proudly, “Stevie love?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve wedges himself between Eddie and the arm of the couch, then Jon files in and sits on the floor, making room as the coffee table gets shifted. Joyce

Hopper and Mike squeeze onto the other couch, “here kid,” Hopper passes an envelope across.

Out of it fall a drivers license, a passport, a birth certificate. Steve is caught for a second looking at the little picture of Eddie in his wig, and he guesses it works well enough. You have to really squint at the little picture to figure anything is up with it, and even then Steve figures he knows so he's looking for it, and the picture is obviously Eddie. He reads the details on the license, “Edwin!” He says, suddenly outraged, “Munson?! Hopper what the-”

“It’s what it said on the paper!”

“It did not say ‘Edwin’-”

“Eddie is not anyone's name kid, Eddie is always short for something else-”

“Edwin though?!”

“It was the first thing that popped into my head-”

Steve feels Eddie take the stack of papers out of his hands to inspect them, “and Munson? It said Mon-son! With an ‘O’!”

“It did not!” Hopper digs around in his pocket for the scrap of paper Steve had handed him along with the photos, “here, Munson.”

“That’s an ‘O’!”

“Well it looks like a ‘U’!”

“Stevie,” Eddie says carefully, “Stevie love, drive car again now?”

Steve looks over, Eddie’s carefully turning the pages of his new passport, inspecting his license, reading his birth certificate, like all of it is the most precious things he’s ever seen, “yeah,” Steve sighs. “Yeah, yeah of course.” Eddie beams at him.

Hoppers eyebrows are practically in his hair, “what does he mean, ‘again’?”

Part twentyfive

[karikarasuno]

part three | part four | wc: 3.4k

Even though your day had been busy and the kids were rowdier than usual, you decide to stay late at the studio to learn a random TikTok dance some of the girls were begging you to teach them. The lights are dimmed in the room you’re in and Nami is sitting cross-legged in the corner texting rapidly on her phone. 

Your phone is propped on the ballet bar as you play the video on a loop while you try to catch the dance moves from the original creator of it. You’re so focused that at first you don’t see the movement behind you in the reflection of the mirror. It isn’t until you look up that you see a very familiar figure staring at you through the mirror. You’re frozen for a second as you just stare back at him. Mostly out of confusion at first because what the hell is Ace doing at your job?

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the doorframe leading into your room. 

“Why are you here?” You ask as you slowly turn to face him. You notice the way Nami’s head snaps up in your peripheral vision.

“Robin’s power was out in her office,” he answers and his eyes quickly track over your body. You can feel it. And you have to suppress a shiver. You’ve been battling memories of your night together for the last two weeks and it’s been driving you insane. 

“And what does that have to do with you?” 

“I’m the electrician.” There’s a light chuckle that follows his words as he motions to his belt with all kinds of tools you assume are for his job. “She called me to fix it.”

“Right,” you nod, trying hard not to shift between your feet to give Nami any ammo about how nervous Ace actually makes you. And he makes you very nervous considering he’s the only reason you fall asleep at night. With the help of your fingers. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What’re you still doing here?” 

“Some of my students want me to teach them this viral dance so I figured I’d stay an extra hour to learn it.”

“Well isn’t that sweet?” He smiles. And you get the sense that he hasn’t realized you two aren’t alone because he takes a step towards you, breaching past the entry of the door and his boots thump against the vinyl flooring.The thickness is back again. The oxygen is starting to be snuffed out by flames you can’t even see but have the unfortunate pleasure of feeling. They lick at you. 

“Yeah, Nami was supposed to be helping,” you stop to glare at her and she’s hiding a grin that you have come to recognize as somewhat devious behind her hand, “but she decided her phone was a better use of her time.”

Ace’s gaze finally falls on her. You were right. He hadn’t seen her sitting in the corner before. And now you wonder what he would’ve done if the two of you were actually alone. He was walking towards you with intent. Purpose. Now you’re annoyed that Nami is here.

“Hey, Nami,” Ace greets her, smiling. Charming as ever. There’s only a brief flash of discontent in his eyes when he looks her way but he covers it up quickly. He has manners. 

“Hiii, Ace.” Her smile broadens like she’s privy to a secret you know for a fact you haven’t told her. “Nice of you to stop by to see us.”

“Wouldn’t be any good at my job if I didn’t show up for it.”

“You’re such a smartass.” Nami shakes her head with a laugh. “You think you can stop by the apartment and check out my AC unit next?”

“You gonna pay me this time?”

“You never heard of a favor?” She says, attitude and all. 

“You have a habit of not repaying those either,” he replies, quickly, playfully. And a part of you wishes you were comfortable enough to talk with him like this. So casually. Simply. But you made the silly mistake of fucking him before getting to know him, so now all of your interactions are riddled with a memory you can’t really speak about. Not when you’re consistently in the presence of others. 

“Oh, boohoo.” She rolls her eyes, and you’re not sure that’s really helping her case, but Ace chuckles regardless. “Summer's round the corner and it’s getting too hot in my place. Come on, please.”

She’s giving him the same face she gave you when she asked you to cover her shift at Whitebeard’s. But Ace isn’t really buying it. Which you appreciate. And probably need to learn how to do before she gives you more trouble than she’s worth. 

“I’m not Sabo, that won’t work on me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” She whines, throwing her hands up. Dramatic.

“Don’t think I don’t know.” They’re sparring. Gazes locked. Intense. You’re confused yet thoroughly entertained. 

“Oh,” she nods and claps her hands together. “And you don’t think I know that you and-”

“Ace.” Robin walks into the room. More like floats. A ballerina never really loses her grace. “Since you’re still here I wrote up that check for you.”

She hands him the slip of paper. Her neat cursive loops on the check as he takes it from her. “Thanks again for coming by so short notice.”

“Anything for you,” he says, tipping his head at her. A smile gorgeous enough to make your knees melt decorates his features. You refuse to be this down bad.

“Anything for you,” Nami mimics childishly, “but you can’t come over and see what’s wrong with my fuckin’ AC. I guess I’ll have a heat stroke and die since you don’t care.”

“Stop your whinin’.” His smile falls when he rolls his eyes. “I’ll stop by tomorrow. Early.”

“Not before 10,” she clarifies, standing from her spot on the floor. 

“I’ll be there at 9,” he corrects.

“You’re impossible,” she complains with her hands on her hips. 

“That’s rich comin’ from you, sweetheart,” he laughs. It’s deep and a little condescending. And oddly enough, it turns you on. But at this point anything he does would turn you on. It’s an unfortunate circumstance of already knowing what he feels like inside you. 

He waves everyone goodbye. Waltzing out of the room with smug satisfaction. You assume their bickering is a frequent occurrence. One that everyone seems to find mildly amusing. 

“Can’t believe you fucked that guy,” Nami says when Ace is out of the room. You nearly choke on your shock. Her bluntness alone is enough to stun you. 

“How…” You don’t even possess the wherewithal to finish your question as you look rapidly between Nami and Robin. And pray that Ace is far away enough not to have heard her. 

“You’ll learn soon enough that the rumor mill round here works fast,” Robin giggles. “Secrets are never hidden for long.”

***

Power outages seem to be a running theme right now. You’re lounging in your living room reading on your day off when suddenly everything in your home goes dark. The fan stops spinning. The oven clock is blank. You even check your phone to see that the wifi is out. 

An hour passes and nothing. The house is eerily quiet without the usual hums and whirs of technology. You were kinda hoping that this would resolve itself. That maybe there was a general outage that would be fixed soon. Unfortunately, you don’t have neighbors close enough to ask. And the heat is starting to seep into your home. Your shirt is beginning to stick to your back and you begrudgingly accept that this is an issue only one person can fix. 

Ace can’t possibly be the only electrician in town. 

“He is,” Nami says when you call her and ask. “Guess you have to call your lover to come save you.”

“Why do you have to be like this?” You groan, throwing yourself back onto your couch. 

“What? Beautiful and funny?” She laughs at her own joke. Nami really only lives to entertain herself. 

“It was only once and we’ve barely spoken since,” you say, the heat starting to give you a bit of a headache. 

“There isn’t much talkin’ needed for what you two were getting up to,” she laughs again, breathy and tickled. 

“How did you even find out about that?”

“Funny you ask,” she pauses, probably for dramatic effect knowing her. “Ace told Sabo. Sabo told Zoro when he went to pick up his pork order. And you would think Zoro isn’t much of a gossip considering he never really has anything useful to say. But he tells Sanji who cannot keep a secret especially if you bat your lashes at him. Who told me and Robin when we went in to grab some breakfast one mornin’.”

“Great,” you sigh, covering your eyes with your arm, “so the whole town knows.”

“Practically, but you don’t gotta worry. No one really cares.”

“That’s good to know I guess.” Slightly relieved that the looks from the old lady at the supermarket weren’t because she thought you were some loose woman. 

“Marco was kinda grossed out when he found out y’all fucked in the parking lot of Whitebeard’s though,” she cackles and you can just imagine the way she throws her head back from the force of her own laugh. 

“I’m never covering for you ever again,” you grumble, turning to bury your face in your couch cushion. This is just embarrassing. “Just give me Ace’s number so we can get this over with.”

“Oh yikes, I forgot his phone broke.” Fucking great. “But I can get you his address. He actually lives a few miles down the road from you.”

“Since when?” He’s everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. You should be running into him every second of every day with how interwoven your lives seem to be. 

“Since the Roger’s estate was built a million freakin’ years ago.”

“Ok whatever,” you groan, annoyed. “Text it to me.”

****

When Nami said estate she wasn’t exaggerating. The house is huge, almost like an overgrown cabin. And the driveway leading up to the home is endless. You can see the stables an acre or so away. There’s also a large pick up truck parked in front of the steps leading up to the door. You park behind it, sitting in your car for another minute after you’ve shut it off just to wrap your mind around what you’re about to do. 

Showing up at Ace’s doorstep isn’t something you ever expected you’d be doing. And for some odd reason, a restless anxiety sputters to life in your chest. He makes you nervous. Like ‘if you do something embarrassing you might flee town and never show your face again’ type of nervous. Which you shouldn’t be. He’s just a man. 

The doorbell is loud as it chimes through the house. So loud you swear you feel it vibrate the floor beneath your feet. You shuffle awkwardly while you wait. And you wait quite a long time. Maybe no one’s home which would suck for you since you can’t even text Ace about your issue. Also a waste of gas driving out here for no reason. But just as you’re about to descend the front steps and eat your losses, the door swings open. And the man standing before you is definitely not Ace. 

He’s the size of a giant. Tall and overbearing. His mustache is even harsh beneath his nose, bushy, white, and severe. And with an energy so intense and palpable you think the earth actually shakes when he says “who are you?”

You want to say no one. Because really who are you compared to this goliath of a man? 

“I was looking for Ace,” you say timidly. Like a child. “My power’s out and he’s an electrician, so…”

“He’s out,” he replies gruffly, his voice is rough with age. 

“That’s okay.” You take a step back, closer to the steps. “Can you let him know I stopped by? I live down on Jinbe’s ranch.”

He sizes you. It’s intimidating and now you’re nervous for a completely different reason. This man really is terrifying and you’re almost ready to run. 

“He’s just out back. Come in, I just put on a pot of coffee.” He turns around without another word. You’re stuck in place for a moment, unsure if to follow him inside or not. Your mother may not have been the greatest but stranger danger was something she instilled in you. That sentiment feels applicable to this situation. 

“Hurry up. You’re lettin’ the hot air in.” He scolds you over his shoulder and you follow without another thought. Still wary, but not feeling like you have much of a choice. 

He leads you to the kitchen where he’s grabbing two mugs from a cabinet. He motions for you to sit down at the small breakfast table by a window in the kitchen. It’s cute and quaint. And not at all the style you imagined Ace would go for when decorating the house. There’s a round jute rug under the table and cute multicolored cushions on each seat. Bohemian and totally surprising. 

“Milk and sugar?” He huffs out.

“Yes, please.” You don’t even want coffee, but you can’t refuse. He simply nods in acknowledgement before he heads towards you and places the mug in front of you, much more gentle than you would’ve expected him to be. You take a sip, pleasantly surprised by how good it actually is. Not bitter or acidic. It’s soft, maybe a light roast. Decaf perhaps. 

He shuffles back over with his own coffee and a platter with miscellaneous snacks. He struggles to sit down across from you. His sheer size gets in his own way, but you just noticed the oxygen tank he’s been rolling around. The clear tubes beneath his nose were easy to miss when you first saw him due to his mustache. 

“You like tinned fish?” He asks, opening a can with a pop. “It’s the fancy kind.”

You cock your head to the side and say “never had it.”

“It’s good for ya,” he replies, plucking a slice of toasted sourdough off the plate and scooping out a few sardines from the can. “I make Ace go into the city every now and again to grab me some. That place all the young folks like. Trader Jim’s, I think.”

“Joe’s,” you correct instinctually.

“Who?” He questions, but you just shake your head deciding that explaining is not worth it. 

“Here.” He holds out the toast for you to have. The sardines are smushed on the top and it looks like olive oil is soaking through the bread. It doesn’t look the most appetizing but you take it anyway. To be polite. 

“Thanks,” you say hesitantly. You aren’t even all that hungry, but you take a bite anyway. It’s not the first snack you would choose for yourself but it's edible, so you swallow it before you place it on the small plate he gave you. 

“You a friend of Ace?” He asks and you know it’s out of curiosity because he doesn’t seem like the type to be uncomfortable by awkward silence. You’re almost positive he could sit here silently with you until Ace shows up, but a part of you is grateful for the question. Maybe he senses your unease. 

“Something like that,” you answer, taking a sip of your coffee. “We met at Whitebeard’s a few weeks ago.”

He nods, chewing his toast thoughtfully. “You like the place?”

You furrow your eyebrows at the question, not really expecting his interest, but you say “sure. Under any other circumstance, I think I would’ve had a really good time.”

“Whaddya mean?” He’s staring at you intently and you try not to squirm in your seat. 

“Well, technically I was working. I was the line dance instructor that night since Nami couldn’t be there.”

“Ah, stage fright,” he nods in understanding. 

“It’s an intimidating crowd,” you breathe out through your nose, trying to laugh it off. 

“They’ve been unruly since I opened the place up,” he laughs hoarsely. It teeters into a wet cough. 

“You’re Whitebeard?” You remember Marco saying how he helps out at the bar because the owner was old. But now you can see the owner is also sick. 

“One and only,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal. But from what you’ve heard he’s a local legend. You honestly started to believe Whitebeard was part of the town folklore with the way everyone spoke about him and no one ever saw him. 

“Didn’t realize I was in the presence of town royalty,” you tease, and there’s a tense moment where nothing is said. And you begin to feel like you overstepped, like you made yourself too comfortable in his company. But suddenly and without warning, Whitebeard laughs. It’s booming and the table quakes a bit from the force of it. You pick up your mug so that the coffee doesn’t spill over, but you smile. A little proud of yourself for getting such a reaction from a man who seems so stern. 

“What’s so damn funny?” Ace’s voice cuts through Whitebeard’s laugh. He’s rounding the corner into the kitchen, taking off a dirty pair of gloves before he looks up and immediately makes eye contact with you. “Wait, what’re you doing here?”

“Where’re your manners, boy?” Whitebeard answers firmly. “That ain’t no way to speak to a lady.”

You feel your face heat up. Ace looks at Whitebeard and they seem to have a silent conversation. One that Ace very obviously loses. “Sorry about that. Welcome to my home. May I ask the purpose of your visit?”

It’s riddled in sarcasm. He even softens his accent in an attempt to sound more formal. Whitebeard huffs in annoyance and you try your hardest to keep from chuckling. Ace sees the way you hide your amusement and he grins. Clearly pleased with himself. 

“I didn’t mean to drop by unannounced,” you start explaining. “I would’ve called but Nami said your phone was broken so she gave me your address instead. Anyway,” you shake your head when you realize you’re rambling, “my power went out this afternoon and I was hoping you could come over and check it out. Whenever you have time, obviously.”

He looks over at Whitebeard, who is quietly eating his afternoon snack. “Yeah, just gimme an hour. I gotta take this guy to his doctor’s appointment first and then I should be free.”

“That works, thanks.” You stand from your place at the table, unsure of what to do next. Weirdly enough you feel your palms start to sweat. At this point, you think you should also see a doctor because Ace’s effect on you truly isn’t normal. “And thanks for the coffee and company, Whitebeard. I appreciate it.”

“You can call me Edward, darlin’,” he says. He raises his mug to you in goodbye and you smile despite having been so afraid of him not even twenty minutes ago. He’s not so bad.

“I’ll walk you out,” Ace says when you face him. He’s standing much closer than he was before. His hands are on his hips and he’s looking at you with the weirdest expression on his face. It’s an odd mixture of fondness and confusion. And you don’t know him well enough to determine whether that’s a good or bad thing just yet. 

“You don’t have to. I parked right out front.” 

“And where would my manners be if I let a lady walk out the house without an escort?” He smirks at Whitebeard when he says that. The words clearly intended for him. You don’t see Whitebeard’s reaction to his words, but by the look on Ace’s face and the obvious amusement shining in his eyes you assume it involved a middle finger and a scowl. 

“Let’s go,” Ace says with a laugh, putting his hand on your back to lead you out. It’s a nice gesture. A polite one. But his palm is so warm, even through your shirt. Heavy too and you know for a fact it’s not the full weight of his hand resting on you. You’re completely aware of the power in Ace’s grip. The light bruises on your hip the day after you slept with him were a good indication of how strong he is. 

Now you’re tense. So tense you may or may not have forgotten how to breathe. And dread, full and consuming, washes over you when you realize that in an hour the two of you will be alone. In your house. Alone.

part five

taglist: @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @nico-ith @chillerkiller @jozhenji @starchild-unnamed @certain-tragedies @hannahbarberra162 @kanekisheart

[agentmarvel]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request f!reader x the cod boys reaction to her taking a sick day after having an IUD placed, either platonic or an established relationship with one of them, up to you. I can only imagine mixed reactions, especially after learning what all goes into the procedure. This is totally self indulgent so I was hoping for it to be on the fluffier side, BUT no worries if you’re not interested!!

Thank you!!🤍💐

i love this🖤 thank you for requesting, kat! hope you enjoy!

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

141 x afab!reader (individual pairings - head canon format)

☆

john is worried.

“not like you to take a sick day, dove. you sure you’ll be alright ‘til i get back?”

tbh, he’s so pressed about it. he knew in advance what the procedure would look like - educated himself after the birth control discussion came up - but your body isn’t reacting the way either of you had hoped. it’s far worse.

scared the hell out of him when you called yesterday afternoon and asked that he pick you up. obstinate, headstrong thing that you are, you declined his offer to accompany you to the appointment in the first place. you were in no condition to drive.

the thought of leaving you now, even for morning pt with the team, sets his teeth on edge. you’re strong, he knows. you can handle yourself just fine. but what kind of man would he be to leave his girl when she feels this fucking awful? - spoiler alert: he’s not going anywhere.

with your reassurance (and telling him he’s being a bigger baby than you about it), he tucks you into your nest of pillows and blankets, leaves ibuprofen and a cup of water on your side table, and makes sure your heating pad is plugged in and within reach.

simon is supportive.

