#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

[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

[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.

[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

[moonacrefarm]

anticipating love

summary: sometimes the only way up is backwards.

contains: childhood friends to lovers to strangers, second-chance romance, angst, hurt/comfort, slight miscommunication, fluff, 18+ series, mentions of stalking, mentions of cancer, no mention of y/n

authors note: i think i rewrote this like four times. editing this one was so difficult bc i was never satisfied, i'm not used to writing dialogue and all of it felt unnatural </3. for this chapter, i was listening to home by danny knutelsky... i'm not sure if you can tell that was the vibe i was writing with... enjoy!

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05. a secret place to hide

"You can live your life, you know?" Your mother's hand caressed your hair as you laid in her lap. Since the last time Bradley visited you’d avoided him, holing up in your room or Hard Deck during it’s off-hours. You found yourself taking advantage of the sights San Diego had to offer if it meant avoiding him. Your run-in with Bradley had seemingly shaken you up more than you thought. 

You pushed yourself up, leaning on her shoulder as you watched a movie. 

"I am living my life, though?" You riposte. 

She gave you a look and sighed, surrendering to you, “Look, Penny called. She needs help working tonight. Would you please give her a hand?” 

You narrowed your eyes at your mother. You knew her like the back of your hand and you could sniff a scheme out. “Did you hear the conversation I had with Bradley the other night?” 

She held her breath for a second in deep thought. 

Before she sighed, “Yeah I did.” 

You groaned, throwing your head back on the couch. You’d been found out. 

“Only a little bit! I didn’t hear a lot, just you scolding him.” 

“Does Penny actually need help at the bar or is this just another scheme?” You raised a brow at her. 

“She actually did call for help. Her server called out sick last minute and tonight a ship is docking.” 

You stared. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“You know we can’t schedule when the fleet comes in.”

“There’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.” 

Your mother and Penny had always been team Bradley Bradshaw; they even placed bets on when you'd be married. The worst part? They weren't wrong. You'd done everything but date, including sharing every first with each other. 

“Neither of us can guarantee Bradley won’t be there tonight. So you might have to break the cold war you have going on.” 

“Might?” 

“You weren’t hiding it, you were avoiding him. I’ve never seen you drive yourself around this much.” She laughed at you, slightly coughing at the end. 

She turned to face you, "You should talk to him..." She said softly, leaning her tired body on the couch as you faced each other. 

"I don't want to. Not with…" You looked away from her, "Not with everything going on." She sighed before smacking you on the arm. You yelped as you tried to soothe the pain away. Glaring at her as she smiled. 

"Do I look like I'm dead yet? You might as well lay me in the coffin with your attitude. I can still smack some sense into you." She guffawed, you joining her laughing fit soon after. 

“I’m not saying to talk to him tonight. With the boat docking his detachment might not even be there, but your aunt has managed to run a very successful bar. You’re in his territory, there’s always a risk.”

“Oh risk my ass, North Island isn’t that small Mom.” You huffed, you both laughing. 

You thought about it for a second. It seemed like a very loose scheme, one where they’re placing bets on Bradley being there tonight. Your mother wouldn’t throw you into anything that made you genuinely uncomfortable, but she is more than willing to give you a push. 

“Just one ship docking?”

“God I hope. Anyone who isn’t married is gonna be bar hopping once they get their land legs back.” 

“I’ll go help her. I’ll call her on my way down there.” 

She nodded looking at the TV and sinking in the couch. The chemo had taken its toll this time, her breathing a little faster, her body a little smaller, but she was fighting. “Are you sure you won't need me tonight?” 

She looked back up at you, “Your father will be home in a couple of hours, by the time you leave I’ll be in the kitchen scolding him into how to make proper lasagna.” You smiled at her. “He must be so excited.”

“He doesn’t even know yet.” 

The sun hung slightly above you, finally coming down into the view but not quite evening yet. Penny had stopped by to pick you up suggesting that you could spend the night at her place anyway. 

You took a deep breath and sat in the passenger seat before you could talk yourself out of this. 

“I’ll man the bars, you dish out the drinks?” Penny’s voice pulled your attention, her hands around the steering wheel. 

“I’m much better at customer service anyway.” You told her with a grin. She reached over and pinched you lightly on your side. 

“I do appreciate the help. I don’t know what it is but this must be the third time I’ve asked you to help on boat night,” 

“Fourth Pen.” You interjected, she continued anyway. 

“Details details…,” She waved her hand at you, “You're the best waitress I’ve had.”  You chuckled to yourself and leaned your head on the window. 

She was quiet for a few moments before asking you, “So, your mom and Simpson worked things out again?” 

She was prodding lightly. She was always weary of navy men and had never fully trusted your father. 

Your parents had never fallen out of love, but when they separated your father was busy climbing ranks. The constant time apart and they didn’t know how to live with each other anymore. Besides the issue of neglecting his family, your father wasn’t very affectionate and no matter how hard your mother fought, he was stubborn and a straight shot. He was blinded until he got what he set out for. 

What made him a great pilot made him a horrible husband and father. 

You shrugged at Penny, “I’m not sure. I think mom’s cancer plays a part in how normal they’re being. I can’t say though. You probably know more than me.” 

“Hmmm. But you live with them, you see more.” 

“I do, but…you know Dad’s never been the one to have a range of emotions.” 

Penny let out an airy laugh. “You’re right about that hon. That man is a piece of concrete if I’ve ever seen one. A true military man.” 