“i’ve seen you shot, stabbed, blown up, burnt, broken bones; you’re a tough bird, you can handle it.”

you’ve been through worse. you both know that. doesn’t mean that he isn’t sympathetic to the pain you’re feeling, though. he watches you like a hawk, monitoring every scrunch of your nose or pained grimace or you squeezing your eyes shut just a little too tight. you’ll take the meds he picked up for you like clockwork with the fresh cuppa he brings you every four hours. he’ll take the day off with you, let you squeeze his hand when a cramp or muscle spasm is particularly gnarly.

he’ll hold you while you nap, too - playing with your hair, keeping you centered on top of him with one bulky arm slung across your hips, wishing the whole time that he could trade bodies with you until the aches are gone.

johnny is pissed.

“an’ they donnae give ye fuckin’ anesthetic? och! tha’s fuckin’ cruel s’what tha’ is!”

this man is L I V I D. he didn’t know the details of iud placement until you made him watch a video, and he’s been going off the rails since. it infuriates him to no end that you’re expected to just tough it out with nothing more than basic fucking pain relievers. don’t even get him started on that medieval torture device you called a ‘tenaculum’ that they stabbed you with!

he’s planning a murder while he orders a delivery of supplies. angrily, his thumbs punch at his screen as he selects all the things he even thinks you might need to get through the week - even though you keep telling him you’re sure you’ll be fine tomorrow. 

“not gonna stab my hen and get away with it.”

(when you ask what he’s muttering about over there, he tosses his phone aside, rolls you into his arms, kisses the top of your head, and tells you lunch is on the way.)

kyle is sympathetic.

“poor thing,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “what can i do to help?”

like price, kyle took the liberty of doing his research. 

cramps and muscle aches/spasms are common after placement, and some women will actually pass out in the minutes following the procedure. he texted a medic friend to get ahold of some muscle relaxers for you, picked up standard issue pain meds, bananas for potassium to combat the cramps, a second heating pad (one for each side), chocolates, tea, and a new plushy for you to squeeze on. your boyfriend was adamant that he take you to and from your appointment, even if you didn’t want him in the room while it was happening. every single base is covered in advance to mitigate the worst case scenario.

when you curl into the fetal position, gritting out an abrupt “all good”, he wraps himself around you like a shield.

[steddieas-shegoes]

off the ice

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'icy roads'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 763 words | no cw | tags: good uncle wayne munson, pining, open ending (but is it really when we know they end up together), flashback

🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊🧊

Eddie was given permission by the team to travel to see Wayne for Christmas. He hurt himself at work and was pretty limited on what he could do, and his neighbor who usually helped him out was visiting family for the holiday. Eddie was all he had.

His plane was delayed nearly three hours, so he didn’t even get to his rental car until nearly eleven at night.

There’s snow on the ground, but not nearly as much as there is in Vancouver. The air is freezing, but there’s barely any wind.

And then Eddie hits a patch of black ice and he barely manages to keep control of the car and he ends up pulling over about four miles from Wayne’s trailer. The only light is the moon and one light from someone’s house.

It’s the first Christmas without Steve.

The thought hits him worse than the rush of nearly crashing the rental car.

Steve hasn’t reached out and Eddie hasn’t either, and they both should have by now, but they’re both stubborn. Eddie doesn’t think Steve will be the first to do it, so he should just do it.

He should text him.

He should ask him how he’s doing, what he’s doing, see if he wants to come to a game. Eddie would love to see him again, in person, surrounded by the thing they both love: hockey.

He breathes in slowly and continues the drive, slower, a bit more cautiously than he probably ever has.

When he makes it to Wayne’s, he’s hit with a pang in his chest at the Bruins flag being taken down. Wayne had never been much of a fan of any team until he and Steve got drafted and the flag went up– and stayed up– until this past offseason when he got sent to Vancouver. There isn’t a Vancouver flag up yet, but Eddie doesn’t mind it so much. He knows Wayne supports him no matter what.

He doesn’t even bother grabbing his bag; He just heads inside, shaking his head at the door being unlocked. Wayne is asleep in his chair so Eddie tries to be as quiet as possible.

“Your boy called me an hour ago.”

Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes Wayne’s actually awake. He should have known.

“He isn’t my boy,” Eddie says as he tries to catch his breath. He’s not sure how much more his heart can take tonight.

“Sure seems to miss you a lot,” Wayne says as he flicks on the lamp next to him, washing the room in a soft golden glow. “You called him yet?”

“Not even gonna say hi before you start on me?” Eddie’s half-teasing, but he’s pretty sure Wayne won’t laugh.

He’s proven right when Wayne sighs. “Hey Ed. Glad you made it.”

“Almost didn’t. You’ve got some icy roads out here,” Eddie says as he leans in to give Wayne a hug. “Doing okay?”

“I’m fine. You and Steve both fussin’ over me like I ain’t grown,” Wayne grumbles.

“Steve’s fussing over you?” Eddie’s not capable of ignoring that.

“Yeah. He offered to come stay if you couldn’t, but I told him he didn’t need to make the trip,” Wayne brushes him off. “He ain’t spending the holidays with anyone it sounds like.”

“I’m sure he’s got himself a girlfriend or something.”

Wayne looks him over before sighing. “Someday, you two will get your head out of your asses as a special gift for me.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He looks over Wayne’s body, frowning at the way he’s holding himself.

“Why don’t you get in bed, old man?” Eddie offers his hand to help him up, not surprised when Wayne brushes him off and slowly pushes himself up. “Take it easy. I can help.”

“I can walk just fine, Ed. You could use this time to call him,” Wayne suggests as he walks to his bedroom. “You know he’s scared to be the one to do it.”

Eddie wants to say ‘so am I.’ He wants to argue. He wants to keep being stubborn.

He wants to call Steve and tell him he misses him.

“Yeah,” Eddie settles on.

He doesn’t call him, though, in the end. He doesn’t think it’s right to do it this late, when he’s tired and stressed from his travel, when he’s feeling especially sad that he won’t have Steve with him for Christmas.

Maybe in the new year he will. Maybe Steve will be the first to give in.

Or maybe they just aren’t meant to figure this out.

[theoggk]

Part Three

TW: ED, angst, self hate, arguments, anxiety, idk prolly more. see masterlist for explanation and my profile for resources.

the music thrums through your cheap wired earbuds as you lie on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. the sound is nothing but static in your ears, a thin veil between you and the crushing weight in your chest. your heartbeat is too loud, too fast, pressing against your ribs, shallow breaths barely making it past your throat.

you’ve turned your phone on and back off at least thirteen times in the last four minutes, but nothing holds your attention. nothing helps.

kie, sarah, and cleo responded to your tweet, but the thought of seeing them feels impossible. you would have to explain. they would ask questions, they would try to help, and they wouldn’t understand. you can’t do it. you can’t.

john b knocked on your door about an hour ago. he asked if you were okay. you lied. he offered to watch a movie, but you said no. you heard the hesitation in his silence, the way he lingered just a little too long, like he didn’t think you should be alone. but your short, clipped answers drove him away.

and now you’re alone again. worse.

it feels like you’re underwater, floating slightly while the world above you stays still. even the music begins to stretch and distort, fading into something distant, something untouchable. it sounds like it’s playing from the end of a long tunnel, hollow and echoing back to you.

at some point, your body stops responding.

at some point, your mind slips.

you lay there, floating in limbo, not sleeping but not thinking, not letting yourself think. your limbs feel like lead, heavy and unmovable. the room is dim, the music stops playing after you don’t know how long. 

then the door opens.

john b.

his voice is careful, like he’s afraid to startle you. “hey do you wanna get up? it’s like 1:30.”

1:30?

1:30.

you blink. the time repeats itself in your head, but it doesn’t feel real. 1:30. it was nighttime. you were just lying down. you were just—

“y/n,” john b says again, stepping closer, concern etched into every line of his face. “you need to get up. you’ve been laying here since this time yesterday and you’re scaring me.”

scared? why would he be scared? you’re fine. you got into a little fight with jj, and you just need to lay here for a bit. that’s all.

it’s no cause for concern.

but when you try to speak, nothing comes out.

your tongue won’t move. your body won’t move.

your brain understands, but your limbs won’t follow.

he crouches down next to you. “you gotta breathe yn. i know you’ve got a lot going on right now, but laying here and panicking isn’t gonna help. just breathe in and out, okay?” you hadn’t realized you were hyperventilating.

he takes the earbuds out of your ears and unplugs them from your phone, which he then attaches to a charger, waiting patiently as you try to slow your breathing.

when you’ve calmed down enough, he nods, as if satisfied, and crosses the room, grabbing something off of the floor. it’s jj’s fast arch shirt, the one you borrowed last week. he tosses it at you.

“put this on. it’s a little chilly.”

you look at him quizzically.

“we’re going to the beach,” he responds to your unasked question. “change of scenery.”

your entire body is shaking uncontrollably, but you somehow manage to sit up and pull the shirt over your head. your heart keeps erratically pumping against your chest as you follow him mindlessly down the hall. he’s saying something, but you’re not really listening. the drive is quiet. the kind that doesn’t ask for words, doesn’t demand explanations. the kind where silence is the only thing that makes sense.

the twinkie rattles down the uneven road, the radio playing something soft, something familiar, but the sound barely reaches you. it blends into the hum of the tires against gravel, into the distant crash of waves growing louder as you get closer. you lean your head against the window, the cold glass pressing against your skin. you watch the trees blur past, the sky stretched out in soft gray tones, like it hasn’t decided whether to be morning or something else entirely.

john b hasn’t said much since you left the chateau. he glances at you every now and then, but he doesn’t press. he just drives, fingers drumming absently against the steering wheel. you think about asking if jj is okay, if john b talked to him, if he even cares that you fought or regrets leaving. but the words stay lodged in your throat, thick and immovable. so you don’t ask. instead, you focus on breathing, on keeping your hands from shaking as you pull the sleeves of jj’s shirt over your fingers. when john b finally pulls up near the dunes, he turns off the engine but doesn’t move to get out right away. he exhales, tilts his head back against the seat, and finally looks at you.

“c’mon,” he says, not unkindly. “let’s go.”

you follow him out of the van, your feet hitting the cool sand, the wind biting at your exposed skin. the ocean stretches out ahead of you, dark and endless, waves rolling in steady and unbothered. you should feel something. relief, maybe. peace. but all you feel is tired. john b doesn’t walk far. just enough for the twinkie to be behind you, for the weight of the chateau to feel farther away. he sits down, pulling his knees up and digging his fingers into the sand. you stand there for a second, unsure. the wind tugs at jj’s shirt, the sleeves slipping past your hands.then, finally, you sit too.

the sand is cold beneath your fingers, damp from the night. you don’t speak. neither does he. you just watch the waves, coming and going, over and over. it lulls you, capturing your attention, distracting you from your mind.

“he’s not mad… jj that is,” john b says after a few minutes of silence. “really fuckin hurt but not mad.”

you meet his eyes briefly but don’t respond. you bring your knees to your chest and rest your chin against them, arms wrapped tightly around your shins. continuing to watch as the waves rise and fall again and again, your thoughts drift away and it feels as if your soul itself is being rinsed by the crashing waves. the ocean stretches endlessly ahead. you can hear the waves, the way they roll in and crash against the shore, like they’re just waiting for something or maybe you are.

john b doesn’t say anything for a while after that. he just sits beside you, his fingers buried in the sand, letting the silence settle between you. the sound of the waves is steady, but inside you, it’s anything but.

after a while, he exhales, slow and measured. “you don’t have to do this to yourself. you act like you don’t have a choice, but you do.”

your fingers curl tighter around your shins. “this what?”

john b doesn’t look at you when he answers. “this, y/n. the starving, the throwing up, pretending like it’s not happening, fighting with anyone who wants to help you.” he says, picking up a fistful of sand and letting the grains fall through his fingers.

your breath catches, but you keep your gaze locked on the water, refusing to look at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “yeah, you do.”

your stomach twists, and you pull jj’s sleeves farther over your hands, as if you can disappear inside them. the waves crash again, pulling the sound away, like they’re trying to take the weight with them. “that’s not what this is.”

it comes out too quickly, too automatic, like a reflex.

john b sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yn.” his voice is softer now, but it still holds that unshakable john b certainty. “i let your other bullshit go because i wanted to be wrong, i wanted it to not be that. but i heard you purging, yn—i know we talked about it, and i know you said that you were sick, but you’re lying. and everyone knows that you’re lying.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pang of humiliation cutting through you. “it’s not like that.”

john b lets out a breath, quiet but knowing. “then what’s it like?”

you swallow hard, staring at the ocean, watching the tide roll in, the way it pulls itself back before crashing forward again. you don’t answer. the silence stretches between you, thick and heavy. and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out. “am i losing him?”

john b doesn’t answer right away. he looks out at the ocean, like he’s considering it, like the answer isn’t as simple as you want it to be.

finally, he says, “i think jj’s just trying to figure out how much of you he still has.”

the words hit deep, settling into your chest like something too heavy to hold. jj isn’t just mad. he’s giving up. he doesn’t know if you’re worth fighting for anymore. you swallow hard, your throat tight. you don’t know what to do with the words, how to make them make sense.

“i mean- listen it’s just…. we thought we got you back. we thought you were good. but the fact that you aren’t, like…. i don’t yn that hurts and it’s not because you’re not allowed to be struggling, it’s because you didn’t tell us.” john b says. 

your knees pull tighter to your chest, your chin resting on them as you watch the waves crash, again and again. the silence lingers, the ocean filling the space between you. you don’t say anything else. the waves keep rolling in, steady and unbothered, like nothing has changed. but inside you, everything feels wrong—too heavy, too sharp, pressing in from all sides. you don’t know how long you sit there, your arms wrapped tightly around your legs, your nails digging into your skin.

and then, it all hits at once.

your chest tightens, your throat closes up, and before you can stop it, a sob tears through you. you drop your forehead to your knees, squeezing your eyes shut, but the tears come anyway—hot and silent at first, then harder, shaking your whole body. john b doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t try to make it better, doesn’t tell you to stop. he just shifts beside you, then wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in. it’s not forceful. he’s not trying to fix you. he just holds you there, steady, as you fall apart. you press your face into his sleeve, your whole body trembling. the ocean keeps moving. the wind keeps blowing. and john b just stays.

you dont know how long it’s been when john b exhales audibly and out of nowhere says, “you remember the time you got that jellyfish sting?”

you sniff and sit up, caught off guard. “i- what?”

he smirks slightly. “yeah. we were, like, ten? maybe eleven? it was just the three of us out here, you know like just swimming and i don’t really remember how it went down but you got stung.”

the memory flickers back as you plant your hands in the sand, the crash of the waves, burning sensation of your leg amplified by the sting of the saltwater, the panicked sound of jj’s voice.

“but at any rate, JJ? he was already planning your funeral,” john b continues, shaking his head. “like, full-on sobbing, saying how he was gonna have to tell Dad you died on his watch. meanwhile, your leg was red but you barely even cried, totally fine.”

you let out a breath—almost a laugh and wipe at some of your tears.. “he made me sit on the beach for an hour after that. wouldn’t let me back in the water.”

john b grins. “dude, he made all of us get out. said if you weren’t allowed to swim, no one was.”

”he’s always been like that, you know,” john b says after a beat. “pretends he’s not scared of anything, but when it comes to you? he’s been losing his shit over you since we were kids.”

you swallow hard, the warmth of the memory clashing with the weight in your chest.

“yeah well we aren’t ten anymore and losing it doesn’t always help.” you say, trying to keep the bitter edge out of your voice. 

“then tell him what will help.” john b’s response is level but pointed “but lying? and pretending things are good when they’re really just getting worse? that’s just gonna push him away. he’s loyal to a fault y/n, you know that. but if you keep making him feel unwanted, he’s gonna stop trying.” 

your heart sinks to your stomach and you fight back another wave of tears. 

“john b i’m not the kind of person who wants to talk everything to death, you know?” you say hollowly. “i can’t…. i don’t want to dissect all the worst parts of me with him. i’m fine, and all i need is for you guys to believe me.”

he sighs and doesn’t respond for a long moment. “listen-” he starts carefully but you cut him off.

“no john b come on this is the problem. i get that i was sick before and i know that was hard on everyone but why does that mean your can never trust me again? like you realize that’s bullshit right?” your voice is rising, sounding more angry when really it’s anxiety growing in your chest. 

“no the bullshit is you acting like we’ve personally ruined your life by caring about you” his voice rises ever so slightly for the first time and your stomach twists. “jj’s been begging for scraps of you for weeks and you have given absolutely zero effort to let him in. but he’s still showing up. isn’t that enough? doesn’t that make him worth a least a little bit of honesty? i get that it’s hard for you to talk about but you can’t even admit that there’s something going on with you! so you tell me who’s really not trusting who here?” his words cut to your core and more tears begin to spill down your cheeks. his face softens and he tilts his head at you. “i just don’t understand what you’re doing y/n. and i can’t just sit by and watch while you drown my sister and my best friend. you can’t just keep ignoring everyone’s help, because i don’t know how long they’ll put up with it.”

the tears are pouring now and you don’t know what to say. you can feel him watching you carefully but you can’t look at him, eyes locked on the waves instead. he exhales again, quieter this time, like something’s drained out of him. 

“look,” he says, voice low, “i can’t sit here and fight you into saving yourself.”

your chest tightens again.

“but i’m telling you this as someone who loves you, okay? you need to talk to jj.”

you don’t answer.

john b turns to face you fully now. “not tomorrow. not when you feel like it. today. before he gives up for good.” 

your breath hitches but you still don’t reply. he nods as if you agreed.

“so i’m gonna go wait in the twinkie. you take as much times as you need and when you’re ready we’ll go back home and you can text JJ to come over and have a real conversation, no bullshit.” he starts to walk away then pauses. “and um, just for the record i’m sorry for what i said about the rafe thing. i know you weren’t trying to hurt JJ, but he is bad news yn. you know that.” that’s the last thing he says. you can hear the sand dragging under his feet as walks away.

you sit there for a long time, breathing in the salt air, your brother’s words echoing over and over in your head like the waves hitting the shore—relentless, steady, impossible to ignore. the worst part is that he didn’t yell. he didn’t tear you apart or try to shame you into fixing yourself. he just said the truth and now it’s sitting in your chest like a stone.

you stare at the ocean, trying to convince yourself it’s not that deep. that he’s just overreacting. that jj is too. you’re not dying. you’re not doing drugs. you’re not crashing cars or stealing money or getting arrested. you’re still going to school. you’re still brushing your teeth. you’re still technically eating. it’s not like you’re that far gone.

but your hands are still trembling and you’re wearing a shirt that isn’t yours just to feel something that might make you stay.

and maybe you’ve been lying to everyone for so long that the only person who still halfway believes you is yourself.

maybe even that’s slipping.

eventually, you stand. your legs are shaky but they work. you make your way back to the van, each step slow, like you’re walking back into something you can’t undo. john b doesn’t say anything when you climb into the passenger seat. he just glances at you, then turns the keys in the ignition.

for a moment, there’s only the quiet hum of the engine.