She sighed, pulling in front of the bar. You both crawled out, the Hard Deck loomed over you two. The building seemed twice its size and you’d need the room for tonight. 

“Alright, one boat docked, and maybe the usual crowd. Did your mom warn you about tonight?”

You nodded. “She warned me about the boat and about Bradley.” 

Penny smiled brightly. “Perfect. I can prepare you for mermen, but I can’t prepare you for a Bradshaw.” 

You shooed her away as the first bar patrons came in. Settling in a booth and flagging you over. 

You looked at Penny, and she looked at you. Both nodded at each other as the sun sunk lower into the skyline. 

One thing about the Hard Deck, it was only open after 5:30 pm. Not a minute sooner and not a minute later. The first thirty or so minutes were quiet. 

Until a group of shored fish popped in. Once you saw the first group you knew more were sure to follow. The sun had set and you had been running around the bar all night. As the shift went on, you realized you hadn’t seen Bradley’s detachment. 

There was a solid chance they wouldn’t be here tonight with how crowded it was and their training. 

“Penny, two whiskey sours and a craft beer please.” 

“Coming right up darling.” 

You leaned on the bar a bit, standing between two empty stools and letting your body sag. You hadn’t played waitress like this since your last restaurant job. You caught your breath for a second before Penny plopped three drinks in front of you. 

“Do you need your break?” 

You shook your head no. The buzz from keeping busy kept your mind so preoccupied you didn’t have time to think about anything else. 

“I’ll let you know when Penn.”

She nodded at you and served a couple more beers to the guys waiting. 

Dancing through the crowd kept you on your toes. Time had passed that threshold where most people weren’t worried about decorum or balance. No matter how alert you were, someone always caught you off guard. 

A bar-goer stepped back into your space, catching your shoe and you braced yourself as you tried to regain your balance. A couple more stumbles pulled your weight to the side, your gravity off balance and the tray going with the momentum. 

Until two arms engulfed your frame. 

Gently, they pulled you upright, one hand jutting out to grab the tray out of your hands. As you righted yourself, you noted said hand lingering lightly on your waist, “You alright?” Bradley leaned down to ask you. 

Him and his darn height.

“I’m good Bradshaw.” You fixed your shirt and readjusted your apron. One deep breath in and you went to grab the tray of drinks. They had only slightly spilled. Hopefully, they’d be too drunk to notice. You’d give them a 10% off when you closed their tabs out. 

“You sure?” He asked, turning the tray away from you. 

You huffed at him. “Yes, I am sure. I promise.” 

His eyebrows rose and gently he set the tray back into your hands. “Careful bugs.” You nodded once more before carrying on for the night. 

You could feel his eyes on you the rest of your shift, didn’t matter where you went in the bar or where you went into the crowd. Bradley’s eyes found you with ease. 

“You talk to Bradshaw tonight?” Penny asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Somehow, this all feels a little familiar…” You gave her a small side-eye. 

“Aye, I’m not letting you off the hook this time. I’m paying you to work the whole shift.” 

“Okay okay… I’m not gonna run away just because he looked at me.” 

“I know you won’t, you would’ve ran as soon as he walked in here.” The side of her mouth twitched. “You also don’t have your car.” 

Reminded of your shameful past, you took your restocked tray and carried on for the night. 

Bradley nursed his drink until his group was ready to leave, pulling away from them and promising he’d see them tomorrow. He set his eyes on you. Your chest slightly rising and falling from exhaustion, your bangs framing your face, and a couple of other strands out of place.

You could feel his warmth and he pulled up on your side. 

The bar had quieted significantly, the majority of the group's bar hopping elsewhere or down at the beach. 

He sat on the stool and watched you silently. You didn’t make a move to speak to him, trying to close the register and get the last of the tabs shut out. His watching you didn’t make you uncomfortable. Did you want to face him after the heart-to-heart?

Yes, but also… absolutely not. The feelings that were crawling themselves out of their graves were overwhelming and you didn’t want them pouring out again. 

“You finish up that last tab, I can check out the rest,” Penny said from behind you. 

“Are you sure? I’m already doing it.” 

“I’m sure.” She nodded at Bradley, “I might be a little late closing, think you could give her a ride Bradshaw?” 

The scheming commenced. 

“It’d be my pleasure.” His grin lopsided. 

Him and his darn grin. 

“I’m staying at your place tonight? I even promised Amelia.” 

“I never said you were going home. Just might get there a little earlier than me.” She smiled slyly, testing the waters that were you and Bradshaw. “‘Sides, I wouldn’t come between a promise between you and Amelia. Strong-headed that one, I wouldn't dare.” 

You huffed, “Alright, this register is checked out,” You looked at Penny, “I'll do the final count.” 

Turning to Bradley, silence suspended between you both, Bradley smiling lightly while looking at you. 

"Got a starin' problem?" You jested. 

He smirked at you, "If I do?" Your eyes narrowed as he laughed. 

"Don't mind me taking in the view." He grinned, a slight flush on his ears, "You're dressed real purtty' tonight." He added with a mock southern accent. 

Your face ran hot again. The tips of your ears bloomed red as blood rushed to your face. Bradley looked at you again, reaching for your bags and throwing them on his shoulder. "How have you been?" He inquired, holding the door open for you as you walked. You weren't sure what to answer; how had you been? With everything going on, you hadn't had time to process it all. 

"Alright?" You trailed off. "As good as I can be." You said sardonically. He read your body language, deciding not to prod any further. "And you?" You questioned back. The awkwardness finally settled in. His shoulders tensed. "About the same." He stilled. You watched him fidget with his lip, something he did when he wasn't sure what to do. "About back then..." He started. This time, you didn't stop him. 