“so you’re gonna text him?” he asks, voice casual, too casual. he keeps his eyes on the road as he starts backing out of the spot.

you stare out the window. “my phone’s at the house.”

“y/n—” he starts.

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t,” you cut in, sharper than you mean to. “i just genuinely can’t. at the moment.”

there’s a pause. then a small shake of his head as he glances over at you again.

“no, i was gonna say… he’s kind of already there.”

your head turns slowly. “what?”

“he showed up while we were gone…. well i like told him to.” john b says, careful, like he’s trying not to spook you. “he’s waiting.”

you blink at him. the information lands in your stomach like a weight. your breath hitches just slightly.

“…you’re an asshole,” you say, not even annoyed, just tired.

he smiles sheepishly. “yeah. maybe.”

there’s another long pause. the road winds in front of you, endless and quiet.

“but i’m worried about you, y/n,” he adds softly, not looking at you now. “i’m not gonna apologize for being worried.”

you don’t answer.

you don’t need to.

you just sit there, the sleeves of jj’s shirt pulled over your hands, your heart climbing into your throat as the van rolls closer and closer to home

taglist:

@citruspoltergeist @kieeslove @drewstarkeyswife-7 @agnxstic @nonbeliever1

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Run, pretty girl, run Chapter 2

Summary:  Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray.  The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives.  Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with.  Will they make it before she goes into labor?  Or at all?

Warnings: violence, pregnancy, childbirth, death of minor character, language, eventual smut

“Бегать”: run “Подтвердить” : confirmed “Enkosi”: thank you “Дома”: home “Добро пожаловать”: welcome

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They drove for hours until it was nearly nightfall.  Bucky pulled off the highway and started taking a complicated route of back roads until they came to a stop in front of what looked like an abandoned house.  He reached back and grabbed their bags as Y/N got out of the car.  She stretched, grunting at the heaviness she carried as she walked up to the house, Bucky not far behind her.  He looked around carefully before pushing the doorbell with his flesh thumb.  A small keypad appeared on the side of the doorbell and he punched in a four digit code.  A whirring could be heard as locks moved and the house seemed to wake up.  The door unlocked and he quickly opened it, ushering Y/N inside and shutting it behind them soundly, punching in the code again.

The inside didn’t match the outside, a fully furnished front room that was clean and tidy being lit up as Bucky switched the light on.  He dropped their bags on the couch and headed towards the kitchen to see what food was available.  “I’m sorry we drove so long,” he called out, opening the fridge to a fully stocked spread of food, pulling out ingredients to make something for them both.  “I promised you dinner, so give me a bit and I’ll make something.”

“Okay,” Y/N said quietly.  “I’ll pick a room.”

“Sounds good,” Bucky replied, quickly putting things together.

He heard Y/N rummaging around in the room just down the hall as he made some simple sandwiches, making sure hers was made the way she liked, but with no deli meat.  Bucky had been surprised that that was one of the things pregnant people couldn’t have, and instead made her a play on a grilled cheese.  As he finished the food he put it on the dining room table and got them some drinks.  “It’s ready Y/N!”

Her footsteps scuffled through the hallway and she appeared in the kitchen, already changed into a long sleep shirt.  “Grilled cheese…you know me so well,” she smirked at him, gripping his arm and squeezing it appreciatively.  Bucky smiled as he helped her sit and then sat himself next to her.  They ate in silence, Y/N looking around the kitchen and into the front room absentmindedly.  When she finished she drank a lot of water then sat back tiredly.  “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“More driving.  We’ll probably reach the coast by tomorrow night, then we’ll have to figure out the next best thing.  Flying isn’t really an option with it being so close to your due date,” he said, eyeing her belly.  “So we’ll need to see what kind of boat options are available to us.  Or see if we can get a hold of somebody else who got out who might have more access to resources than us.”

“Like who?” she asked, rubbing her belly worriedly.

“Well, I’m assuming Yelena will be reaching out soon for an update.  Or maybe Shuri.  She’d be the most secure option,” he rattled off, finishing his food and wiping his mouth.  Y/N nodded, her brow furrowed as she contemplated what he was saying.  He licked his lips and reached a hand out again, covering the one on her belly.  “It’s gonna be okay, pretty girl.  We’ll get there before he comes.”

Y/N nodded again, but she didn’t look convinced.  She sighed and looked up at him with a tight smile.  “Yeah, we’ll make it.”

They cleaned up and went to their rooms that were right across the hall from each other.  Y/N turned in her doorway to face him.  “When do you wanna head out?”

“0800 hours?” Bucky asked, yawning and stretching as he leaned against his doorway.

“Sure,” she agreed.  “Well, goodnight Buck.”

“Goodnight, Mamas,” he smiled tiredly at her.  “Sleep well.”  He leaned down to her belly and poked it lightly with his metal finger, making her giggle.  “And you better let her sleep or so help me God–”

“Oh so now you’re threatening my unborn child?” Y/N laughed.

“Damn right I am,” he scoffed, glancing up at her.  He leaned a little closer to her belly, “Watch it,” he grumbled before standing up straight.  

“You’re so dumb,” she giggled again, rubbing her eyes.

“But you love me,” Bucky smirked.

“Yeah yeah,” Y/N rolled her eyes and walked backwards into the room, grabbing the side of the door.  “Sleep well, hot stuff.”

Bucky slightly blushed at the pet name and rolled his eyes back at her.  They both closed their doors and went to bed.

It was a fitful night’s sleep, Bucky feeling constantly on high alert.  Any small noise made him jump, his hand reaching for the one of the three weapons he had placed around him.  At four in the morning he heard something that made him jump out of bed.  It was like a scraping noise coming from outside, and he silently stalked to the window.  He subtly pulled back a part of the blinds and peeked out.  The super soldier serum made it so he could see well in the dark, and outside was a team of agents, fully equipped and dressed for a stealth mission, sneaking around the side of the house.  Bucky gritted his teeth and stopped himself from swearing out loud, slowly moving away from the window, gathering his things and slipping on his shoes before opening his door as quietly as possible.  He snuck into Y/N’s room, gathering her things into her bag before going to her bed.

“Y/N,” he whispered, shaking her shoulder gently.  Y/N jolted, turning to look at him with wide eyes.  She had obviously had a fitful sleep like he did.  She inhaled and opened her mouth to speak but he covered it with his hand.  “There’s a team outside.  I counted at least 7 on the side of the house.  We need to go.  Now.”

Y/N nodded against his hand, her breathing becoming shaky.  He helped her get up slowly and quietly, slipping her shoes on before guiding her down the hallway to a set of stairs that were hidden in a wall.  They went down the stairs, locking the door in the wall behind them with another keypad.  Under the house was a basement that doubled as an underground garage.  The lights turned on automatically as they walked on down the steps, displaying three vehicle options.  Bucky chose the high speed suburban nearest the exiting door.  This safe house had a mile long getaway underground track that would eventually spit them back out on the highway.  Y/N got in and strapped herself in as Bucky put their bags in the back again.  He started the car, opening the garage door with a button inside the car and driving down the tunnel track.

They went at a normal speed at first so as not to attract attention with a rumble under the dirt.  As they got further away Bucky sped up until they started to see the beginnings of sunrise shining down into where the tunnel started to slope up towards the road.  When they finally drove out of the tunnel they were able to merge onto the empty highway, and Bucky took off like a shot down south.  Y/N looked behind them, making sure no one was in sight.

“I don’t see anything,” she said, turning back around.  “God, how did they find us?”

“My guess, they had some information on Stark’s old safe houses somehow,” Bucky mused, his brow furrowed low with anger.  “We need to call Shuri.”  He fished his burner phone out of his pocket and gave it to Y/N.  “Dial 7 three times.”

Y/N nodded and did as he said, putting the phone on speaker.  After four rings the phone was answered.  “Sergeant Barnes, Бегать,” Shuri’s voice filled the car.  

Both Y/N and Bucky sighed at the sound of her voice.  “Подтвердить,” he replied.

“We’re on a secure line.  Where are you?” she continued.

“Leaving the safe house in Virginia,” Bucky replied.  “They made us.  We’re driving down south as fast as possible.”

“Us?” Shuri asked.

“Hey sweetie,” Y/N spoke up, a small smile on her face.

“Y/N?!” Shuri shrieked.  “Bast, aren’t you due any day now?”

“In 6 days,” Y/N informed her, her voice tense.

“Shit,” Shuri whispered.  “I would send one of our ships to pick you up but we’re being watched by the Americans,” she said quickly.  “Can you make it to the port in Miami by tonight?”

“It’s a bit of a long drive, but yeah, I think we can make it,” Bucky said.  He felt something was off and looked in the rearview mirror, seeing a row of black cars coming from the horizon.  “Fuck!” he yelled, pressing down on the accelerator.

“What?” Shuri asked, Y/N looking back at the road, gasping at the sight of the cars following them.

“We’re being followed,” Bucky growled.  “We’re not gonna make it.”

“Just keep going.  I’ll get the Talon sent now, damn the Americans,” she said, the sound of beeping screens on her end.  “I’m tracking you.  We’ll be there as fast as possible, but it will still take just under an hour.”

Bucky swore again as he tried to think quickly.  They were sitting ducks out here on this long open road.  He pushed even harder down on the gas, the car slightly rattling at how far he was pushing it.  The cars behind them were still a ways off, so if he could just outrun them for a little longer, they’d be able to evade long enough for the Talon to reach them.  “Okay, just get here,” he said, trying to keep breathing evenly.  Panic would only make it worse.  Shuri agreed and ended the call.  

Y/N was starting to hyperventilate, her hands shaking as one held the phone and the other protectively covered her belly, rubbing it up and down.  Bucky glanced at her.  “Hey pretty girl,” he called out to her.  She looked at him frantically.  “We can’t panic, okay?  The Talon will be here soon.  We just gotta keep driving.”  Y/N nodded, breathing deeply through her nose and exhaling heavily through her mouth.  He reached under the seat and grabbed the gun hidden underneath.  He handed it to her and she automatically checked to see if it was fully loaded and fire-ready.  He smiled at how strange the sight was of a heavily pregnant ex-agent holding a cocked gun.  “But just in case…you got this Mamas.”

The gun in her hand seemed to somehow calm her, her hands stilling as she focused on the task at hand, her training coming back like second nature.  The cars the agents were driving must have been made for high pursuit, because within twenty minutes he could see them start to close in on them.  Y/N saw them approaching in the side mirror and suddenly unbuckled herself, slipping into the back seat with surprising agility with such a large belly.  She dug into her and Bucky’s bags, pulling out the guns they had and making sure they were all fully loaded.  The first car was coming up on their rear.  Y/N could see one of them roll down their window and point a gun at the car.

“Duck,” she said loudly.

Bucky ducked down just as the first shot rang out, ricocheting off the back window, barely leaving a scratch.  “Gotta love bullet proof glass,” he murmured.

“Roll down the window,” she instructed him.  

Bucky did as she asked and she leaned into the door, slowly holding the gun outside the car window.  She aimed carefully, letting the agents waist their bullets before taking her first shot.  Bucky could see the agent leaning out of the passenger window in the car behind them get hit right between the eyes, his body falling limply out of the window and onto the road, making the first car swerve and the second car try to move and lose control, flying off the highway and into the ditch along the side, rolling a few times.

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked.

Y/N hummed and moved to the other side of the car.  He rolled down that window as well and she aimed at the next agent that was more careful this time in not completely hanging his body out the window.  She was one of the few sharp shooters he’d come across that rivaled Bucky’s prowess as a sniper.  She took a moment to get the perfect shot and the next agent’s head hung limply out of the window.  Y/N took down each shooter one by one, then shot out the engines of two of the cars that tried to come too close with the high power guns hidden inside the car.

The last two cars suddenly accelerated and got on either side of their car.  Bucky rolled up the windows and Y/N sat back far into the seat, keeping herself low.  He tried to speed up but the car was no longer able to go any faster.  The two cars alongside them tried to box them in to slow them down, but Bucky veered into the one on the right, sending them off the road and into the ditch, causing it to roll.  Y/N was bracing herself in the back, twisting to face the other car and keeping the gun steady in her hand.  She saw a panel open on the car on its side, and a thick pole starting to come out of the opening.

“Battering ram!” she screamed, moving to the opposite side of the car as fast as she could.

Bucky looked and saw the pole rear back.  He stepped on the brake to make it so the battering ram would only fit the front of the car, launching himself into the backseat just as it made contact with them.  He tried to wrap himself around Y/N but the car jolted to the right, making it skid at high speed before rolling on the cement then off the road.  The crashing, scraping and glass breaking was deafening.  Bucky felt himself bouncing around the cabin of the car, trying to protect his head then feeling himself fall from the car out the broken front window.  He rolled in the dirt and grass until he finally came to a stop, trying to catch his breath.  He did a quick inventory of himself, moving his fingers, toes, rolling his ankles, wrists, making sure everything could move.  His head was pounding, most likely a concussion, but other than bumps, bruises and scars he was miraculously okay.

He looked around and saw the car a good thirty feet away, upside down and smoking.  He got up and ran over to the car, dropping to his knees and trying to look inside.  “Y/N!  Y/N?” he called out, trying to move debris out of the way to see.  He heard a moan and used his vibranium arm to start ripping at pieces of the car.  After a few minutes he was able to move enough out of the way that he could see Y/N.  She was wedged between the roof of the car and the backseat that had warped in the crash, pushing against her belly dangerously.  Bucky gasped and crawled into the car.  “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted her, trying to keep his voice calm.  “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he said, reaching out and touching her face.  “Can you hear me?”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, looking around in shock.  “Yeah,” she said simply.

“Okay, do an inventory,” he instructed her.  “Where’s the pain?”

Y/N subtly moved her fingers, wrists, toes and ankles like he had done, slightly rolling her neck.  “Just…sore, but my stomach hurts real bad,” she said, looking down.  She gasped when she saw the seat pressed hard against her pregnant belly.  “Buck!  Get it off!”

“I’m trying, Mamas, just give me a second,” he said, then felt someone pulling at his feet.  “Fuck!  NO!” he screamed as multiple hands started pulling at his feet and legs, pulling him away from Y/N.  She reached out for him but he was too far.  He was hoisted out of the car, surrounded by multiple men.  He swung, taking out two with his vibranium arm before kicking the two behind him.  He fought hard, but they were nearly meeting him in strength, taking him by surprise.  The fighting was making his head pound harder at the exertion.  One particularly hard punch to one of the agents’ faces produced a dark green blood to spurt from his lip.  Bucky looked at him in shock.

“Enough Sergeant Barnes!” one of them yelled out.

He turned and saw one of the agents knelt down by the car, pointing his gun at Y/N, who was struggling to push off the seat on her.  “Don’t,” he stepped forward.

The agent pushed his hand into the car through the broken window, pushing the gun against her head, making her freeze.  “Come with us, and she gets to live,” he sneered.

Bucky glared at him, assessing the situation.  He was starting to feel queasy at the pressure in his head, and he blinked rapidly, panting breaths as he looked around at all of them.  Then he heard it…a sound above them that the others hadn’t heard or recognized.  He smirked.  “No, we’re leaving,” he said.

The agent looked at him puzzledly before he suddenly stiffened, an electric shock going through him, falling with a thud to the dirt.  The other agents looked around in panic, shouting at each other as each of them were shocked and fell.  The air vibrated above Bucky as he looked up and the cloaking on the Talon cleared away to reveal itself.  He heaved a sigh of relief and ran back to the car.  He lifted it enough to help free Y/N from being pinned against the seat, her body falling to the roof of the car.  She slowly crawled her way out and he dropped the car before picking her up and running toward the Talon as it opened the stairway.  He helped get her seated before turning to the motherboard.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Shuri’s voice echoed through the cabin.  “Are you both alright?”

“Alive,” Bucky replied.  “Just set course for Sibiu, Romania.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come here?” she asked.

“I’d love to, but the checkpoint is Sibiu,” he said quickly, rubbing his temple.  

A chittering sound was heard and then a scan of both of them appeared momentarily.  “Barnes, you’re going to want to come here first.”

“It’s just a concussion, I’ll heal,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Not for you,” Shuri replied quietly.

Bucky froze and then looked behind him at Y/N.  She wasn’t moving, one hand settled on her heart and the other on her belly, her brow furrowed and her mouth slightly agape.  “O-okay,” he agreed, and the Talon moved.  He walked over to her and kneeled down in front of her.  “What’s wrong, Mamas?” he asked cautiously.

Y/N blinked.  “He’s not moving.”

Bucky swallowed harshly.  “I’m sure he’s just resting after all we just went through.”

Y/N shook her head.  “Scan fetus,” she called out loudly to the Talon.

The system on board chittered again before speaking in a clear Xhosa accent.  “Scan complete.  Fetus has suffered from a placenta abruption and fetal trauma.  Fetus is, unfortunately, deceased.”

Y/N’s eyes shut tight, a shaky huff falling from her lips.  “Thank you,” she whispered.  Her hands fell away from her belly and her chest, hanging limply at her sides as her head leaned back against the wall behind her.  Bucky blinked rapidly, staring at her still very pregnant belly.  Dead?  The baby was just…gone?  All those doctors appointments, the long nights crying over her boyfriend up and leaving her, how she and Bucky had gushed over how cute the baby clothes and accessories were, getting the nursery ready that she would now never use, all of it just…done.  Y/N looked like she physically deflated at the news, but there were no tears.  Bucky watched her carefully as he reached up and took one of her hands.  

“Pretty girl,” he said, rubbing her knuckles.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

She didn’t react, her eyes still closed as she breathed evenly.  “It’s okay,” she murmured.  “Would have slowed us down, anyway.”

Bucky blinked at her in surprise, but he knew that this was her way of coping at the moment.  If there was anything they had learned about each other while being mission partners was being able to read one another, knowing each other’s tells, ticks, what buttons not to push, and in moments of severe trauma or pressure how they coped.  She wasn’t feeling safe enough to grieve just yet, so he didn’t push it.  He just leaned forward and laid his head on her knee, his other hand gripping her ankle.  She inhaled deeply at that, and her free hand reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp like she would during his worst nightmares.  They sat like that the whole way back to Wakanda.

@vioplay19 @mrsnikstan @scott-loki-barnes @tufflepuff23

[starsfic]

One Pig's Mad Dash

Summary: @draw-of-the-moon's Chimera Parents AU:

Pigsy just had to suggest that the kids come along to his family's farmhouse with him and Tang. He just had to go to the store. Hopefully, Chimera will never learn that he let their kids get kidnapped. (Or, Tang opens a scroll labeling the locations of four golden weapons, only for him and Nya to get kidnapped by skeletons. Kai is recruited by a mysterious old man to learn spinjitzu, and Pigsy has child leashes for all three of them.)

“Oh, this is great! Smell that fresh air!”

It had been a long time since Pigsy had come to Gao Village. His family owned a house or two there, passed down from Zhu Bajie’s wife, Blue Orchid, but Pigsy had found more excuses over the years to stay away from it once he understood the story of his ancestor (and past life). Now, however, he couldn’t help it.

The summer house was lovely, having been well-maintained over the years. It had stayed mostly the same since it was first built in the Tang dynasty, but someone (he was willing to bet his cousin who had visited the American South once as a teenager and never got over it) had installed more modern things, like a nice big front porch that had a lovely view of the surrounding growing fields. The town was an hour or two’s drive away, leaving the Zhu family with peace and quiet.

“Grandadsy,” Kai sighed as he closed the door. “We get plenty of fresh air back home,” Nya made a noise of agreement as she followed her brother. “You don’t have to keep pretending this isn’t to get one over on Yeye Demon Bull.”

“Rude,” Pigsy scoffed as Tang took the key he offered and headed to unlock the door, leaving him to wrap his arms around the younger two and pull them close. “Rude, rude kids. Of course, I want to spend time with you.” Sure, he was a little annoyed at all the grandkid time that Red’s parents had been getting recently, but it was fine.

“Hey!” Tang called from the door before Kai or Nya could answer beyond giggles. “Come on, the car’s not gonna unpack itself, and I’m hungry!”

Pigsy sighed, releasing the siblings so they could do as commanded, marching up to his husband. “I don’t have all the ingredients for noodles, yet, Tang,” he said. Tang sighed with a pout. “I’ll need to drive to the grocery store after we finish unpacking. Think you can survive until then?”

Tang groaned, clearly fighting back a smile. “Fine,” he said, moving to help Nya and Kai. “It’s not like the house is gonna blow up the moment you turn your back.”

Ugh, he shouldn’t tempt fate like that. Before Pigsy could dwell on that, an argument drifted in the wind.

“You have a way too big backpack.”

“Well, yours is small! What do you have in there, just your lipstick?”

Pigsy sighed and headed to help Tang and the grandkids before Nya froze Kai again. He didn’t bring the icepick.

-_-

It was easy enough to unpack everything, including all the food they had brought. With that, Pigsy said farewell and headed out for the grocery store for supplementary ingredients.

The moment Pigsy's car disappeared, Tang turned to Kai and Nya with a grin. "Wanna see something cool?"

"Yeah!"

"Absolutely!"

"Great!" Tang led them to the kitchen table, where he had set the poster container down. "Now, nobody except the museums knows I have this yet. I'm gonna be studying this with the Ninjago Museum of History for an upcoming exhibit."

"Yeye, stop teasing us!" Kai groaned. "Show us the cool thing!"

"Alright, alright!" Tang fished out a pair of gloves from the container and then pulled out what looked to be an aged scroll. "In Japan, there used to be a religious order of ninja who believed that their founder created the world with four golden weapons. After a battle with evil, he supposedly hid these weapons in secret locations across the country and created a map to hide them." The scroll unrolled, revealing a map. Four weapons, drawn in gold, were set in different spots across the map. "If this is true, this will be the biggest archaeological discovery in Japan!"

Nya paused, her excitement fading to be replaced with confusion. "If this is Japanese, then why is it in China?"

"Well, considering my expertise in magical McGuffins," Tang smiled proudly as the two young adults sighed. "They wanted me to look it over and maybe talk to some of the older demons and see if they knew anything-” He paused, looking around.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, do you feel that?”

Kai looked around. “What?”

“The rumbling.”

“I don’t.” Something crashed, hard enough to shake the kitchen and its inhabitants. Kai landed on his butt, looking widely around as Nya grabbed Tang, both of them steadying themselves with each other. Now, the rumbling was audible, like when Long Xiaojiao raced against huge trucks, but close enough that Kai could feel the rumbling in his teeth. “Now I do!”

“What is-”

Nya’s shrieked question was cut off as the front of a truck dug into the house.

-_-

Welp, pickings had been scrawny at the store on the basis of snacks, but at least they had fresh vegetables and animal bones! It had been a long time since Pigsy had thought of freshly roasted marrow, but now he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Animal bones were pretty rare for human consumption in Wàn Qiān Chéng, since they were mostly reserved for carrion-eating demons, but not out here. It would be a great treat!

That was the last Pigsy thought of dinner when he turned the corner and saw the yard.

It looked like someone had taken a bulldozer, several bulldozers in fact, and had a fight with them. Dirt and grass had been churned up and spat up to make a massive mess. The front of the house looked bashed in to boot. All around the area were tracks of those bulldozers and footprints. Pigsy parked at the edge of the mess and stumbled out.

Fear gripped his throat tight. He had been terrified when Flower Fruit Mountain had been destroyed, yeah, but that didn't compare to the horror at staring at his family home destroyed in such a violent way. Even worse, he couldn't hear any of his family.

"Tang?! Kai!" Pigsy scrambled for the house, waiting for anyone to respond. "NYA!" His shout for his youngest grandchild produced nothing but horrible silence, his yell echoing off the landscape.

They were gone.

Pigsy turned away from the kitchen and looked around, biting back the urge to cry. Instead, he studied the ground. He had brushed up on his tracking and foraging skills after the run-in with Scorpion Queen, not wanting to miss something and be caught off-guard.

There were the tire tracks, yes, but also footprints. Most were unfamiliar bootprints that were like the Bull Clones’, paired with weird shuffling marks that went back and forth. However, a familiar sneaker pattern was at the very edge of the scene, decorated with little flames that matched the boots Red Son wore. It walked away, towards the road, next to a pair of what looked like slipper prints.

Someone or something had burst in and taken his husband and his grandchildren, at least Nya and Tang. Kai had walked away with someone. Pigsy felt his hands clench into fists. His first instinct was to call his son, let him know what happened, but he held firm. If he did that, if he proved to be so irresponsible-

No. He could kiss time with his grandkids goodbye.

Pigsy pulled out his phone and dialed the fourth number. “Wukong?” He said as the monkey picked it up with a yawn. “You still have the number of that construction company?”

Wukong was hesitant when Pigsy revealed what happened. He pushed against the plan as Pigsy moved around the kitchen and rustled through their bags, ears on autopilot as he raided his cooking supplies. He wanted to rush over and help Pigsy track down Kai. He wanted to tell Qi Xiaotian, Long Xiaojiao, and Red Son.

“No,” Pigsy huffed, stuffing some seasoning packets in the front pocket of Kai’s backpack. “The kids aren’t expecting us back until by the end of July. I have plenty of time to track them down.” And beat their asses. “I got this handled. Just fix the house.”

“Okay, but, you know Xiaojiao is gonna check her tra-” Before Wukong could finish, Pigsy hung up, right as his phone buzzed. Pigsy glanced back, wondering if Wukong had called him back to finish whatever he was going to say and winced when Wukong’s name wasn’t the name flashing on the screen. 

Xiaojiao, as if summoned, was calling.

He dismissed the call and shoved the bile of guilt down his throat. He had until the end of July. It would be fine. 

Pigsy picked up his wok and smiled at the pulse of energy he was greeted with. He wasn’t exactly sure how the rake worked, shifting from rake weapon to simple wok, but he wasn’t going to leave it behind in the face of whatever had taken his family.

He made one last stop at the van. In a storage container, pushed to the corner, was a bunch of emergency supplies, as well as three things that he had thought would be left in the past. Once those were wrapped up and shoved in the backpack, Pigsy took in a deep breath and let it out, slowly. This was it.

It was Pigsy’s turn to have a solo adventure.

He set off after those tracks.

-_-

Two months later…

This had somehow been the most fun and most nerve-wracking few weeks Kai had experienced.

In the wake of the skeletons’ attack on the house, taking Yeye Tang and Nya with them as well as the map to those crazy weapons, Master Wu had offered his hand. He was apparently from the religious ninja sect that his yeye had mentioned and he had been following both the map and him for a bit. He wanted to train Kai as a ninja to prevent the rise of his brother, Lord Garmadon. The same lord was bound to have Tang and Nya. 

Kai, who had been helpless in the attack beyond a few fireballs, agreed. After a quick note scrawled to Grandadsy, he had followed Wu into the forest. It had taken a few days and a boat trip, but they soon arrived at the monastery where Kai’s training began.

And then he had met his classmates.

Kai wasn’t really sure what to make of them at first. He had teamed up with Nya for so long that not having her by his side felt like a missing limb, only to be replaced by three too many. Cole was a stick in the mud, Zane was robotic that went beyond being a teacher’s pet, and Jay was way too chatty and interested in Nya the moment Kai mentioned her. Their team was shaky with the fact that Kai was the newcomer, used to being either a solo or duet act, while the other three knew each other well.

But that couldn’t last, not with determination and friendship. Over their time together, he would like to say that they had worked on their teamwork. They were still a little shaky, like fawns getting up on their legs, but Kai would say he trusted them. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be shaking his hips with Jay as Cole tapped out a rhythm on the drums he pulled from seemingly nowhere. Zane laughed along as Master Wu meditated, a scowl on his lips.

“Come on, shifu!” Kai said, holding out his hand. “Join us!” 

The answer he received was an annoyed scoff. "There is still one weapon left! We must get our sleep!"

Kai didn't even have to look to see Jay jump in, grabbing their shifu's shoulder and giving it a light shake. "Aww, Sensei. Look, you gotta admit, we're kicking their boney butts." Yeah! They had gotten three of the four weapons and the temple of fire was an hour or two’s walk. By this time tomorrow, the world would be safe. It wouldn’t be a little ridiculous to relax, right?

Kai nodded. "Get up here. Show us some moves!"

Wu looked at them and seemed to fold at their hopeful faces, his annoyed scowl disappearing into a lighter look. "I guess I could," he said, allowing Jay to help him up. "Now, this move is very special." He started to dance, seeming to prefer more martial moves than regular dance moves.

Zane spoke up before he could laugh at the silly dance. "But if done incorrectly, will it lead to disastrous consequences?"

Cheers went up around the campfire and Kai's heart had never felt so full of friendship. "Zane, is that a joke? A sense of humor... you found it!" He wrapped his arm around his white-gied friend, rubbing their cheek together, and only realized a second later, with Cole’s snort, how strange it must be. It was a little slip-up, considering he hadn't revealed his non-human form to his friends, but Zane seemed to soak up the affection with a pleased hum.

All the while, Master Wu sang and danced.

"Shake what your momma gave you. Yeah, look at this one now. Hmm... oh yeah. Spin round. Oh yeah. I put my feet-"

Kai didn't notice the circle of rope before Wu put his foot down.

"-dowAHHH!"

The yank happened too fast for Kai to realize what happened before a clang and a cry of pain came out of the darkness.

"Master Wu!" Cole jumped up and nearly ran into the darkness after their shifu, stopped only by Zane grabbing the back of his gi and pulling him close to the light of the fire. "Who's there!" Cole yelled out instead, holding up his fists. The others followed suit, glaring out. "If you come out peacefully, we won't hurt you!"

A noise that sounded faintly like a grunt of annoyance answered Cole, close to him. Kai shoved Jay towards the others, looking around. His ears tensed, listening for any noise, any movement, anything that suggested Master Wu was alright or the attacker was…well, attacking. “Come out with your hands up, and we won’t hurt you!” Kai allowed his hands to flame up.

Cole gasped behind him, but Kai glared into the darkness, waiting and ready. Bushes rustling and more grunts hit his ears before he leaned forward, hoping to catch sight of them, turning his body to follow the noises.

A faint smell hit his nose.

At first, it was just dirt, sweat, and the general smell of someone who hadn’t showered in days, like Bama or Baba when they got too deep in a groove with a project. But, underneath, was the earthy, rich smell of herbs, broth, and…noodles?

Realization struck the moment he looked across the fire and realized that the other three were huddled together with wide eyes. “It’s right behind you,” Jay squeaked, gripping on Cole’s arm so tight that it had to have been bruised.

Kai looked up.

He almost didn’t recognize the tall figure. He didn’t take this huge form often.

It was a shame that he didn’t recognize what he was holding before the demon lunged-

And the child leash clicked around him.

Realization came in slowly. At first, it was confusion. Why was Grandadsy here? Kai had left a note explaining everything! Then it was shock. His grandadsy, who complained about his back at least once a day, had knocked out a martial arts master. Then came in the indigent rage.

“A child leash? A CHILD’S LEASH!?” Kai began to scramble, just wanting the cursed thing off. Surely, it might’ve been acceptable when he was going through that weird phase of wanting to be like Yeye Demon Bull, but not when he was fifteen! “Let me out! Let me go!” He struggled furiously, trying his best to rip it or tear it off, dirt kicking up under his wriggling feet. Annoyingly, the damn thing didn’t even strain. Neither did Pigsy, glaring at the other ninja.

Kai bit at it, yanked at it, even allowed his disguise to fall away, revealing his true height. The child’s leash wasn’t built for that! There were some shocked gasps, but he didn’t dare look. His focus was on the cursed child’s leash!

Finally, he had to yield. Despite the strain and tears, the child leash held firm. He couldn’t even try to unlock the leash, since the lock was magical. 

He collapsed onto the forest floor to pant air into his lungs, totally ignoring how he probably looked like a toddler denied a sweet that entire time. “What are you doing here, Grandadsy?” he asked instead once air was in his lungs.

“I could ask the same thing of you,” the giant boar said, stepping into the firelight. “What were you thinking, running off with some random old guy?! You didn’t even call me!”

Kai scoffed, crossing his arms. “You let Baba run off with a random old guy all the time.” The second part made him raise a brow. “You didn’t find my note? I left it…” Huh, where did he leave it? He swore he left it…

“OKAY, TIMEOUT!” All heads turned to Cole. He took in a deep breath, looking from him to his grandadsy and back again as if he were missing an important piece to his puzzle, with brows furrowed together and his mouth pressed in a thin line. “He’s your grandfather?”

Oh boy. Here came the questions. Kai nodded anyway.

Jay spoke up, raising a brow. “And you’re a demon.”

Kai nodded again. “A yaogui, technically.” He didn’t mention that, technically, he was half yao, because he had never quite understood it.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Cole asked, his tone bordering on pissed or just confused.

Kai opened his mouth. Before he could, Zane spoke up. “Considering the amount of racism that exists in Japan against yokai and yokai-bordering people, where the Chinese yaogui fall under that umbrella, and Kai’s lack of knowledge about us and our views about, might it be assumed it would be safer to keep it quiet.” He turned his gaze, which bordered on soft, to him. “Am I correct?”

Uh… “Well, no, not really, I just didn’t think about it,” Kai shrugged. “I mean, yeah, I didn’t want to waste time with questions with Nya and Yeye Tang being held hostage.”

“Speaking of questions, I have a few,” Grandadsy huffed. “But,” he yanked on a rope, yanking Master Wu back into the firelight. The old man was groaning, so he was still alive, just with a massive bruise. “First, I think you guys need food. I can see your abs.”

Cole wrapped his arms around his chest self-consciously. “And what if we don’t want to?” Jay said boldly.

Grandadsy hefted up his wok. Jay made a little noise. Grandadsy, however, just shrugged. “Then you don’t eat. Now, Kai, can you grab your backpack? I have supplies.”

“What supplies?” Kai asked, reaching up and grabbing his backpack. “We’re out in the woods.” What tumbled out of his backpack was a load of ingredients, including a bag full of noodles.

“How?”

“I’ll explain it when we eat.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes after that, with Cole tending to Master Wu's goose egg and Jay and Zane running errands as Grandadsy cooked and Kai chopped or smoked. Jay finally broke it with "...so, your sister. Does she also have horns? A pig tail?" He held up his hands. "Not a deal breaker, just curious."

"Nah, she has antlers though."

Jay seemed to pause for a second before nodding, eyes glittering in the firelight. "Alright! Okay, I can work with that!" There was a pause, long enough for Grandadsy to snort, probably realizing the question that was coming. “...So, is she like... a deer?”

“Nah, a dragon. A long specifically.”

Jay paused for a few more seconds, clearly thinking. “How does that happen?”

“My parents are in a polycule, so we have the same bull bama but she has a dragon mama while I have a baba.” Here came the questions. 

“So, it’s safe to assume that, if your bama is a bull,” Jay said, eyeing the horns that continued to gleam, even when Kai had shrunk down. “Then your baba is a-”

“Monkey.”

“-pig excuse me?”

Kai nodded to Grandadsy. “He was adopted by him.”

Zane nodded, seeming to understand already. Jay looked like he had even more questions, but a groan turned his eyes away. Master Wu sat up, rubbing his head. “What in the world-”

SMACK.

Master Wu collapsed again, the spoon whirling back to Pigsy like a boomerang. “Is he important?” he asked, gesturing to the old man. “I haven’t received an explanation for what’s going on.”

Right.

Kai took in a deep breath and prayed that Grandadsy wouldn’t be too annoyed.

-_-

Pigsy was awoken by a slap on the arm. 

“Grandadsy,” Kai whispered. He was tempted to ignore it, but there was another slap on his arm. “Pigsy.” That made him crack an eye- ever since the battle with Azure Lion, Qi Xiaotian had never referred to him as Pigsy again, preferring Dad or Dadsy. He groaned, turning his head. Kai stared at him, eyes scrunched up in concern. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Kai pressed a finger to his lips in a shushing moment. Pigsy closed his mouth. They waited. And then, out of the silence of chirping crickets and the snores of the ninja…

“Kai.” They both craned their heads. In the bushes, her face hidden by shadow, was the red of Nya’s top. Now that she had gotten their attention, she turned. “I have to go.”

Okay, this is a trap.

After learning about the golden weapons, Lord Garmadon, and everything that this Master Wu had dragged his grandson into, Pigsy was on guard for traps. Garmadon sounded like a knock-off of Macaque, of course there was gonna be traps. There was no way he was going to think Kai was dead for a few hours.

“We need to go after her,” Kai whispered.

“Kid, she’s obviously a trap.” Pigsy sat up anyway. Kai had the glint in his eye that suggested that if he said no, he was going to go anyway, damn the child leash. “Why would they just let her go?”

“I don’t know, but even if she’s a trap, she could lead us to Yeye Tang and the real Nya.”

…well, that was a good point.

“I’m getting up,” Pigsy grunted, wincing at the crackling sounds from his back. “Oh, I am too old for this…” He should’ve remembered to bring a sleeping bag. “Let’s go, kid.”

Kai was already running. Pigsy followed behind, keeping a tight grip on the child leash. Through the woods they ran, the moonlight sometimes allowing a glimpse of Nya or her voice drifting through the woods, beckoning Kai to follow her.

Finally, the woods parted, revealing a massive volcano with smoke pouring out of the top, glowing magma rolling down the sides but not touching the red temple built into the side. A few worn red gates decorated the bridge forward. By the time they hit the path, Nya was throwing open the door, with one last “Kai…” over her shoulder.

Yeah, this was a trap.

Kai guided them forward, and Pigsy allowed it. Kai pushed the door open with a eerie creak. Most of the room he revealed was flooded with lava, a menacing face carved out of stone at the end of the room, a wide gaping mouth revealing a golden katana that glowed with power. Pigsy didn’t even have to guess that was the sword of fire.

But Kai’s eyes were locked on Nya, smiling at them serenely. “Nya!” he called.