“I meant it when I said I’ll come to you. This time, let me do the heavy lifting.” “Bradley, what does that even mean?” 

“It means I’ve seen a future with you for years and always ran away out of fear. We’ve waited for ‘later’ to come for years, I’ve waited for years. When you’re ready, whenever that is, I’ll be here.” He paused for a breath, opening the car door for you and leaning on the frame of the car, “I was the one who left…I think it’s only fair that this time I come to you.” Your breath hitched as you regarded his hazel eyes, firm in resolve. It almost sent you stumbling. 

After a few beats of silence, he ushered you in the car. Climbing into the driver seat and starting the engine, pausing for another moment, “Do you know Penny’s address?” 

Your belly laugh ran out in the cabin of the car. Watching as his ears tinged pink. 

“Wasn’t the best ending to a confession of love was it?” 

“No…” You teetered off, “But it was very you.” 

He frowned, “I don’t think I’m starting off very strong here.”

“Maybe not, but you Bradley Bradshaw are the one I’ve chosen over and over again, you and all your fumbles,” You leaned over the center console of the Bronco, “I’ll tell you what Bradshaw, sweep me off my feet one more time and I’ll be yours forever.” You kissed his cheek tenderly. 

The back of his hand grazed your cheek and you leaned into it. “I know we have a lot to work out, but I don’t want to fight it anymore, you’re here…and that’s more than I ever had of you before.” He flinched. 

“They're gonna have to pull my teeth out if they try and ship me off anywhere where you aren’t.” You laughed again. 

“I’ll let you come to me this time.” You kissed his knuckles. “You were always best for me, Bradshaw.” 

Bradley leaned in and kissed your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds, “This time, I’ll make sure I’m the best I can be for you. I promise Bugs.” 

You two pulled apart for a couple seconds before you registered the sound of the engine, “Do I need to type in the address?” 

Bradley groaned.

[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.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[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!

[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.”

[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

[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!!

[jeridandridge]

I see you're open to ideas for the college years for melissa x reader! College road trip for spring break or something gets derailed when they get lost bc one of them can't read the map/mapquest right, they run out if gas- like a comedy of errors type of thing with little romantic bits? A happy ending if possible 😁😁 hope you like it. Either way I can't wait to read more!

I had to add a little bit of a joe mention in there to drive the point home. I loved this idea!

Detours

“Red, if you’re not ready in ten minutes I’m leaving without you!” You huff from your bed in the corner.

“Yeah right.” Melissa laughs coming out of the small bathroom. “You wouldn’t leave me stranded here alone. You love me too much.”

You roll your eyes grabbing the keys to your tiny skyhawk that was packed to the brim with supplies for the road trip you and Melissa had planned shortly after she dumped Joe, saying it was for good.

“Cmon, let’s head out.” You encourage slinging your arm over her shoulders as you two move through the empty dorm.

Outside you pull right up to the dorm tossing your backpack in the back as you get in the drivers seat.

“four hours from now we’ll be on the beach with drinks in hand.” The red head smiles.

You grin as you pull out of the parking lot heading for the exit of the college town. As soon as you light a cigarette and relax behind the wheel your eyes go wide when you see the trunk opening in the rear view mirror.

“Shit!” Melissa yells as you slam on the breaks, one of the coolers falling out onto the road. Luckily, no one was behind you.

You groan and hop out to get everything back in.

“Good thing we weren’t on the highway yet, huh?” The redhead calls out from the front.

You playfully roll your eyes and slam the trunk making sure it’s shut tight.

“Okay,” you huff starting down the road again, “no more mishaps.”

An hour into the drive Melissa starts to grow restless. “Cmon, let’s stop at a gas station and grab some snacks.” She pouts.

“We have snacks in the back, Mel.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder towards your backpack.

“You didn’t get any of those gummy fish I like though.”

You glance at the woman shaking your head. “No. Those cute puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me.”

The red head gets even closer resting her head on your shoulder. “Please, y/n?”

You groan and get in the next lane headed for the exit. As you glide down the street to the gas station you can’t help but smile at the proud smirk on your friends face.

A little while later you two come out with junk food acquired, Melissa happy as ever. Setting your huge slushie on the roof of the car, you stand there with your hands on your hips as you top off the gas tank.

“Why do you look so hot pumping gas?” Melissa grins from the window. The spring breeze had pushed her hair back, and the sunglasses she wore made her look even better if that were possible.

Fighting back a grin you shake your head. You loved the woman, but she’d just broken up with her boyfriend. You weren’t that sleazy.

“Eat your gummies, Schemmenti.”

Closing the gas tank and getting back in the car you start it up head move forward, only to have a blue Icy substance splash all over your windshield.

“My slushie.” You thud your forehead against the steering wheel.

“Oh, hon.” Melissa laughs reaching over to rub your back. “I’ll get you a big cup of water ice when we get to the beach.”

You sit up with a sigh and flick on the windshield wipers to push the blue sugary slush away.

“You promise?”

The red head looks over holding her pinky up, and you don’t hesitate to lock yours with hers.

A hour later with your hand in a bag of Doritos you realize the area you’re in isn’t familiar. At all.

“Mel, are you sure you read the map correctly?” You question looking at the small town you’re driving through.

“I know how to read a map, y/n.” She rolls her eyes lifting the crinkled map from the floor. Melissa moves the map around flipping it over with wide eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry hon.”