“Don’t worry,” his granddaughter cooed, her gentle smile twisting into something more mocking. “I’m right here…” Nya’s form began to shift and twist, growing bigger and darker, revealing to be nothing more than shadows. “Brother.”

Kai growled. “Garmadon.” He reached back and-

Shit. They had left their weapons.

“Forgotten something?” the supposed king of shadows (Macaque would have thoughts about that title) cooed, taking clear delight in the panic encasing them.

Kai took in a deep breath. “You can’t hurt us here! You’re banished, trapped in the Underworld!” Pigsy nodded, unable to help the spark of pride at Kai’s assertive tone. Still, he had a feeling. Hopefully, this wasn't going the way he thought it was going to go.

"And that is why you are going to remove the Sword of Fire for me."

Yeah, this was going the way he thought it would.

Kai announced in the cliche hero way "I don't think so!"

"Are you sure about that?"

A door in the ceiling opened, lowering a cage to dangle above the lava. Inside, huddling close together, were Nya and Tang. Both looked a mixture of terrified and furious, with Tang glaring out as he held Nya protectively close as she fiddled with the lock.

“NYA!”

“TANG!”

“Pigsy! Kai?!” Tang pushed himself against the bars, a sweet smile of relief forming across his face. It had only been a month or two, but to Pigsy, it had felt like a lifetime. “What are you doing here?!”

“Rescuing you two!”

Garmadon stepped between the duos, glaring down at Kai with delight. Pigsy had to admit, he had them good. If Xiaotian was here, he would do it in a heartbeat. “If you don’t remove the sword, how else will you cut the chain to save your precious little sister and grandfather?”

“Don’t listen to him, Kai!” Nya called, wriggling the lock harder. “You know it’s a trap! I can free myself-” With one hard yank, the bobby pin she had been using fell into the lava. “Okay, that’s tight-”

The cage fell, making Tang and Nya scream. “Tick tock, tick tock-”

“Wait.” 

That voice had sounded weirdly familiar through this entire thing, but now his mind was picking up where he had heard it before. Pigsy squinted. It was hard to make out any real details, but he had learned from Macaque, enough to pick out a few details. 

“Misako?”

Four “Huhs?” rolled through the temple.

“I’m not crazy, right? You’re Misako Garmadon.” He had only met Tang’s rival from the Ninjago Museum of History a few times and her husband even fewer times, but it was hard to forget his face. While he was handsome, he always looked really ill.

“It’s just Garmadon,” Tang corrected. The cage had stopped a few feet above the lava, which didn’t do anything for Pigsy’s heart, but spoke about Garmadon’s bafflement. “Misako took his name.”

“Are you sure?”

His husband shrugged. “Fairly? I’m still not sure if that’s his last name or first name. And…” Tang leaned forward and adjusted his glasses. “Oh! You’re right!” He chuckled. “I kept hearing the others say Lord Garmadon, but I never put the pieces together! How have you been?”

The shadow blinked, caught off guard by the little side tangent, before those red eyes narrowed. “I do not have time for this mindless little game,” he growled. “Get the sword, Kai.” Without another word, the chain began to lower even faster.

Kai glanced back at Pigsy. Pigsy nodded. There would be words later.

He released the leash.

Kai grinned and didn’t waste time, neither the time of the cage dropping or the free time Pigsy was giving him. He launched forward, darting from rock to rock, adding a backflip for extra points. The sword pulled from the stone easily, his feet slamming into the next wall. ���NINGAJO!” he called before spinning. A tornado of sparks and flames wrapped around him, heading straight to the plummeting cage.

The chain broke with a snap and the tornado caught the cage, slamming it against the wall. The fire cleared and all three sat, panting. “Kai!” Pigsy called, waving frantically. “Over here!”

“Coming!” Kai said, leaning back and grabbing Nya’s hand. “Stay close.”

"Trust me," Nya said, her voice having a tinge of fear. Tang reached forward and squeezed her free hand. "We're not going anywhere."

Pigsy looked around as his grandkids and husband inched their way towards the entrance. Garmadon had disappeared when Kai pulled out the sword. "Keep your eyes out." he called.

"Don't worry, Grandadsy," Kai said. "He can't hurt us here. He's only a shadow."

Macaque would definitely have words about that.

A dark chuckle echoed through the room. "Even shadows have their uses."

Nya saw the shadow stretch and move first. "Kai, look out!" Nya said, yanking her brother back in time to avoid a blade to the face as his shadow pulled away, glaring down at him with red eyes. Pigsy winced, feeling memories of a certain shadow play rise up. Based on Tang's look of discomfort, so did he.

"Stay back, Nya," Kai said, leaning forward in the pose that Xiaojiao must've taught him.

"Stay close, stay back. Make up your mind."

Tang pulled her into his hands. "Give your brother space, dear," he said.

Golden power encased them, and they disappeared in a flash, giving Kai more room for his duel. The moment they appeared before him and Tang started "Remind me to apologize to Xiaotian for giving him shit about forgetting his powers-" Pigsy was pulling them into his arms. He was still terrified and furious, but something in him eased. His family was here and, even if he had to strike them down, Pigsy would keep them safe.

Plus, it gave him an opening.

Tang looked down at the click and just sighed at the sight of the leash wrapped around him. Nya glanced down and, just like Kai, gaped. "A CHILD LEASH?!" she howled, piercingly enough that Kai and Garmadon both winced as Kai attempted to slash and cut the shadow versions of him. "I'M FOURTEEN!"

"Yeah, yeah, if your brother couldn't tear that off, neither can you-"

"Ahem." All turned, excluding Nya, who was focusing her rage on the child leash. Master Wu, supposedly, stared at them. "Please make room, I need to save Kai."

"Oh, uh-"

"Of course."

Master Wu nodded and marched forward. "Five yuans say that we have to save his ass," Pigsy whispered as the old man made his way to their grandson.

Tang chuckled. "You're on."

(He got five yuans, Jay mooning over Nya, and Cole glaring at Nya and Jay.)

-_-

The moment the farmhouse came into view, Pigsy felt himself melt with relief. Tang did too, even going as far as to sigh and then laugh. “We’re going to get away with this!” he chuckled, pulling out his wallet. “All we have to do is clean up and get into some normal clothes…” He slid the key into the lock. “And we can say that Kai and Nya made some new friends!”

“Uh…” Jay raised his hand. “We don’t have normal clothes.”

“Oh, we brought backups,” Pigsy said. Now that he was close to a bed, exhaustion was starting to eat at him. “It’ll be a little harder to explain the golden weapons, but we got it handled.”

“Yeah!” Tang pushed open the door. “And the kids will never-”

The lights clicked on and all of them froze.

Kai and Nya’s parents sat in the living room. The light had come from Xiaojiao, who sat in the armchair next to the light. Red sat in a rolly chair next to the doorway that led to the kitchen, and Xiaotian sat on the couch. All of them had unimpressed looks.

“The kids will never what, Tangy?” Xiaojiao cooed. Without another word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Pigsy didn’t even have to look at it to know what was pulled up on there.

Shit, he had forgotten about the tracker.

Pigsy’s first reaction was to turn and run out of the house. He knew it was a very short-term solution, especially when Xiaojiao started running, but it was a solution. Before he even stepped foot on the porch, his arm came down with a sudden yank. He glanced over his shoulder.

Kai and Nya, both laying on the floor, smiled innocently at him.

Oh, those little-

“Pigsy~” Xiaojiao cooed, eyes glowing green. Pigsy tried to release the leashes, but in all the chaos and to prevent him from accidentally releasing one of them, he wrapped the handles so tight that his hand was turning purple. He tried to take another step, but the kids seemed to get heavier somehow. A hand grabbed his shoulder.

“You and the other adults are in so much trouble,” Xiaotian whispered. “Surrender.”

Pigsy held up his hands with a sigh.

“I know.”

[impala-dreamer]

Save Me - Part Two

A Short Story

~ Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen's fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.~

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader, Dean Winchester (cameos by Misha Collins and OCs)

7,160 Words Total. Part Two: 3,950

Warnings: My kind of Super Angst. Blood. Injury. Kidnapping. It's really sad...

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "No one's coming to save you. Get up!"

PART ONE ~ PART TWO

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Snow was falling from a gray sky. Big flakes landed on his shoulders, dusted his hair, melted on his cheeks. His lips were frozen; his fingers numb. 

The cherry of his cigarette fell to the icy sidewalk and he huffed. He fumbled with the lighter and lit back up, pulling at the filter as if he were trying to set his lungs on fire. 

Maybe he was. Maybe he wanted to set the hotel on fire, the police station, the entire city.

Jensen tipped his head back and exhaled, sending the smoke to mix with the clouds overhead.

“When did you start smoking again?” 

Misha appeared next to him, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a jacket. He was visibly cold, bouncing a bit for warmth even as he settled next to Jensen. 

“I don’t know. When did the world implode? Four days ago?” He licked his lip and then took another drag. “Then.” 

Misha shook his head sadly and Jensen rolled his eyes. 

He flicked the butt into the street and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Put your coat on at least,” Misha suggested, tapping his shoulder with the jacket. 

Jensen looked down at it as if he’d never seen anything like it. 

“No.” 

Misha sighed. “It’s freezing. You’re gonna get sick.” 

“So?” 

Not wanting to fight, Misha draped the jacket over Jensen’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. 

“Y/N needs you to be strong. You can’t go off and get pneumonia.” 

Jensen turned his head and glared; green eyes narrow and angry. “She doesn’t need me to be strong. She needs me to fucking find her.” His jaw clenched so hard he could feel his pulse beat in his temples. “She needs me to save her.” 

Heartbroken, Misha closed his eyes and dropped his head. “I know. But there’s nothing you can do right now.” 

Jensen scoffed. “Isn’t there?” 

“No. The police are-” 

Enraged, defeated, hopeless, Jensen spun away, kicking at the snow and pushing Misha’s care away. “The police aren’t doing shit! It’s been four fucking days!” 

“I know…”

“They can’t even figure out who took her. The fucking- the security cameras in the parking garage weren’t fucking working! What the fuck good is that!”

The louder Jensen’s voice grew, the smaller Misha felt. There was nothing he could say, no way to comfort his friend. 

Jensen wouldn’t be comforted even if Misha knew how. He wanted to rage at the universe. To put his fist through the brick wall behind him. To drive a truck through the Starbucks across the street. To run away from everyone and everything in this godforsaken city and find her. He had to find her. 

A snowflake landed on his nose and he batted it away, slapping himself in the face. 

He calmed. 

His heart ached.

His voice crackled with tears. 

“Odds are,” he whispered, “She’s dead already.” 

“Don’t say that.” Misha choked back his own pain and cleared his throat. “The detective said there’s no reason to assume-”

Jensen laughed bitterly. “Forty-eight hours, isn’t that what they say? If you don’t find them in the first forty-eight hours you’re not going to. Or they turn up dead on the side of the road or in a shallow grave behind some psycho’s house.” 

“Jensen…” 

Green eyes closed to the world. 

He was trembling, shaking from the cold and the pain of uncertainty and loss. 

“I just…I don’t know what to do.” 

They stood there in silence, letting January seep into their bones. There was nothing to say, nothing either of them could do. 

It just was what it was. 

And it was impossible. 

A deep shiver moved through Jensen’s body and he shoved his arms through the jacket sleeves, thankful that Misha was looking out for him and the little things. He was too shattered to care about staying alive. Not right now. 

He turned back to his friend and the revolving doors, deciding it was time to go back in and shake away the cold. 

Flashing lights pulled his attention to the street and he held his breath as the police car turned into the hotel lot. The world moved in slow motion as the car parked in the nearby handicapped spot and Detective Lassiter hopped out. He held a clear bag in his thick fist and his countenance was heavy. He looked at Jensen and shook his head. 

Jensen’s universe cracked. He bit his tongue, needing to feel the pain to keep himself conscious as the detective explained what had happened. 

“They’re not asking for a ransom,” he said, speech rushed and emotionless. “Not yet, anyway. But this- this is good.” He handed the bag to Jensen. 

Y/N’s diamond engagement ring glistened in the dim gray light. 

Jensen closed his fist around it. The platinum prongs dug into his palm. “How?” His voice broke. “How is this good?”  

“Means they want something. They’re not just going to kill her and be done. This is the kidnappers opening a line of communication.” 

Jensen couldn’t hear him, couldn’t follow his words any longer. His fist tightened and the diamond cut through the thin evidence bag. He squeezed until it hurt, until his skin broke, until he could feel the warm trickle of blood. 

A drop fell from his fist and painted the freshly fallen snow.

It was hard to stay awake, hard to think. 

The pain was still there, but she couldn’t feel it much anymore. It didn’t feel as intense, as if she were getting used to the constant stabbing and shredding of her insides that accompanied every breath she took.  

She couldn’t feel the cold anymore either. Her flesh had simply become part of the concrete, all of her warmth had been drained into the darkness. 

In and out of the dreamless sleep of unconsciousness, she lay on the dirty floor, barely able to think let alone move. 

“Why you?” she whispered, watching burgundy flannel pace back and forth by the steps. 

Dean stopped short, his boots making a dull thud on the floor. 

“What?” 

She lifted her head, cringed at the hurt that erupted in her shoulder. 

“I said, why is it you?” 

His forehead creased and he shrugged. “I don’t know. Who else would it be?” 

Y/N rubbed her right eye. It was dry and it hurt to blink. She was dehydrated and starving; her body was failing, her mind was slipping. 

“It’s just odd, I guess.”

Dean sat on the bottom step, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t think it’s that weird. You need someone to talk to, you need someone to help. I’m pretty good at that shit.” 

Y/N sighed. “But you don’t exist. I’m just talking to myself.” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Not really.”

“There should have been way more demon Dean.” 

Jensen laughed and shot her a look that would have knocked her over had she not already been sitting down. 

The couch cushion between them seemed as wide as an ocean, but neither were ready to swim across. 

“You like bad boys, huh?” He licked his lips and watched hers as she answered. 

“I guess everybody does at some point,” she said. “But there was something special about Dean as a demon. It was like… he was finally free for a little while. Like he was on vacation. Just hanging out and getting laid-”

Jensen grinned. “And murdering innocent people.”  

She dipped her chin and looked up at him flirtatiously. “Is anyone ever truly innocent, Jensen?” 

His smile faded and he stared harder. His lips parted slowly. “Are you?” 

She blinked, painted lashes fanning over enchanting eyes. “I can be when I need to be.” 

Her hand slid across the space between them and she bit her lip, daring him to match her move, begging him to meet her halfway. 

He dropped his hand to the cushion, fingers landing a breath away from hers. 

“What about right now?” he asked, leaning close. 

She could feel the heat pushing off of him, smell the lingering scent of his faded cologne. 

“Honestly?” she smirked. 

He nodded. “Always.” 

Y/N leaned in dangerously close. “I’m not feeling too innocent right now.” 

A tentative kiss. The first taste of his lips; the first feel of her skin.

There were footsteps above her head. Someone running; heavy shoes falling on old wooden planks. 

Y/N lay on her back and stared up at nothing. There were long beams above her and she wondered what it would take for them to come crashing down and crush her to death. 

It wasn’t that she wanted to die, she’d never want that, but she knew it was happening. She could feel her body giving up. Her skin was hot but she shivered. Her blood had dried but the wounds wouldn’t stay closed. Her thoughts were fuzzy and shadows played tricks on her.

She couldn’t tell how long it had been since they’d tossed her down the steps; didn’t know how far from help she was. Time meant nothing. It could have been hours, a month, a week mostly likely. There was no way for her to guess. No windows to help count the sunsets, no ticking clock to pace her breaths to. 

Sometimes, she counted her heartbeats just to have something to do, but they were unsteady. Too fast at times and then far too slow. It scared her to pay attention to the erratic pulse of her blood, so she tried to ignore it. 

Mostly, she remembered things. 

Mostly, she remembered him. 

In moments when the pain overwhelmed her and her eyes refused to stop leaking, she would pull up his face, try to remember the placement of every freckle, count each thick eyelash. She could still feel his hands on her skin, smell his breath first thing in the morning. She could taste the salt on his neck after a workout, hear his delicate whispers in the heat of night. But his eyes were fading away. She couldn’t get the shade right in her mind; couldn’t remember what shirt made them darker, what time of day they looked the lightest.  

The green was washing away. 

Last winter. A break in filming. Sand beneath their feet; ocean breeze filling their lungs. 

The sun was so bright it hurt her eyes, but she refused to close them, unwilling to miss one single second of time with him. 

He was already burning in the sun; his shoulders tanning, his chest turning red. Every now and then, he’d take off and run into the water, dip below the perfect blue horizon and cool off. She loved those moments the best, when he came back to her dripping and laughing, his hair wet and slicked back behind his jet-fin ears. 

He’d always come back to her, always fall down over her, hold himself up on his big arms and let the ocean water dribble down onto her bare stomach. He’d block the sun for a few precious moments, and all she could see was the halo around him and the love in his eyes. 

“Y/N…” 

She couldn’t open her eyes. They felt so heavy, so dry. It was all so pointless. 

“Y/N, wake up, sweetheart.” 

Dean was hovering again, crouched down at her side. His giant hand was hovering over her forehead as if checking her temperature like a mother would for her child. 

“Don’t- don’t call me that,” she croaked. Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with his worried smile. 

“What should I call you then?” 

“A cab.” 

He laughed softly. “You’re still funny. That’s good.” 

“Is it?” 

She tried to sit up but her spine felt like gelatin. She tried to speak but her throat was ripped to shreds. She tried to cry but her eyes were dry and nothing came out. Her shoulders shook and she moaned pitifully. 

Dean’s jaw clenched, dimples popped above his lip. “You gotta get out of here. You’re not doin’ so well.” 

Y/N curled in on herself, knees and shoulders meeting somewhere in the middle. “Go away.” 

“No.” 

She covered her face. 

He shifted onto his knees. “You gotta get up and find a way out.” 

“There is no way out. We’ve looked a hundred times.” 

He exhaled hard, frustrated and desperate. “You gotta try again. You gotta get out.”

Her eyes fell closed again, her breathing slowed. “He’ll find me. He’ll save me…”

Y/N was still confused when the elevator door opened. Jensen had refused to tell her where they were going or why they were dressed like they were being photographed for GQ. 

‘Wear that purple dress,’ he’d said on the phone with no explanation why. 

Her hand clasped in his, they stepped out into a large empty ballroom. Floor to ceiling windows looked out on a gray morning; the L.A. smog was thick and hung like rain clouds in the sky.

Jensen led her deep into the room and turned to face her. He was nervous, she could tell. His chewed his bottom lip, rubbed his thumb over her hand quickly, breathed a little too fast. 

She laughed gently. “What’s going on?” 

He took a big, calming breath. 

He licked his lips and smiled. 

“Eighteen months ago, we were both here for that HBO after party. You wore this purple dress and I was wearing…” He looked down at his crisp black button down and charcoal slacks. “Well, this.” 

She smiled. “I remember. It was the first time we met.” 

He swallowed hard and held her hand in both of his. His palms were damp. 

“But what you don’t know is that I saw you the very second you walked in.” He bit the corner of his mouth and took a second to collect his racing thoughts. “I was over there by the window talking to Eric and you walked in… It was like the crowd opened up for you. Every head turned; the music stopped.” 

“I don’t think it was that much of an entrance,” she laughed. 

“It was for me.” 

Her heart raced. 

“Jen, what’s going on?” 

He smiled and bent down to kiss her lips. He held her face in his hands, ran his thumbs lightly over her cheeks. She kissed him back, licking at his plump lips.

“I wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he whispered. 

Her eyes fluttered open and all she saw was green.

“And this…” 

He let her go and dropped down onto one knee. 

He took her hand. 

She held her breath. 

“Marry me, Y/N…”

“I need you to calm down.” 

Detective Lassiter was tucked behind his messy desk, his beer gut smushed against the edge. 

Jensen refused to relax. He paced in front of the man’s desk, his hands rushing through his hair; fists beating at the stale air. 

“I can’t fucking calm down, OK!” His face was red and his jaw hurt from holding his tongue for so long. “You people can’t do shit, you know that? It’s been six fucking days.” 

“Mr. Ackles, please-”

“No. No. No.” He turned to the detective and slammed his hands down on the desk. He leaned in, close to growling. “You need to save her.” 

The older man sat forward. “We are doing everything we can. They’re working on the emails right now. Still hoping there’s traceable DNA on the ring. We will get these bastards. We will find her.” 

Jensen closed his eyes, felt a thousand more tears brewing in his chest. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on without having a complete breakdown. There wasn’t enough bourbon in the world to soothe his soul. 

Only one thing would do. 

Only Y/N.

He was coughing so badly she was sure he was dying. She could hear him from the kitchen, his wet cough rattling above the sound of the screaming kettle. 

She poured the boiling water onto the tea bag and grabbed some Tylenol from the cabinet. 

The room was dark but the light from his cell phone guided her across the soft carpet. 

“Hey…” 

He groaned miserably. 

“You feelin’ any better?” 

He shook his head. “I feel like death.” 

Y/N set the mug of tea down on the nightstand and switched on the lamp. 

He cringed at the light and shielded his eyes with a forearm over his face.

“You better not die on me, Ackles. I’ve still got plans for you.” 

He smiled and sat up a little bit, reaching for the tea. “You can’t get rid of me this easily. Even if it is your fault.”

She gasped in mock offense. “It is not my fault!” 

“You got me sick,” he chuckled and took a sip. 

“Yeah. You’re right. It was all part of my master plan to steal the Impala from you.” She pressed her fingertips together and gave him an evil grin. “Everything is falling into place.”

He laughed. It triggered a cough and she took the tea from him as his body shook. 

“Oh, god, Jen.” Her brow creased with worry and she pressed a cool hand to his cheek. “You’re burning up, baby. I think we should get you to the doctor.” 

Jensen shook his head and grabbed her wrist. He closed his eyes and kissed her palm. “Just stay with me, please.” 

She smiled and settled in next to him. “They couldn’t pull me away…” 

There was screaming coming from above. The words were muffled but the emotion was clear. 

They were coming for her. 

Y/N lay face down on the floor, her fingertip tracing a crack in the concrete. She was tired, so tired, and cold again. The air touching her skin hurt, the strands of hair that touched her forehead felt like knives. 

Dean was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his body locked in a tense defensive pose. He listened to the shouts, eyes narrowed and ears struggling to understand. 

“That’s it,” he huffed, spinning around toward Y/N. “You gotta get up. You gotta go. Now.” 

Boots pounded above. 

Y/N sighed. “It’s fine. He’s coming for me. Jensen is coming. He’ll save me.” 

Dean grit his teeth and knelt down beside her. His voice was deep and firm. “Listen to me. You can still fight. You can get up and fight.” 

She laughed. “I can’t. Look at me. I’m… I can’t fight. They’ll kill me.” 

“Then you go down swinging. You’re not some damsel in distress, Y/N. Get up and fight!” 

Gingerly, she rolled over and looked up at him. “Maybe I am. Maybe I just have to lay here and wait for the cops to show up.” She sighed and closed her eyes, waving him away. “I’m tired, Dean.”

The fight upstairs was growing louder, the boots getting closer to the door. 

Dean slammed his palms against the floor by her head, making her jolt awake. 

“No one is coming to save you. Get up!”

Navy uniforms blurred in his vision. People rushed past the big window, but he stayed put, frozen in the chair beside Lassiter’s desk. 

Jensen was in shock; tired and lost. He had barely heard the detective when he explained the situation. 

They’d tracked down the kidnappers. The S.W.A.T. team was on their way. Just a few more hours and Y/N would be home. 

He just had to wait. 

Finally, Dean got her to stand. Her legs were shaky, but her head was clearing. She knew what had to be done. 

Behind the staircase was an old, rusted tool box. Inside it, a hammer. 

She gripped the wooden handle tight. 

Dean urged her to stand in the shadows beside the staircase. He held her gaze, reassuring her every second that she could do this. She could fight her way out. She could run. 

The boots above stopped. The kitchen light turned on, illuminating the seams around the door at the top of the stairs. 

Y/N steadied her breathing. She bent her knees, planting herself on the spot. 

The door creaked loudly as it was pulled open. 

Her hand trembled. 

Dean nodded reassuringly. “You got this.” 

Heavy footsteps bounded down the stairs and a large man appeared, gun in hand. 

Y/N’s blood was racing, adrenaline coursing through every cell. 

The man turned to the right and Y/N leapt from the left. She lunged forward, swinging the hammer with every bit of strength she had. 

She missed his head, striking him in the forearm. 

The gun fell. 

She pulled her arms back and the claw of the hammer dug into the flesh beneath the man’s chin. He screamed and doubled over, taking the old tool with him. 

Y/N stared down at him, eyes wide with shock and terror. 

“Now!” Dean clapped his hands, stealing her attention back. “Run!”

She could still feel the warmth of the lights on her face; hear the cheers from the crowd. 

Jensen pulled her close and kissed a trail down to her lips. He kissed her forehead, her nose, the top of each cheek. By the time he met her lips, she was laughing into him, so warm, so happy. 

His arms folded around her, his beard tickled her cheeks. 

She clung to his shirt and sighed. 

“I won’t be long,” he whispered. “Just gotta go smile for a thousand photos or so.” 

She groaned. “I don’t wanna let go.” 

He laughed and squeezed her tight. “Me either.”

The kitchen was bright, the lights burned her eyes. She stumbled into a chair and hit her foot against the island. 

Dean was there every step, calling her name, leading her through the worst pain she’d ever experienced. 

“You can do this,” he shouted, urging her to move faster. “Just a little farther. Come on!” 

She pumped her arms, dodged the sparse furniture in the living room, raced for the front door. 

It was locked, bolted and chained. 

“Almost there, kid. Almost there.” 

She focused hard, willing her fingers to cooperate. 

The man shouted from the basement, loud and angry. Dean looked back over his shoulder, and flinched. 

“You gotta hurry, Y/N-”

The chain was the hardest part. Her fingers were numb and tingling; she slipped more than once. 

Boots thudded on linoleum. 

“Come on!” 

She wrenched the door open and tumbled out into the cold night air. The moon was full and bright, the sky clear and inky black. 

She took a breath and steadied herself; bare feet sinking into the snowy lawn. 

Dean was across the street already, silently urging her on with a waving hand and desperate expression. 

Flashing lights pulled her gaze away and she smiled. They’d found her. 

Sirens blared. 

She took a step toward the street. 

Dean shouted her name. 

She smiled. 

A shot rang out and her world fell into darkness. 

Jensen collapsed. 

His knees hit the ground first, then his hands. His palms scraped against the gravel but the sting was irrelevant. 

Someone was touching him, grabbing at his shoulders, trying to help him up, but he shouted and pushed them away. He didn’t want help. He didn’t need comfort. He didn’t want anything. 

His chest burned, his heart raged against his ribcage. The earth beneath him opened up, shattered like his soul. 

“Jensen…” 

He looked up into his own dark eyes. Eyes he’d seen in the mirror for years. Eyes that he’d cried with, laughed with, died with a thousand times. 

Dean sighed. A single tear slid down his cheek.  

“I’m sorry.”

Jensen closed his eyes and Dean faded into nothingness, swept away by the freezing January wind. 

“Keep her safe, Dean,” he whispered. “Stay with her.” 

“Always.”

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[kidvoodoo]

Solitaire

The long drive from the airport passed by with a dizzying blur and Joost found himself barely taking in the scenery of the snowy streets, preferring instead to be captivated by the man in the back of the limo with him.

Käärijä. The upstart his own ex-boss had been complaining about not even a year ago. This was his savior and temporary bodyguard. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘He’s so much different than I pictured…’ he thought to himself. The man couldn’t be older than his early thirties, he was expecting some grizzled Fin with hard eyes and an even harsher demeanor, not an eccentrically stylish man with eyeliner, silver piercings and a bowl cut…

But the man, for all his oddities, was surprisingly warm.

He patched Joost up without question, risked his life and the lives of his people just to get the Dutchman out of danger. Joost doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand even in the slightest. He barely has a chance to process anything from the last twenty-four hours.

“Um,” he softly clears his voice, “I was gonna ask, where is a good place for me to lie low for a while? I have some cash I can use to pay rent…”

Käärijä looks at him with a puzzled expression, Joost shrinks a little under the stare.

“Why you need to rent? You coming to my place of course.”

Joost’s eyebrows shoot up and he nearly drops his glass of brandy.

“Wha-ah wait, I couldn’t do that, I would be bringing danger directly to you if I’m found out!”

The other man snorts a laugh, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“You think I scared of old Dutch gangsters? They are afraid of me! Besides, you try and go into hiding and they probably find you anyway.” He shrugs nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just declared war on the entire Western Mafia.

“They always gonna find you, but they are stupid to try and take you while I’m watching,” he grins, those sharp canines giving his expression a vicious edge.

“Not the first time they try and cross me, now their men underneath a frozen swamp in pieces.”

Joost swallows, he forgot for a moment this isn’t just an excitable newcomer with a deathwish, he’s the Nordic Crime Lord for a reason. You don’t get far in the Underworld if you can’t get your hands dirty and bare your teeth.

“Still…it’s an imposition. I can’t in good conscience accept more help from yo-“

“Shh! Enough.” He silences Joost with a sharp word. “I say you are coming with me, you are staying at my compound. It is safest place in Finland I promise.”

Käärijä leans forward and fixes his gaze on Joost, much softer than before.

“Tommy doesn’t vouch for a lot of people. I hear you take two million from your former boss. I don’t know why you did it, maybe you need the money, but I do know a clever money man when I meet one.”

He smiles, he looks almost too sweet and genuine to have just been talking about butchered people and tossing their remains in a swamp.

“It take a lot of guts to do what you did Mr. Klein. We need people like you in the Union, if not as members, than at least allies.”

Joost drops his gaze to the ground.

“I didn’t steal the money for myself,” he says under his breath, ‘Am I really going to admit this right now?’

“What you do with it?”

“I emptied sixteen accounts and forwarded it over to INTERPOL, the two million is what the investigation is willing to discuss publicly.”

He looks up into Käärijä’s eyes and almost bashfully admits it.

“The total sum is around two Billion.”

<><><>

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, Käärijä seemed to adopt a more thoughtful demeanor as he no doubt was processing the depth of Joost’s gambit. He doesn’t blame the man, it still sounds absolutely absurd when he says it out loud.

Absurd, dangerous, stupid…

But does he regret it?

The scenery changes and it’s a while before Joost realizes they aren’t in Helsinki proper anymore. His abysmal grasp of the Finnish language isn’t helping as they pass sign after sign, the only one slightly recognizable is a larger sign displaying the name ‘Vantaa’.

Käärijä must have caught his puzzled look, as the man is beaming with pride when Joost turns to face him again.

“My city, my rules.”

Joost manages a shy smile of his own.

“I’ve always wanted to see Finland…didn’t think it would be like this of course.”

The gangster chuckles, Joost is caught off guard by the casual openness of it all.

“No worries, you gonna have a good time, a lot of fun things around here!”

“Have a good time fearing for my life you mean?” He means it in a joking way, but the concern on Käärijä’s face is evident.

“Hey, I promise you I keep you safe okay? I don’t break promises, and if I do? You can steal my money, I give you 10 seconds head start.” He winks and Joost can’t help but smile at the man, for someone supposedly so dangerous, he jokes around a lot.

A little while later the vehicle descends deeper into the city, the sky had quickly fallen dark and the twinkling lights of the streets and buildings illuminate the snowy walkways. The people are scarce on the streets, the occasional gaggle of pub-goers making their way around town seem unaffected by the cold and icy night.

“Here,” Käärijä says, tapping the glass of the window and gesturing outside. “This my place.”

Joost looks out the window at an imposing high rise building, towering twelve stories at least above the snow covered streets; It’s bright blue lighting casts a cold glow over the block, it’s massive, illuminated and worst of all, highly visible.

This…this is the hideout?!

The Finnish gangster grins and before Joost has a moment to process his now increasingly troubling situation, he’s being ushered out of the back of the car and into the frigid wintery night, up the short flight of stairs to the entrance where another bald gentleman in a black suit is waiting to open the door and welcome them inside.

His eyes adjust to the bright lights of the…lobby? The floors are a white marble and the walls equally as stark. Aside from a couple of comfortable and trendy looking leather couches, the ground floor is empty of any decorative features. At the back of the large room is a double set of silver elevator doors and sat in front of them is a concierge-type of desk. Its matte black surface stands out against the stark white room as does the figure sitting behind the desk.

Another bald man…could they be triplets? No, on further inspection Joost realizes they all seem to resemble each other, but not perfectly, not identically.

Brothers?

Joost startles and lets out an undignified yelp as the bald man who let them through the door grabs his shoulders and begins patting him down without a word.

“Hey! What are-“

“You really should have done this before he got in the car, Jere…”

Another presence startles him further causing the bald man to squeeze his shoulder threateningly.

“Be still.” The man growls. Joost freezes.

His attention is drawn back to a tutting noise, a taller blond man casually strolls up to the three, his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit pants. He’s wearing a relaxed style shirt in crisp white and sports an easy grin. Around his neck is an expensive looking black camera, the man’s face looks…similar to-

“Jakko, relax. I don’t think Jere would let a spree shooter in the building, no matter how much of an air head he is.”

“Fuck off Mikke,” Käärijä snarls beside him, petulantly crossing his arms. “I know what I am doing.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” the blonde man winks at Joost and holds out his hand expectantly. “It’s lovely to meet you Mr. Klein, I’m Mikke, the boss’s older brother, welcome to the Union headquarters.”

The man grasps his hand for a firm albeit friendly greeting just as the bald man, Jakko apparently, digs out the meager belongings Joost had somewhat hidden in his suit’s inner pocket.

“H-Hey! That’s-“

He’s doesn’t have time to react before his wallet, phone and little vial of pills are passed off to Käärijä.

“We get you set up with secure phone card yes?” He says matter-of-factly, checking the edges of the device for any obvious tampering or bugging. “You smart to not turn it on yet.”

“Thanks I guess, but-“

“Mr Klein,” the blond man interrupts. “Look over here.”

Joost does, and is for the moment blinded by a flash of white light, having had his photo taken by the man’s black camera completely unexpectedly.

“Hey, wha-“

“For your fake ID, we’ll have it ready for you by tomorrow, also we can get you anything else document-wise within the next three days so please let me or any of the staff know! Good to meet you!” And without another word, the blond man is gone out the door behind him.

What the fuck is happening?!

“Come, let’s get upstairs okay? We have a lot of things to do before the night is over.” Käärijä says to him, passing his phone back but holding onto the wallet and pills.

He doesn’t have a moment to breathe or process anything as they make their way over to the elevators, a quick nod from the bald man at the front desk relays some unspoken information to the mafia boss and the sound of the elevator dinging echos in the empty lobby.

Loading into the elevator, Joost takes in the panel of floor numbers . Thirteen floors in total, one labeled as a basement beneath the building, the top floor button has a number pad next to it, off limits to anyone without the code.

“Fifty Euros? That’s all you have?” Käärijä asks in a shocked tone, he’s digging through Joost’ wallet now. “You say you have money for rent? This not enough!”

Joost moves to yank the wallet out of the Fins hand but one look from Jakko behind his dark shades and his hand lowers. He still resolves to clear his throat and holds out his palm in a gesture of polite request.

“May I please have my wallet back? There isn’t anything dangerous in there I promise, I shredded my ID and bank cards. I was planning on fencing some information for additional funds.”

Käärijä cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at that as he pulls out the only other thing in Joost’s wallet, an old folded up Polaroid.

“Wait! Please don’t-“ he begs, the gangster takes one look at Joost’s face and his desperate tone must have struck something, because the man is carefully tucking the photo back in and returning his wallet and phone.

“Sorry, Mikke was right I should have checked sooner.” His tone is apologetic and Joost sighs, pocketing his phone and wallet again.

“It’s…it’s fine, really. I understand you can’t be too careful in this business. And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He offers a shy smile, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Käärijä pats him on the shoulder and the elevator dings to announce their arrival to the eleventh floor, the silver double doors parting to reveal new space.

The space is huge, penthouse sized with clean looking floors and expensive, elegant furnishings. The lighting is studio style with the sliders able to accommodate whatever level of visibility is needed, for now it’s a soft glow that doesn’t strain the eyes. The windows are large and have a breathtaking view of the cityscape below, there is a full sized kitchen, an alcove off to side where the bedroom and bathroom must reside, a comfortable looking leather couch, a desk, dinner table and chairs, a frankly ridiculously large flatscreen tv…

It’s…very nice.

“Here it is!” Käärijä claps his gloved hands together and practically drags Joost into the space, his excitement evident. “We getting you a new laptop and there is plenty of food if you are hungry, oh! Here is the bedroom, you have a great view of the river, we get your phone working tomorrow don’t worry-“

Joost can’t help but sputter in amusement a little at the man’s energetic enthusiasm, for a moment he forgets he’s being hunted by the most dangerous gangsters in all of Western Europe and instead lets himself be whisked away by the gangster. He forgets he’s in the company of the man upheaving one hundred years of underworld tradition, he forgets, as he looks out the window of his new bedroom at the glittering lights of the city below, dots of yellow and gold reflecting off the snowy cityscape. He nearly gasps at the beauty in the night.

“You want to hang onto these?” Käärijä asks from behind him, Joost turns and sees the man holding his little bottle of pills, a soft yet sad look on his face.

“Oh, I…I guess I should.” Joost stammers, staring down at the two little pills. He nearly forgot he had these. His just-in-case. Last resort.

“You know,” Käärijä says quietly, taking a second to choose his words wisely. “I hope you can be comfortable here. I am sorry this all happening.”

“But my place is right above, you can use call button by elevator if you need anything, okay?”

Joost feels almost guilty in this moment, it’s obvious Käärijä knows what is in the bottle but he won’t say it aloud. The man has risked his life for him, taken him in and is using all his collected resources to protect him. And here Joost is taking back the bottle.

Like he would thank the man with the gift of his corpse.