You spot a small gas station and pull in turning the car off. “Where are we?” You asks looking at the map.

“We’re right- here.” She points to a city that’s sure to add another two hours to your drive.

“Shit.” You sigh rummaging around for a pen.

Melissa’s head hits the back of the seat and she crosses her arms. As you sit marking the map against the steering wheel you can see Melissa out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey, what’s with the face, what’s going on here?” You ask nodding to the sad looking woman.

“I’m always messin stuff up, just like Joe said.” She laughs sadly.

“What are you talking about, Red?” You furrow your brows. “Don’t even think about that asshole. We’re gonna get back on the road and be by the water before 5 o’clock.” You tell her.

“We’d be almost there if I were holding the map right.” She crosses her arms.

You shake your head and finish marking the map with where you needed to go. When youre done you toss the pen to the back and hold your arm up for her.

Melissa scoots over again resting her head on your shoulder.

“Mel, if I’m gonna end up in the middle of nowhere on the way to the shore I’m happy it’s with you.” You tell her rubbing her back.

You hated when she second guessed herself like this all because of joe. It was unfair. She was normally so tough and acted like nothing bothered her and it bummed you out to see her like this.

Melissa is content against your side, she lifts her head from your shoulder kissing your cheek.

“Thanks, y/n.”

You swallow hard at the feeling her lips left on your cheek and smile at her.

“Any time, red. Now grab the map so we can get to the beach.”

[burgundy-and-navy]

Potential fic- How to Love a Careless Man's Careful Son

Basically a fix-it fic following from Buck and Tommy getting back together to their engagement. This part occurs after they're back together, and Buck is meeting Sal in-person for the first time. Still a wip and it's been a long time since I've written anything so apologises for any mistakes ...

“We gonna talk about the elephant in the room or not,” Sal’s smirking as he speaks, the asshole. Buck wants to phone Karen and question her theory, because Sal DeLuca cannot be the epitome of a careful man.

Still Tommy had to go through the shovel talks, as light-hearted as they were and the 118 are still being cautious about everything. Even Eddie is keeping Tommy at distance, never being the one to reach out or text Tommy first. That’ll change. Buck will make it change. In the meantime, Buck supposes it’s only fair he also gets faced with a protective best friend.

“If you want,” Buck replies, forcing himself to look Sal in the eye. The thing is Sal doesn’t look angry, or even that concerned. Then again, Buck doesn’t know Sal very well. “I’m guessing you know everything. I was over-excited and acted without thinking. He got scared and left without talking. But we’re better now, or we’re trying to be … No, we are better.”

It’s the truth. They still flirt and joke around. They still occasionally skip the conversation on the way the bedroom. But they are learning how to truly talk to one another.

Tommy is learning how to be open and admit when he’s scared.  Buck is learning how to ask questions and how to wait for the reply.

“Well, I fucking hope so. I don’t really want to drive through the night again because you two idiots didn’t use your words properly.”

Okay, this was new information. Buck knew, post-break-up, Tommy spent the weekend with Sal, he just didn’t know the details. He didn’t know Sal drove four hours just so Tommy didn’t wake up isolated and heart-broken in an empty house.

“You … you came straight away.”

Buck tries to match Sal’s nonchalant tone, but he knows it isn’t working.

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t have to. Tom would have been fine without me there. Mopey as hell, but fine. I just didn’t want him to be all mopey alone.”

No one says anything after that, and Sal seems content to sip his beer and wait for the others to return, but Buck needs all the help he can get. He wants this work, and Sal’s insights are better than nothing.

“I know I hurt him.”

“Sure did.” Sal interjects, making direct eye contact. And he’s smirking again.

Night drives or not, Buck thinks, Tommy is getting a way better deal when it comes to best friend-in-laws. But Tommy trusts Sal, maybe more than anyone else right now and Buck wants to be the one Tommy trusts the most one day, so he continues.

“A friend said I was careless, and I think … I think she was right. But I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“You will.” Again Sal cut him off.

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s Buck’s destiny to break Tommy’s heart. Is that what Sal really thinks of him? And what if he’s told Tommy this? No wonder Tommy thinks it’s better to run. Buck’s so busy spiralling he almost misses the way Sal’s voice softens as he continues.

“You’d be delusional to think otherwise, and Tommy always says you’re pretty smart. I’ve hurt Gina a bunch and she’s hurt me. They’re only small hurts though, we make sure of that.”

Buck knows that Sal is right, he really does, but it’s hard to acknowledge that when he is so focused on not being another person to cause Tommy pain.

“But he’s been hurt so much before.” Buck murmurs, looking down at his own beer bottle, rubbing the label off with his thumb.

“Look here Buckley,” Sal starts. His voice doesn’t change, but he does lean in closer and there’s something fierce in his eyes. “Don’t you go treating him like damaged. He don’t need that. Tommy’s been through some shit, okay. And yes, there are scars that you need to be mindful of, but first and foremost Tommy is a survivor. He ain’t some gay Yoda for you to admire or some basket case for you to protect, right? Tommy needs a partner, someone to be his equal. That’s what a relationship is.”

Buck thinks he might have gone about this all wrong.

“I know. I know,” Buck placates. “I don’t think he’s damaged. I’m not trying to fix him or anything. I just … I want to admire him because he deserves admiration. And I want to protect him even if he doesn’t need me to.”

Once he starts, Buck can’t seem to stop. He just hopes he doesn’t cry because that’ll be hard to explain to Tommy when he comes back.