“Um,” Joost begins, taking it all in. “I really do want to thank you. I don’t have…many friends out there, at least not many who would go out of their way to help me like this…”

You don’t have any friends anymore, you robbed them blind and put a target on your head.

“So if there is anything I can do to repay you, please let me know. I don’t want to just take something without returning in kind.”

Käärijä looks into his eyes and a smile blossoms on his face though the sadness in his eyes stays. He squeezes Joost’s hand, the bottle of pills a barrier between them but the warmth in there radiating through the leather glove he wears. Joost can’t help but blush a little.

“The only thing you need to do is relax now, we gonna take care of this okay? Tomorrow I give you actual tour of the place, we get your phone secure and get you ID card.” He gives Joost’s hand one last squeeze and then he’s heading towards the door, Jakko standing vigilantly by the elevator waiting for him.

Joost watches him go, the bottle still clenched in his hand. The glass is warm as is his palm.

The man gives one last wave goodbye before the elevator doors close and it begins to descend, leaving Joost in the quiet of his new residence.

He takes a minute to let it all sink in. In twenty-four hours, his life has completely shattered and was simultaneously reconstructed in an instant. From the moment he ended the phone call with Tommy, his heart hasn’t stopped pounding and the eventual adrenaline drain finally begins to make his body tremble.

He needs to sit down.

He all but collapses on the bed, his bed, with the dark blue duvet cover and soft looking white pillows and stared at the ceiling, feeling the manic fight-or-flight instinct dissolving in his blood.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. Joost’s mind calms and he takes in his surroundings properly. There is a bedside table with a small reading lamp, next to it is an ashtray with a pack of unopened cigarettes and a lighter.

It’s his usual brand.

He should probably be more concerned about that, how could Käärijä know that? If Tommy is their only mutual contact, a man he has only ever communicated with long distance, who did Käärijä have in place to know this information?

He’s too tired to care as he reaches over and opens the pack, shrugging off his suit jacket and carelessly tossing it on the floor. Lighting up a cigarette, he stares at the bandage on his hand, the non-functioning phone on the bed, the little bottle of pills…

The photo is old and creased, the edges of the Polaroid turning yellow with age. There is a skinny boy with a head of bright blond hair and a huge smile on his face, his front left tooth missing, his second baby tooth to go that year. His glasses are busted on one side, held together with tape and willpower alone. He sports a striped polo shirt that has grass stains all over it, a result of his recent roughhousing in the field behind his home. Behind him is a man giving holding up two fingers behind the boy’s head, a mocking bunny ears gesture and a jovial expression on his face. He shares the same jawline as the kid, same smile and same joy.

Joost exhales a plume of smoke and looks out into the darkness of the night, the sea of lights below seemed miles away.

What have I gotten myself into now?

<><><>

Hey! I am now posting this story on ao3! Come check it out and leave a comment if you like!

[princessofgotham777]

Dating Jason Todd (Part Six)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️)

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Arkham Knight, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad), talking about intimacy (not graphic), struggling with eating, topics of grief, PTSD, panic attacks, violence

Part Six: Remember Me, Remember Me

Jason coughed as blood dripped from his mouth. He was still tied to a chair sitting in a cell in Arkham asylum. Dick had searched every inch of Arkham; or he thought he did anyway. His legs had gone numb. He figured out the barbed wire was only able to cut through his Robin suit because the wire was coated with acid. He was starving and thirsty. He couldn’t even focus on the pain shooting through his body each time Joker hit him with the crowbar. All he could focus on was the glimmer of hope he had left that someone would come and rescue him.

“It seems your little girlfriend fell for my trick,” Joker says.

“Batman’s gonna fucking kill you,” Jason mumbles.

“Come on replacement Robin, you and I both know the big bad bat doesn’t kill,” Joker says.

“I’ve got a feeling he’ll make an exception,” Jason says.

“Oh I doubt that,” Joker responds. He picks up a small knife and begins to cut into Jason’s face.

“What the fuck are you doing!” Jason yells as he fails to pull his face away from the blade. Bruce will find me. Dick will find me. Y/N will find me. He kept thinking.

Back at the GCPD you. Dick and Barbra weren’t making much progress. Dick called the titans to let them know Jason was in fact not really dead and you called Thea to tell Roy the news.

“The Robin suit found on the body is yours Dick,” Barbra says.

“What?” He responds.

“How’s that possible?” You ask. “Was it in the batcave?”

“No, I dumped it in some random dumpster in Gotham…Joker must’ve just found it I guess,” he says.

“So you guys are sure he’s not still in Arkham somewhere?” You ask.

“Positive,” Barbra says.

“I searched every room myself Y/N, if he was there we would’ve found him.” Dick says.

After about four hours of reexamining every note Joker had left, you guys had found no new information.

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” Barbra says softly.

“I’m with you on that one, we’re not getting anywhere right now,” Dick says.

“But what if there’s something else in the notes, something that tells us where Jason is,” you say.

“Then we’ll probably be able to find it a lot quicker tomorrow morning,” Dick says.

“But-“ you start to speak but Dick cuts you off.

“Us draining ourselves isn’t going to help us find Jason any faster, trust me,” Dick says.

Dick and you drive to Wayne manor to spend the night there. You insisted you just stay at GCPD so you could wake up and get back to work but Dick felt getting away from everything would help clear your minds to be in better shape for tomorrow.

“We’re gonna find him,” Dick says as you two cruise through the streets of Gotham.

“I can’t feel like I did again, when you told me he was dead, I can’t relive that,” you say.

“And you won’t have to, we just need to rest for a bit then early tomorrow we can analyze the notes again, hell I’ll even go through Arkham again if it gives you some peace of mind,” Dick says.

“Every time I close my eyes I can’t help but imagine what he’s going through,” you say. Before you continue you say, “this convo stays between us okay?” You ask.

“Okay,” he says.

“He’s already been through so much just when we were titans never mind all the shit he went through before even becoming Robin, he’s been tortured before by Slade I know that but Slade’s not insane he’s sadistic but he’s not clinically out of his mind,” you say.

“Jason’s strong, like you said he’s dealt with more now than most people have in their whole lifetimes,” Dick says.

“Yeah but Jokers different than Slade, he doesn’t have any sense of morality or reality, he’ll treat Jason like an animal, worse like an object. He quite literally is nothing more than the symbol of Robin in the eyes of the Joker. Every minute I don’t know where he is I just know he’s feeling more and more pain,” you say.

Dick pulls up to the door of Wayne manor. It’s raining and dark outside. Your fear of the dark is not limited to inside, no matter where you are, ever since your encounter with Poison Ivy you can’t stand not being aware of your surroundings. The fear started to heal a bit when you joined titans. Your friendship with Gar, Rachel, Kori and Donna helped remind you that you weren’t alone. And dating Jason made you feel both seen and protected. Now it felt like that friendship and safety you knew had been ripped away from you. Dick made you feel safe, but not like Jason did. Dick walks around the car and opens the door for you. You reach into the backseat and grab your and Dick’s bags. You two hurry inside trying not to get rained on. Wayne manor is lit up due to the motion sensor lights and the fact that Alfred was around somewhere. You and Dick head upstairs and then part ways; him going into his old room and you going into Jason’s room.

Twenty minutes later the rain had turned into a full blown thunderstorm. You liked rain, it was calming and oddly comforting. But the thunder scared you. It was childish to be afraid of but you didn’t care. You decided long ago being afraid of things didn’t make you weak, it just meant you knew yourself well and had self preservation skills. The thunder went on and just as you were about to finally drown it out and go to sleep the power went out, leaving you alone in the dark. I’m not going to freak out, you thought. You knew this room like the back of your hand. The bookcase stacked with every Jane Austen novel ever written. Heavy metal and emo vinyls. You were safe here. You tried to just calm down but the more you looked off into the dark the more you swore you could feel vines wrapping around your body. Trapping you, cutting off your circulation, covering your eyes, and wrapping around your throat suffocating you. You couldn’t breath you were transported back in time to when Poison Ivy kidnapped you. Suddenly the door flew open and a light appeared. You didn’t move. You were sat straight up in bed with your eyes wide open but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to move even an inch. Dick ran over with a flashlight. He sat on your bed and took your face in his hands. “Y/N!” He said. “Y/N!” You snapped out of it and immediately brought your knees to your chest as you moved away from him slightly. You began hyperventilating. “Hey everything’s okay, just breathe,” Dick says. “Here, put your hand on your heart.” Dick moves your hand to be on your chest. “Breathe in…and breathe out,” he says. He takes your other hand and checks to see how fast your pulse is going. After a minute or two your breathing slows down.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he responds.

“It’s the fucking lights, they went out and I…I panicked,” you say. You knew your fear wasn’t irrational given what you’d gone through but it always felt stupid to say out loud.

“I know, it’s okay,” he says. “Let me sleep on the floor, I can get the old air mattress and-“

You cut him off, “okay.” He looks surprised.

“Okay,” he says. “Here come with me to go grab it.”

You and Dick lay side by side; but you were in bed and he was on an air mattress on the floor.

“I can’t believe it’s still blown up after all these years, I wouldn’t thought it would like deflate or something,” you say.

“Right,” he says with a bit of a laugh. “The air in here is like what four? Five? Years old?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight,” Dick responds.

“Hey Dick?” You say.

“Yeah?” He says.

“Thank you for coming in when the lights went out,” you say.

“No problem,” he says. You weren’t sure which was giving you more vivid flashbacks: your panic attack in the dark or Dick Grayson sleeping on the floor next to you in Wayne manor.

Hey, idk how I feel about the Dick Grayson angst that’s ending up in here but I’m like half asleep writing it so I’m just gonna roll with it. I hope you enjoyed this part it was honestly pretty fun to write cause I LOVE being dramatic. Please like if you enjoyed, I really appreciate positive feedback cause then I am encouraged to keep writing and posting parts. Writing this has honestly been such a good escape and creative outlet. Also if you saw the last part and read my little rant after my mom is okay and home from the hospital🥳🫡This fic series is the first I’m ever writing so idk how good it is but it’s definitely fun to write. I have a lot more ideas including backstory and I’m also planning on developing the red hood plot, so remember to check out my Masterlist if you enjoyed this🩷

Here’s a link to my Masterlist if you want to read the other parts.

Masterlist

[kristannafever]

Big Sky Ranch - 31

Kristanna Modern AU Rated: Explicit WC: 3560

Chapter Index

A/N - So, this is all I have completely written for this story. I do of course want to write more, and I will, but honestly, life has been coming pretty hard and fast lately. So while I may have wrapped it up for now, there will be chapters in the future. And thank you to everyone who has read this story and commented/reblogged. I appreciate you <3

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

Kristoff walked into the office and Anna looked up at him from something she was reading on the computer.  In the months that she’d been running the business side of the ranch, she had become very connected in the ranching community.  And it was certainly fast tracked due to Art’s influence within that community.  He’d made all the introductions. 

“So, there is a little ranch in Texas,” she started as he took a seat across the desk from her.  “They take horses that are too old to work and use them for therapy animals and education.  They do a lot of work with special needs kids and they even have vet students taking care of them as they earn their Doctorate of veterinary medicine.  It’s such a great program they offer down there.”

He looked at his wife of only a month.  “Why do I feel like this is gonna end with you tellin’ me I’m headed to Texas?”

Anna pursed her lips, looking guilty.  “Because I am.”

He nodded, unsurprised.  “And I’m doing this because we got about five horses headed for retirement in the next couple of months and you are graciously donating them.”

She nodded in return, smiling a little.  “They can’t find anyone else who isn’t willing to part with their horses for free.  The ranch is making a somewhat decent profit, and… well, I want to help.  I want to show that Big Sky Weadick is about our community, even if this place by Amarillo is a twenty-four-hour drive from here.”

Kristoff calculated.  “Gonna take us almost four full days to drive there.  Can’t have them horses in the trailer for more than six or seven hours.  Some say you can do nine, but we don’t like doin’ that.”

Anna nodded, standing up and coming around to the other side of the desk and kneeling in front of Kristoff.  “I know.  I’ll arrange your overnight stays with some of the equestrian communities on route.  And I know it’s a lot to ask and you are going to be gone for over a week, but-”

“This is important to you,” he interrupted her, looking into her gorgeous eyes.  She nodded.  “Of course I will do it, Anna.”

She gave him a very special smile and leaned in to kiss him.  Before one thing could lead to another, she stopped, and went back to her chair behind the desk.  “Since Dixie is in Cheyenne, I assume you’d take Sven along?”

He nodded.  “He was the first person I thought of.  When are we leavin’?”

“I can give you two days to get your work sorted out.”

“Sounds fair enough.  We’ll plan to head out on Wednesday.”

Anna heaved a sigh.  “As much as I am going to miss him, I think Dusty needs to go too.  Last couple of times I took him out he seemed pretty stiff.  I know he’s getting on and I think this place would be good for him.  I haven’t had as much time for him lately.”

Kristoff nodded, taking in this vision of his wife again.  In the nearly eight months since the ranch had been in their names, Anna didn’t hesitate once to step into her role.  There was no doubt about it to anyone on the ranch; Anna was now the boss.  Kristoff may run the hands, but Anna ran the ranch, and they respected her decisions.  It had him in awe every time he looked at her.

“What?” she asked playfully scrunching up her nose.  “You’re staring.”

“You are fuckin’ incredible, you know that?”

Her cheeks darkened and a hand came up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  “I am not.”

“I know how much you love ol’ Dust, and you willin’ to give him a more comfortable last couple of years instead of keepin’ him for the sake of sentiment, speaks volumes, Anna.  It speaks cowboy.”

Her blush deepened.  “I didn’t really think of it that way.”

“Well, you should.  You are doing such amazing things, Anna.  I am in awe.”

She gave him a sheepish smile.  “Kristoff, you say the most wonderful things sometimes.  Gets me all… tingly.”

He grinned at her, bringing his hand up and tipping back his hat slightly with his knuckle.  “Does it now?”

Anna smiled back, waving a hand in front of her face.  “Is it hot in here, or just me?”

“Just you, baby.  Hot and oh-so-sexy.”

She lowered her head and looked at him through her eyelashes.  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Kristoff nodded.  “Race you upstairs.”

They both shot to their feet and chased each other out of the office and up the stairs to their bedroom.

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Kristoff yawned again.  It was the morning of the fourth day and they had about five and a half more hours to go until they got to the ranch near Amarillo.  It was his day to drive and he sipped a large black coffee they got from the gas station before they headed out.

Him and Sven had done a lot of talking about their futures on their drive.   How many kids they wanted to have, how they wanted to eventually build another small cabin on the other side of the knoll by the house for their parents to have an extended stay in when they visited, and how they both wanted to make sure to plan a family vacation every couple of years.  Art had started to travel from time to time and he told the boys how much he regretted never leaving the ranch when his wife was alive, and they did not want to be old someday and realize they’d never left either.

The drive went quickly and they arrived to the small ranch in the early afternoon.  They were greeted warmly by a small crew of workers and they unloaded their oldest six horses to their new home.  Once they were out of the trailer for a quick jaunt in the pen before going to the stables, the woman who ran the ranch approached Kristoff.  Her name was Jessie and she already knew their names from Anna.

“Kristoff, Sven, I can’t thank you guys enough for this generous offer for our program.”  She stuck out her hand.

Kristoff shook it.  “Our pleasure, ma’am.  We were glad we could help.”

She offered her hand to Sven and he shook it, then turned back to him.  “And Anna is your wife?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, just got married about a month ago.”

The older woman smiled.  “That’s wonderful.  I was so touched when she reached out to let me know you had some horses we could have.  I’ve even made signs in our stable for each one that they were graciously donated by the Big Sky Weadick ranch up in Alberta.  We are truly grateful.”

“That’s wonderful.  I know Anna will appreciate that.”

“Take some pictures on your way out for her.”  She smiled brightly.  “Thank you again.  My apologies, I have to run now, I have a program starting.  My assistant gave you the details for the accommodations for tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am, she did.  And thank you for putting us up.”

“Least we could do, gentlemen.  Have a safe drive home,” she said, giving them a wave as she turned and headed back to the riding ring. 

He turned to Sven.  “Let’s help them stable the horses and we’ll take those pictures.”

They walked over to the circular pen where two men and Jessie’s assistant Brook were working and aided them in getting the horses stabled.  Once that was accomplished, Kristoff grabbed his phone and took a picture of each horse with the sign above the stall that stated the horses name and where they came from, when he heard a ruckus from a stall down at the end.

“Someone doesn’t sound too happy,” Sven commented.

Kristoff listened to the horse at the end whinny in frustration and kick again at the stall doors.  “No, not happy at all.”

“Oh that’s Picante,” Brook said.  “He’s one mean ol’ bastard.  He was donated to us because no one can break him.  We’ve been at it for two months and we can’t either.  He’s impossible.”

“Huh,” Kristoff said, hand going to his chin, thinking an impulsive thought.  Whenever they had a horse on the ranch that needed to be broken, he was the one to do it because he was better at it than anyone else.  “Mind if I take a stab at him?”

Brook appraised him with amusement.  “You are more than welcome to try, but don’t get your hopes up.  That boy, true to his name, is spicy.”

Sven laughed.  “With how pissed off that horse sounds, you are gonna chew gravel, brother.”

Kristoff ignored him and followed Brook to get Picante saddled up.  It proved to be difficult.  The horse definitely had an angry temperament, but they accomplished it quick enough and had him out in the pen.

As soon as he stepped in the stirrup of the saddle the reddish-brown mustang bucked and jumped sideways.  Kristoff quickly got his boot out and let him voice his displeasure for a minute while Sven laughed from the peanut gallery.  Once he was relatively calm again, Kristoff tried again, this time grabbing the horn of the saddle and standing as soon as his foot was in the stirrup.  The horse lurched again and Kristoff wasn’t able to swing his other leg over the saddle.  He was knocked off and fell back first into the dirt.

Sven guffawed.   

“You wanna put him in the chute?” Brook called out with a grin.

Kristoff got to his feet, ignoring the dirt on his backside and picking up his hat.  “Yeah.  Gonna have to I recon.”

Brook and the two men went about getting Picante in the single chute by the gate while Kristoff wandered over to where Sven was sitting on the top of the fence.  He leaned his elbows next to him.  “That horse has spirit.”

“He’s mean.”

“Nah, he’s just misunderstood.  I can break him.”

-----

Kristoff stared up at the blue, cloudless sky for the last time.  He lay there, utterly defeated.

Sven appeared over him a minute later, blocking the sun.  “You about done?”

He nodded and remained laying where he’d been bucked off, arms splayed straight out at his sides.  He’d been at it for almost an hour and lost track of how many times he’d been bucked off.  Picante would end up calming down long enough that Kristoff thought he was gaining an edge, then one step later started bucking and ended up sending him flying to the ground.  His body was tired and sore.

Sven offered his hand and helped him up.  It was slow going.  He was going to have to slip into a warm bath when they got back to the hotel. 

On his feet, Sven grabbed his hat as Kristoff ran his hands down his length to get some of the dirt off his clothes and noticed that Jessie was now watching him beside her assistant Brook.