“I want to make him smile, really smile, and laugh and I know I’ll annoy him and probably make him cry sometimes but I also want to make it up to him after. I want to hear his bitchy comments and tell him off for leaving wet towels on the floor, because that is a really bad habit and Tommy is a grown man who should know how to put his towels away. I want care for him and be careful with him. I want to make his life better and … and I just want to love him.”

The last part comes out more as a whisper. Like some secret he’s sharing with a man Buck isn’t even sure he likes.

Sal just stares at him for a moment before tips his drink in Buck’s direction and leans back. “Good talk.”

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 4: Comfort

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Authors Note (CW: Addiction, hard drug use)

Word count: 4.1k

“The label would like to fly you out to London.”

“Do they know we’re broken up?”

“This isn’t for an event. Sony believes that you’re the most effective kind of damage control when it comes to Damiano. They’re probably not wrong.”

“Is he okay?” Already, you’re opening Twitter.

“For now. I think he’s reached a turning point where the drugs are more scary than they are rewarding. If we can just get him into rehab…” In moments of wishful thinking, you’d done some research into rehab programs in Rome. In a moment of poor impulse control you’d stuck Damiano’s name on wait lists, which was no small undertaking. It meant using confidential healthcare information that you knew from the five year relationship. The fact that he hadn’t consented made it not entirely legal, but you justified it as a means to an end.

“The label is willing to refund Damiano for the program, whatever he chooses.” 

“I think the difference might be an Italian-speaking facility.”

“I agree. So you’ll come?”

“Yes,” you wince. This might go horribly and hurt like a motherfucker.  

“Good. Your flight leaves in four hours. The car service will drive you to the hotel. They have a gig tonight.”

“Oh lord.” The chauffeur actually took you straight to the venue, promising to deposit your belongings in your hotel room. You still had your friends and family badge. Wearing it again felt like putting on a costume. The cavernous backstage area was weirdly empty. You had to follow the arrows to the dressing rooms, of which there was an entire hallway. It was unusual that each band member had their own and that none of them were there to greet you. Handlers and security gathered around the entrance to what you assumed was Damiano’s room with crossed arms. You weren’t sure why, until you heard the yelling.

“Shit, he’s gonna shred his voice for tonight.”

“We’re past that point,” someone responds, not even looking at you.

“Just leave him to calm down,” another suggests.

“We need him for soundcheck,” someone else hisses. Many of these staff members were added since the breakup. Luckily, you found Ronnie.

“Hey, staring at him like a zoo animal isn’t helping, no?”

“Oh, hey. Yeah, um…” 

Damiano comes out of either a closet or bathroom, slams the door and bellows, “Why the fuck are you watching me?”

“We don’t know what he has on him or if he’s eaten today.” Damiano slides down with his back against the wall and curls in a ball behind the couch. He’s so defeated and powerless that it shatters your heart into splinters of glass.

“He’s totally dysregulated. Have you offered him food? Water?”

“He’s insisted that he won’t eat,” says another new voice. 

“Get him some pizza from the bougiest place you can find and if he doesn’t eat it, fine. What about his rider?”

“It contained alcohol so we had someone remove it.”

“You removed the whole rider, not just the alcoholic drinks?” You look at Ronnie in astonishment. “Fresh fruit is on his rider because he eats it before a gig. So he has something in his stomach, but it won’t make him sick running around on stage.”

“Right can, uh…can someone get some fresh fruit for Damiano?”

“No citrus, no pineapple,” you add. “Don’t need to douse his vocal chords in citric acid right before a gig. Also throat coat tea and cold compresses to help him calm down. Alkaline water, as well.” You look into the giant dressing room to see if he’s noticed your voice amongst all the others. Dami seems to be in his own little world, and not in a good way. You can’t do this with an audience.

“One more thing, could you just back up a little bit.” You herd the onlookers out of the doorway so you can achieve privacy. “Just a little more, mhm. Okay, great.” Before they realize what you’re doing, you close the doors of the dressing room in their surprised faces. Trying not to startle him, you place a hand on Dami’s back. It smells like he forgot to put on deodorant. Or maybe he was so stressed he sweated through it already.

When that doesn’t elicit a reaction, you rub his back and run your fingernails along his scalp. Dami shivers and looks up in confusion. That was your touch, but how the hell were you here? He’s obviously high, pupils completely blown out. Could phone camera’s catch that on stage? 

“I closed the doors, it’s just me and you here.” He’s still processing, confusion turning into surprise.

“What did you take? Blow and liquor?” He nods sheepishly and avoids your eyes. “What about pills?” Looking sincere, Damiano shakes his head. 

“They sent you here to talk to me?”

“I guess. I’m not here to chastise you, though. It seems like you needed some peace.” You stroke his head, then down his face. Dami leans into you organically. 

“Can we sit on the couch instead of the floor?” As he stands, there's a timid knock on the door. Someone slides a couple trays inside. Fruit and tea on one, ice water water and a stack of cloths on the other.

“Thank you,” you say curtly and lock the door. “Ohh-kay, do you want some tea for your voice?”

“No thank you,” Damiano clears his throat. You wrap the first cold rag on the back of his neck and use the second to softly wash his face, redipping to keep the cloth cold. As much as you’d like to ask questions, it was clear that soothing is what Damiano needed.

“I’m gonna go grab the other tray.” You start eating the fruit yourself, knowing that will encourage Dami, and he takes sips of tea. You exchange the rag on the back of his neck with a fresh one. This is the tipping point. He opens the water bottle, but doesn’t drink. Instead, Damiano reaches towards you, arms around your waist and head in your lap as his face crumples.

“I can’t control it!”

“I know,” you murmur, stroking his flushed complexion.

“I can’t control it and I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I just want to go home.” How childlike we all are, when worn down to the bone.

“That’s why I’m here, to take you back to Rome after this gig.”

“No, I fucking hate Rome,” he bites.

“Rome is your home.”

“No, you were my home and now whenever I go to Rome I can’t come home.” Closing your eyes, you try to steady yourself, with a few deep breaths, then a few more. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I fucked it all up and I’m afraid…it feels like I’m too far gone to turn back.”

“You are not too far gone! People spend years in hard drug addiction and they’re not too far gone. Please, don’t give up on yourself! I haven’t given up on you, not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are right here, right now, acknowledging that this is out of your control.”

“I’m so afraid of getting better because there’s only one direction. If I don’t do it then I’ve failed. If I fail, then I might as well die.”

“No, that’s not true! If you’re alive, then there's always a chance to get better. And if you relapse, you can get clean again.” As you say the words, they sound more like a Hallmark card than a mature piece of advice. Neither of you were equipped to handle this particular moment.

“Then you won’t want me anymore!”

“Yes, I will! My love isn’t that fragile. I am not that fragile. I dealt with your self-destructive alcoholic ass for months before we ended it.”

“I’m never happy. Even the blow doesn’t make me happy, it just keeps me going. The other day I was so close to trying crack, just to see if I would fucking feel something again.

“But you didn’t?”

“No, but I almost –” You lean down and press a long kiss to Dami’s cheek.

“You’ve already started getting sober then. Plus you’ve admitted that you need to get better, that this is all out of your control. Three weeks ago you couldn’t say that. You’re doing good.”

“It feels like it was all for nothing. I burned every bridge to force Sony’s hand in a new contract, and now I’m even more miserable than before. I can’t even enjoy it because I can’t enjoy anything! I’ve driven so many people away and the ones left are other addicts, but they’re all fucking miserable too. I can see them pretending they’re not and its so fucking depressing that sometimes I don’t even want to –”

”Go on,” you whisper horsely, stiller than a granite statue.

“I don’t even want to be alive anymore,” he finally admits. “The entire world thinks I’m a druggie playboy and they’re not wrong. I’ve destroyed all my credibility, every good thing that people thought about me and I’ll never get it all back.”

“I disagree, I think an epic rebrand will be humanizing and make you more lovable than ever. People crave a comeback story.”

“But I never put 100% into getting sober before! I don’t know how to try, what if I’m not good at it?”

“I guarantee you won’t be, which is why you’re going to go to one of the best rehab facilities in Rome. You’re gonna get psychiatric care to treat the why of your addiction so you can stay clean.”

“Come on,” Damiano sits up, face riddled with skepticism. “It takes weeks or months to get into those places.” He starts eating just like you’d predicted.

“That's why you’ve been on half a dozen waitlists for a few months.” Damiano scoffs and catches a grape in his mouth.

“No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have.”

“How would I –” When he makes the connection, Dami’s mouth falls open in surprise. “You? But you’d need my SSN and fiscal code, right?” You nod with a self-satisfied grin. “Did you steal my identity, y/n?”

“For your own good.” He shakes his head in mock disapproval, but gives it away with a poorly suppressed smile. “I secured a spot for you before I got on the plane.” Secured was a nice way of saying frantically called and pathetically begged until I got a yes. His face falls.

“What? Do you really hate Rome that much? I’ll visit you.”

“No, no…I was just hoping for an excuse to stop by the apartment for a night.”

“When you get out, you’ll make me dinner and meet Cheeto, okay?”

“I’d love that. We’ll have– ‘scuse me.” He makes a face then bolts to the bathroom. Damiano turns on the faucet and fan, but you can guess the sound he’s concealing. Giving him a few minutes before checking in, you snoop through all his stuff. In the bottom of his box of cigarettes is a mostly empty dime bag of white powder that you almost missed. There’s also a pill case at the bottom of his purse which has coke in it, too. You feel silly after checking the room itself for drugs, as if Damiano wasn’t taping heroin to the underside of the sickly-green velvet couch.

“Babe?” Oops. “Dami, I’m coming in okay. In sickness and in health.” He’s sitting on the floor in the corner, panting, face scrunched in pain. You retrieve the water and cold compress tray.

“You really can’t keep anything down?” He shakes his head, obviously exhausted. “I’m so sorry. I know that cocaine can be hard on your stomach.”

“My own fault,” he winces.

“Yeah, but I still hate seeing you suffer.” You sit down on the floor beside Dami and pull his legs across your lap. Naturally, his head rests on your shoulder. You rub his back for a while, wiping it down with a cold cloth first.

“That's nice,” he whispers.

“Mhm.” You make a fresh one to wipe the sweat from his face. Then you take an ice cube and run it across the top of Dami’s chest to stimulate the vagus nerve. His breathing starts to slow and he leans into you more.

“I really miss this.”

“Affection?”

“Comfort. Everyone is…exhausted with me.” Not knowing what to say, you wrap one arm around Dami, set the other hand above his knee, then rock back and forth. For a few more minutes, you sit in silence on the hard tiles of the bathroom floor, just being together.

“Okay, I’m about to fall asleep, which means I need to get ready.” With a grunt, Damiano stands upright, then pulls you up after him. “Thank you, my lo – sweet – y/n.”

“Smooth.”