“How long she been standin’ there?” he asked Sven out the side of his mouth as he took his hat and settled it on his head.

“Last two failed attempts,” Sven answered quietly as they made their way over to the women. 

“Impressive, Kristoff,” Jessie said as they approached.  Her smile was pure amusement.  “Never seen anyone get that far with him.”

Kristoff put his hands on his hips and pushed forward, stretching out his back.  “Sure didn’t feel like I made any progress.”

Jessie laughed.  “No, I suppose from your point of view, it wouldn’t.”

He looked back over his shoulder where Picante was angrily trotting around the back of the pen.  “Given time, I think I could do it.”

“You want him?  He’s yours.”

He looked back at Jessie.  “Yeah?”

She nodded with a smile.  “We were gonna try to sell him, but you can just take him if you want him.  You’d be doing us another favor actually if you did.”

He didn’t need to think twice about it.  He felt a kinship with that animal that he could not explain.  “He’s comin’ home with us then.”

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

After Jessie had put them up in a nearby hotel for the night, they went back to the ranch the next morning to pick up Picante.   Their progress home was slower as the horse would only tolerate about four hours in the trailer before causing a ruckus.  It made their eight-day trip turn in to ten.

The men called their wives every night, and talked off and on about how this was the first time they’d ever been away from the ranch and how much they were missing home.  It seemed as though the closer they got, the more they missed it, like the way a magnet pulls harder the closer it gets to something magnetic.

They were about an hour from the Alberta border with Sven’s phone connected to the stereo for music, when the song came on.  Sven glanced at the display as the melody started. 

“Huh,” he said, brow furrowing.  “What are the odds this song comes on at this exact moment.  That’s fuckin’ eerie, dude.”

Kristoff nodded his agreement.  It was very weird to be listening to a song that basically laid out exactly what they were doing.  Even right down to their distance from the border.

Paul Brandt’s voice filled the vehicle. 

“The sign said 40 miles to Canada My truck tore across Montana…”

Kristoff’s grip on the steering wheel tightened in tandem with his throat.  This had to be some kind of sign.  Some kind of omen from the universe… or something.

“…'Cause there's just a little more to go 'Fore I cross the border at that Sweet Grass sign…

I'm Alberta-bound This piece of heaven that I've found Rocky Mountains and black fertile ground Everything I need beneath that big blue sky…”

God, he missed home.  He missed Anna.  Shit, he missed everything.  He was always soft on this song, but living it as he listened, was provoking a lot of seriously strong emotions.  His throat and eyes were starting to burn fiercely.

“It doesn't matter where I go This place will always be my home Yeah, I've been Alberta-bound for all my life And I'll be Alberta-bound until I die…”

It all suddenly bubbled out of him and he let a loud sobbing gasp of air.  “Holy fuck,” he blurted as tears filled his eyes. 

A second later Sven’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing it.  “I feel it too, brother,” he said, his voice also heavy with emotion.

Neither of them spoke another word as they continued on and listened to the rest of the song, sniffing and wiping their eyes.  Kristoff’s foot pressed down further on the accelerator. 

*****

Anna and Dixie were sitting in some chairs on the side of the deck that faced the main drive into the ranch, chatting about how she had done in Cheyene.  They knew their men were due back any moment and they were both beyond excited to see them. 

Not having Kristoff there was hard for her.  More so than she thought it would be.  Their bed was so impossibly empty without him in it that she failed to get a good rest for how much she woke in the night and was unable to get back to sleep.  

Her desire to lay eyes on her husband was so forceful now that it was only moments away, that Anna started to get choked up.  She cleared her throat, trying to rein in her emotion.

“Don’t on account of me, sister,” Dixie said, placing a caring hand on her forearm.   “Me and Sven are used to being apart.  You and Kristoff are not.”

Anna looked at her and smiled, then stopped trying not to cry.  “I just missed him so damn much.”  She sniffed. 

“I feel you, girl.  I am so glad I chose to fly out last night or I’d have to wait another day to see my man.”

Anna wiped her eyes, getting a grip on herself.  “Sven tell you about their cargo?”

Dixie laughed.  “Oh yeah.  He told me all about it.  Kristoff is going to put us on a show trying to break that horse from what I hear.”

Anna chuckled.  “Yeah, Kristoff said he was pretty damn sore after trying.  But if he says he can do it, I believe in him.”

“Amen, sister.”

“Are you going to-” Anna stopped upon seeing a dust trail rise in the distance.  There was a hill in the way and she could not see yet if it was their truck.

“Is that them?” Dixie asked, getting up from her chair.

Anna followed, shading her eyes with her hand.  A second later, the hill tapered off and their black dually with the horse trailer came into view.  “Is it!”

Both women walked down the steps and started off to where Kristoff was going to park by the stables.  As soon as the truck was stopped, both men quickly emerged, and on cue, Anna and Dixie started running. 

In a synchronized fashion, both of them jumped at the same time into the open arms of their husbands, hugging them fiercely and wrapping their legs around the men’s waists.

“Oh God, I missed you so much, baby,” Kristoff said into her neck, gripping her tightly.

“Me too,” Anna managed, swallowed up with emotion once again.  It felt so good to be in his arms.  So fucking good.  His smell, his warmth, the familiarity of his hands on her… she bawled like a baby.

By the time she got a firm grip on herself and untangled herself from Kristoff as he set her on the ground, she discovered they were alone.   No doubt Sven and Dixie had gone off to get reacquainted.

Anna looked up into her husband’s insanely gorgeous brown eyes.  “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are home.”

“As happy as I am, baby,” he grinned.  “You have no idea how good it feels to lay my eyes on you again.”

“Oh, I have an idea,” Anna said, studying his face.  His five o’clock shadow, his rosy cheeks, those insanely delicious looking lips… She kissed him, hard.

Kristoff gave in immediately, and they took off in a run for the house, not even noticing that Buck had emerged from his house upon hearing a frustrated horse in trailer and shaking his head with a smile to take care of it upon seeing Kristoff and Anna dash away.

Inside the house their lips locked again, and they both knew that the stairs were too hard to navigate in their current urgency.  Anna’s ground floor office was way closer.  She shut the door and locked it and Kristoff picked her up and took her over to the desk, setting her on it.

Anna was glad she was an organized and neat person and there was no clutter on her work space to get in their way.  Her hands went to her jeans and undid the button quickly and shimmying the pants off her legs while Kristoff yanked his own jeans and underwear down.

He paused and gave have her a look, asking with his eyes what she wanted, and the only thing she wanted was him.  She gave him a nod and he smirked at her, reaching down to push her underwear to the side.  A second later and he was making his way into her.

Anna’s head fell back on her shoulders and she let out a moan to the ceiling.  God, how could she have forgotten in the mere ten days he had been gone how fucking incredible it felt to have him inside of her. 

“Missed you so much,” he whispered, picking up his pace, the desperation from their time apart very apparent.

“Me too,” she agreed through another moan.  He was working all his magic to get her there quickly which was good because she knew the longing between them was going to make this rather fast.

Kristoff let out a rather frustrated groan and Anna could tell right away that he was very close.  She smiled, picking up her head to look at him.  He met her eyes right away, his brows knitting together with an apology that was not needed.  Anna reached for him and pulled him against her as they reached their climax together.

Anna relished the feeling, smiling again to hope that they would soon get pregnant.  While Kristoff was a few days late getting back, she figured she was still in the window where she could conceive.  In fact, Anna decided that she was going to think of this being the exact moment they got pregnant. 

“We’re going to have a baby,” she said to him as he pulled away from her and reached down for his underwear and jeans. 

He smirked at her.  “Are we now?  You think that did it?”

She nodded, pinching her bottom lip in her teeth.  “Yes.  I am going to manifest this with positive thinking.”

He chuckled.  “We’ll, I’m on board.  Let’s call it.  I just knocked you up.”

Anna smirked back.  “You sure did, cowboy.”

---

Previous Chapter

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

HenRen AU where the timelines are all different and Hen is already a mom to Denny when they get set up on their first date.

Hen leaves Denny, sweet tiny four year old Denny, with Buck and Eddie and Chris for a couple hours and can’t help but stress because he has a little bit of a cold and normally she would NEVER leave her kid when he’s sick but Chimney had REALLY wanted her to go on this date with his neighbor and Buck and Eddie said they could handle him no problem and that Chris had the same thing from school last week so they were practically immune now, but she can’t help checking her phone because Denny is her BABY.

And Karen sees Hen’s flighty looks at her phone and her jostling leg under the table and her overuse of nods to answer open ended questions, and she just KNOWS her date is about to find a “convenient” excuse to leave. (Just like the last one did with some made up excuse about her cat being sick — only to find out that she was ALLERGIC to cats)

Which is a shame because Howie is right and she’s exactly Karen’s type. She had picked her up from her place and even bought a new black lacy set underneath her dress that she was hoping to reveal if this went well.

But before the appetizers had even arrived, Hen gets a call that she answers and furrows her brows with an almost practiced little worried wrinkle, and Karen KNOWS she’s about to be left all alone.

And maybe Karen is still a little bitter from being ditched by her last date or the fact that this new underwear is pinching her in places she doesn’t like being pinched, but when Hen delivers the smooth apology that her son was sick and it seems like he was developing a rash, Karen offers to drive her there instead of her friend coming to get her with a big, sweet smile.

Because she’d be DAMNED, before she was ditched by a date by a fake excuse AGAIN.

Hen tries to claim that it’s not necessary and they can pick her up no problem, but Karen INSISTS. If she’s gonna be ditched, she’s gonna make Hen admit it straight to her face and not use her kid as some kind of scapegoat. However, when Hen eventually caves and accepts the offer, Karen bluster begins to fail and the creeping doubt that maybe this time her date is telling the truth is starting to settle in.

When she pulls up outside a house, a sturdy dark haired man comes rushing out with a big old smile and the sweetest looking toddler in firefighter pajamas, and Hen doesn’t even wait for the car to stop before she’s bounding out of the car and scooping the kid up from his arms. And in that moment, Karen knows she’s royally fucked up.

“Sorry for ruining your date, Hen. Buck was worried for nothing. Turns out this little man and Chris were sneaking strawberries when Buck wasn’t looking. Wasn’t a rash at all, just some really juicy strawberries. I was just about to call you when I saw you pull up.” He is scratching the back of his head looking a little bit ashamed, but there’s a twinkle in his eye when he spots Karen trying to sink deeper and deeper into the driver’s seat, and he gives a genial wave. “And I guess I should apologize to you too. My husband is a bit of hypochondriac when it comes to kids. He was freaking out and called Hen before I could stop him. Sorry for crashing your date. I’m Eddie.”

Karen gives a pitiful wave back. Her face burning with shame. Trying to run through the logistics of how she could move out of her apartment and never have to explain to Howie how massively she had fucked up this date, she offers back, “Karen.”

“Well Eddie, tell your husband thanks for the heart attack, and you mister, you know the rules about sneaking food. I’ll let it pass this time but you better not be sneaking any more treats when your Uncle Buck isn’t looking ,” Hen muses to her son after doing a quick visual examination on the giggling child in her arms. She smacks a hearty kiss to the toddler’s cheek before handing him back to the man. “Can you bring him inside while I finish off with my date? I’ll be in in a minute.”

Eddie gives an affirmative before heading back inside, but not before throwing a wink over his shoulder at Karen.

Once the front door slams shut, Hen whips around to Karen and raises her eyebrows in a self satisfied smirk, “So, are you satisfied that I actually had a sick child and wasn’t just trying to ditch you?”

Karen’s face burns again. She rests her hot face against the edge of her steering wheel. “I was pretty transparent with that one, wasn’t I?”

“Well, most first dates don’t offer to drive you to their sick kid after 20 minutes of awkward conversation,” Hen says, and Karen can hear her lean her weight against the still open door. “But given that I wasn’t a very good date to the beautiful woman in front of me since I was still in mom mode, how about we call it even and do a do over?”

Karen sits up, blinking up at Hen in her loose jean jacket and the black pants that hugged her thighs, confused. “You would still want to go on another date with me after all that?”

“What can I say, I like my women a little uptight,” Hen says with a little shrug of her shoulders and a heavy lidded look that has Karen wishing that their night was ending in a different way. “Sunday work for you? Eddie’s husband likes to bring the kids to the science museum so I have the whole afternoon free if you want to try this again.”

Karen gives the affirmative, and the smile Hen gives her back has her heart doing backflips in her chest.

“Sounds good then I’ll text you the details. Have a good night, Karen, and thanks for the ride.” Hen says it then leans in to press a lingering kiss into Karen’s cheek before closing the car door behind her.

Karen isn’t sure how she even got home — the feelings of Hen’s lips against her skin taking over every bit of brain power — but she’s already drafting a thank you message to Howie for setting her up before she even unlocks her front door.

[ghastlyfilters]

ain’t that somethin’ | al capone x fem!reader

pairing; al capone x fem!reader

warnings; mentions of facial scarring, a little angst

a/n; this version of al is entirely based on stephen graham’s portrayal of him in boardwalk empire! (also yo i’ve been fucking dying to write about boardwalk empire for AGES)

plot; imagine al deep down feeling insecure about his scars, and his girlfriend telling him how truly beautiful she finds him with them.

(au where al isn’t married to mae ofc)

MASTERLIST

gif by fancykraken!

Al fiddled with his pen as he sat in his office within the walls of the Four Deuces. Johnny wasn’t around today. He was taking care of some business elsewhere. Thank fuck. Al didn’t exactly miss any of his demands or shitty remarks.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing to himself. Al was never really the type to often feel emotionally drained. And when he did, he hid it rather well. But today he was in no mood for putting on a false smile.

“Al?” Said that same old sweet voice. He lifted his head, now staring at the beautiful woman smiling at him from the doorway.

“What?!” He barked, wanting to curse at himself for sounding so harsh. But it seemed that he really couldn’t help it.

Y/n didn’t look too bothered. She was quite used to his outbursts and mood swings. In fact, she was the only one who put up with them. And Al secretly appreciated that.

“I’m sorry,” Al admitted. “What’s the matter?”

Y/n gave another soft smile. “Nothing it’s just.. well it’s getting a late.. that’s all. We should probably head home.”

“It ain’t late. You’ll last another half hour.” Al said, clutching the pen in his hand.

She glanced at the clock above him, ticking relentlessly. “Al, it’s almost ten at night..”

Al sighed again, rubbing his tired eyes. “I gotta sort out these checks for Johnny, doll..”

Y/n walked over to him, closing the door behind her. Her heels clicked on the hard flooring. A sound that irritated most, but soothed Al knowing it was her presence.

“You gonna tell me what’s the matter?” She asked, brushing his hair back with her fingers.

“Huh?”

“Al.”

He knew that stern look meant she sensed something was up. But he still didn’t feel like talking. He put some of the papers away, beginning to finish up.

“Just.. just gimme fifteen minutes, huh? I’ll get my coat and hat from Billy. I Left it at the bar. Then i’ll bring the car around. After that, you can meet me out front.” Al’s eyes looked as though they were practically pleading for dismissal on the conversation.

She slowly nodded, walking away and closing the door once again. Al just sheepishly rubbed his nose and closed his eyes, knowing she’d somehow get this outta him when they got back.

Jesus.

The drive home wasn’t as bad as he expected. She’d managed to take his mind off a lot of the things that had been pestering him lately. She never failed to do so.

Just this one damn thing.

The one thing that he was scared to admit in case she thought any less of a man about him after he’d spoke up on it. Al knew she was constantly understanding, but it was more the burning feeling of embarrassment he couldn’t stand.

They skipped dinner that night. No wonder seeing as it was even later now. He didn’t want her to bother cooking at this time. Not when the reason they were home so late was his fault. Johnny easily wouldn’t have minded if Al got up early the next morning to come in and sort the shit that needed done. But Al was trying to do anything to distract himself from the confrontation he’d soon face at home.

As the two lay in bed, Y/n turned to him, and he knew the questions would soon start dropping.

“You gonna tell me what’s the matter now?” She blurted out, nestling herself closer into his chest.

Al rolled his eyes. “It’s nothin’.”

“Sure, sure. So there isn’t a particular reason why you’ve chose to be Gloomy Gus all day?” Y/n pushed further.

He sat up a little, trying to avoid eye contact. “Cmon, doll. Lay off a bit, huh?”

Y/n wasn’t amused with his answer. “Alphonse, per favore aprimi.”

His eyes widened a little as she spoke to him in Italian, knowing she was now getting serious. But alas, he had no interest in opening up.

“Non voglio.” Al replied, closing his eyes.

She was getting frustrated, feeling unsettled by the awkward atmosphere. “Al, per favore!”

“Fine! You wanna know so bad? It’s these fuckin’ scars!”

The room fell silent, and the corners of her lips twitched downward into a small frown. She wasn’t expecting that answer.

“What?”

“The scars,” Al said. “They’ve just.. I dunno.. been botherin’ me lately..”

Y/n raised a brow, trying to understand but was still very confused. “Are they.. um.. hurting?”

“No!” He spat. It was clear he himself was also getting frustrated, not knowing what to say next. “They’ve healed by now. They’re fine. It’s just.. I-I don’t like em as much as people think I do.”

She blinked. “You mean when people think you always take pride in the nickname Scarface?” 

“Yeah.” Al replied, fidgeting with his vest.

Y/n sat up to his level, gently pulling away from his touch. “Who said what.”

“Eh?”

“Who said what.” She repeated. “You never usually care about them. What’s got you so upset like this?”

Al huffed, feeling that same old feeling of his cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. “Couple a’ guys on the business thing with Johnny. Smug little fucks. Ain’t ever got under my skin as bad as this..”

She gave him a gentle smile, wrapping an arm around him. “You’re still beautiful, Al.”

“I know.” He joked, giving a slight smirk, which soon fell back into a frown. Even right now he wasn’t in the mood to be as sarky as he always was.

“I mean it,” Y/n told him, taking him by the hand.

He looked up at her, those chocolate brown eyes sparkling with adoration. Something that never failed to make her melt.

“Your scars aren’t a weakness, Al. Neither are your feelings. Only you can be your own enemy here and treat them like they are. I’ve known you for fuckin’ years. With and without them,” she smiled, gesturing to the scars down the left side of his face. “They aren’t a flaw. Some may see them as hauntingly beautiful. But me? I just see the beauty part. Nothing else.”

Al began to chuckle, and that chuckle soon turned into a giggle, then his classic booming laughter that was practically music to her ears.

“Ain’t that somethin’..” He grinned, still laughing.

Al put his hand on her cheek, caressing it. “Is this the part where I say you’re the best little fuckin’ beauty i’ve seen in my life?”

She giggled, laughing along with him now. “I don’t think you’d be opposed to it.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, inhaling her sweet scent. She had always been his little doll. And perhaps him being her Scarface wasn’t the end of the world. Atleast it meant he was hers.

“I love you, doll.”

“And I love you, my Scarface in shinin’ armour.”

Al kissed her again. “Some pair a’ cheesy fucks we are.”

man this has motivated me to write a shit ton for al in boardwalk empire now. if you have requests for him, SEND EM IN!!