“Mm, thanks,” he cringes, walking up to the sink. He picks up a travel toothbrush and fresh tube of toothpaste that someone had already left there, prepared for this moment. You unlock the door and peek your head out to find Ronnie leaning his back against the opposite wall. 

“Hey is he, is he gonna do the show?”

“Yeah, can you get us tickets back to Rome as soon as possible? His place is being held at a facility that does 24/7 intake.”

“Like right after the gig?”

“Yeah, I don’t feel comfortable taking care of him overnight. He needs people who know what they’re doing.”

“So he agreed to rehab. How’d you get him in?” 

“Uh, name dropped,” you shrug, trying not to overcompensate. “So by the end of the show we’ll need a car ready with all our luggage, plus a change of clothes for Dam.

“Something inconspicuous. There’ll be a car waiting when you land, of course.”

“What if Twitter finds out we’re traveling?” Fans wanting a picture was inconvenient, but paparazzi wanting a story were truly the worst ever.

“Security will be there as soon as you deplane. We’ll keep this need to know.”

“‘Kay because he can’t handle any stress. I’ll need an ETA before we take off to give the facility and um…I don’t want him to get arrested for drug possession.”

“Damiano never puts drugs in his luggage, he always keeps them on his person.” You can already feel the nerves of walking by drug sniffing K-9s, hoping to god that there isn’t any significant residue in the bottom of his pant’s pocket.

“So we’re depending on the addict to be rational, thorough, and honest in the process of throwing all his drugs out? Really?”

“He’s good about not taking stuff through TSA. We wipe everything down. There's a system and we haven’t been caught yet.”

“And as great as that is –”

“Y/n,” Ronnie takes both your hands in his own. “Neither of you will end up in English prison tonight, I promise.” The lingering skepticism is written all over your face. “I promise,” he insists. 

Damiano acts the very same before going on stage. He smokes a cigarette and bounces in place to mitigate his own adrenaline.You always stand with him in this moment, rubbing his arms and reminding Dami to be gentle while stretching his neck. It’s comforting to see the band comradery persist now that they’ve come together. There's fist bumps, plus Thomas and Victoria threatening to ruin the other’s performance. Mia is joking along with them, cheeks flushed and her top inside out. Tom keeps a hand on the neck of his guitar so it doesn’t hit her.

At this moment, you’d kiss Dami good luck, having to get on your tiptoes because of his stage shoes. Today you slink into the shadows and see him take a breath from an oxygen canister. Their stage manager counts down from ten while shining a flashlight at the floor, so no one trips on a wire or seam in the stage. You can see him put the persona on, then drop the cigarette on the floor and stamp it out. If you were beside him, Dami would take a final puff and hand it over for you to finish. 

Ethan goes on stage first, then the rest of them. The audience releases a wall of sound and the unhinged screaming only intensifies as the lights go up. You can barely hear Ethan’s sticks click as he counts the band in. Mia cheers with the crowd, in case Thomas looks back. They never look back, but you both did it anyway. Just in case. She begins walking towards the audience exit. It was easiest to slip in front of the barricade unnoticed at the beginning because of the hysteria. You feel the tug in your chest to go with her, sing the lyrics to songs that Damiano had shown you first. 

“Y/n! Oh my god!!” It's jarring to be noticed in real time since you feel so stuck in memories.

“Mia, hey!” You try to match her enthusiasm. “Looks like you’re having fun.” You flick the tag of her blouse as she comes in for the hug.

“Yeah, this venue is huge!” She doesn’t pick up the reference, but enthusiastically agrees anyway. Her and Thomas were both like that: sunny.

“I see you made use of the space.” Mia finally looks down.

“Oh shit! We weren’t sure how long the show was delayed, but Tom thought we had more time to, you know, finish. I wouldn’t touch his guitar if I were you.”

“Ew! You guys are disgusting, I’m so happy for you.” 

“Yeah, thank you!” she laughs. “Let me just...” Mia ducks into Thomas’ dressing room and fixes her top. “So, c’mon let’s go watch.”

“I, um…We’re not back together.”

“Okay, but I’m sure Dam would love to see you out there.”

“I can’t be filmed or photographed today. Also if you could not tell anyone that I’m here?”

“Uh, sure,” she’s put off, torn between staying backstage with you and watching the show.

“But, you go ahead! I have a ton of work stuff anyway, so I’m actually gonna be busy.” A total lie, but Mia isn’t the type to question the authenticity of a friend.

“Oh, okay! Love ya, good luck!” She pulls you in for a goodbye side hug, and practically skips down the hall. Was Damiano expecting to see you in front of the barricade? He probably hadn’t thought about the social media and paparazzi component, which meant he’d be disappointed. This realization didn’t change anything, it just made you miserable. 

Except for the roadies, it's just you backstage. The actual concert was their time off, since they began hauling gear in total darkness as soon as the band finished. Despite how labor intensive their jobs were, the crew was in good spirits, their laughter echoing down the hall. They wore all black with tattoos scribbled on their forearms and cursed as much as possible. You consider saying hi, but this is no longer your space. It'd be like walking into your childhood bedroom with the Justin Bieber posters, hot pink bedspread, and tinkerbell night light still intact. You were visiting a past life, like a ghost.

While Thomas opens the encore with his solo, Dami runs back to his dressing room. You know that his body has become dependent on coke to get through a show and that if he stops now, he’ll crash before you can hand him off to the professionals. Still, it's awkward for both parties. Damiano pulls the pill case from his purse and looks at you with a pained expression.

“I…can’t do this while you’re watching.”

“Right, okay.” You stand up and gesture towards the door. “So I’ll just…”

“No, no, you shouldn’t have to leave. I’ll just go in the bathroom.” Dami closes the door halfway and hesitates because that seems a bit excessive.

“Are you gonna shove it up your ass or?” Dami’s laughter bounces off of the tiles.

“No, I only do that on certain occasions.”

“Like a birthday special?”

“Exactly.” You can hear the tap of something plastic against the porcelain sink. “Can you tell me you’re disappointed in me or something? This feels wrong.” You try to come up with something to say, but end up blanking.

“You are…a very bad boy.”

“Kinky.”

“Ugh, I’m trying! Disappointing…your behavior is disappointing. You are too grown not to know better. Refusing to acknowledge a problem exists is…counter productive to healing. You need to prioritize healing because nobody can do that for you. You have –”

“Okay, done!”

“Thank god.”

“See you in 15!” You walk around the kitchen collecting possibly useful supplies for the car ride, plus the pizza box with Dami’s name on it. The chauffeur walks down the hall with Damiano’s clothes in a garment bag.

“Your flight departs in two hours and 41 minutes,” he says in a professional tone. “Shall I take that to the car?”

“Huh?” Oh, thank you.” The jitters have already started to set in. “And has Damiano’s luggage been inspected?”

“Inspected, ma’am?”

“Yes, has someone on their team looked through it?”

“His luggage was packed by a member of their staff, although I am not sure if they inspected it in the process. Should I ask?”

“Yes, please.” He walks away looking bewildered. You hear the final scream of the concert and try to locate Damiano through the rush of activity backstage. Each band member walks towards the dressing rooms with a towel in hand, drying the sweat from their faces. Dami is exhausted, but he smiles wide when he sees you.

“Hey, were you out there?” 

“No, I didn’t want to get mobbed when those photos hit Twitter.”

“Ah, smart.” He’s still disappointed.

“I’m sorry, but I need you to hurry up and shower. There's a change of clothes hanging in the bathroom. Also I made a cup of baking soda and water for your stomach. Our flight leaves in two and a half hours.”

“Jesus.” He pulls his shirt off while walking into the dressing room, the muscles of his slick back rippling. For a moment you’re very distracted with memories of digging your fingernails into that back while he fucked you to overstimulation. Or when you’d peg him from behind, cupping his balls in the palm of your hand, lips to the nape of his neck. Damiano made the most beautiful sounds when he bottomed. So whiny and demanding.

“Y/n? Y/n?”

“Huh?”

“I was saying it's so nice to see you,” Victoria panted. Ethan agrees behind her.

“Yes, you look well.” His formal way of speaking had endeared you from the very first meeting. Tom is nowhere to be found, probably finishing what he and Mia started before the gig.

“Oh uh, thanks. Sorry, I’m distracted. Our flight is…soon. Too soon.”

“Like tonight?” Victoria exclaims, pulling her own shirt off. She was bare breasted and unapologetic as per usual.

“Yeah, I guess the sooner, the better.”

“So he’s really going? Of his own volition?” 

“Mhm! He’ll be in the facility by breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Oh my god, that's amazing,” Ethan lets out a huge sigh of relief and Vic grins.

“I’d hug you if I wasn’t disgusting.”

“Well, that’d just give me a boner,” you deadpan. Nobody loved raunchy, flirtatious humor like Victoria.

“Ooh, well since you and Dam are on a break…” She wiggles her eyebrows and shimmies closer, sauntering around you with a provocative expression. Meanwhile, Ethan is silently laughing with his eyes scrunched. It's enough to evoke a genuine smile, but also your heart aches for the months you’d missed with these dumbasses.

“Since he’s busy, do you want me to show you what it’s supposed to feel like?” She gives an over exaggerated wink. There had been a strictly no band members policy in your non-monogamy.

“I heard that! Keep your paws off of her, Vic!!” Dami yells from the bathroom.

“Ugh, fine!” She gives your ass a robust slap before disappearing into her dressing room. Your understanding was that “on a break” and broken up were vastly different things, even though phonetics would suggest otherwise. Had Damiano lied or were you reading too much into it? And why did it make you so happy? Before you can get caught in a hell cycle of intrusive thoughts, Ronnie walks up and hugs you. 

“I’m really glad you came,” he admits, pulling away. Your arms hang limply by your sides in surprise. Ronnie wasn’t the hugging type or the emotional type, but his eyes are glassy. It throws you off guard even further.

“You okay?”

“What? Yeah.” He clears his throat roughly. “And we checked everything twice. Someone is currently wiping out Damiano’s purse, just for you.” 

“We can’t all be rock ‘n roll. Some of us have to be anal as fuck.”

“Agreed. I just wanted to wish you luck.” He gives a tight lipped smile and continues down the hall.

“Am I gonna need it?”

“Hopefully not,” he yells over his shoulder.

“Very reassuring, thanks.”

Notes: This is queue. I am currently camping because today is the anniversary of my grandmother's death. Taglist will be updated when I return. Thank you for reading, I promise it gets way less depressing really soon.

-XOXO Eden

Taglist (or taglist removal)

Masterlist

@surelyfreedombound @shinshans @lonnybunnys @davianos-blog @hauntedpostperson @lizzylynch1 @kammerstx@harryssshouseee @slavicgoddess13 @persona1read1ng@katyldamusic @whore4damia @the-chaotic-cow@icarodamiano @gr8rainbowpunk@elvirabelle@bright-shiningstar@maneslut @stardustingold @little-moonbeam-666@que--sera--sera

[bullet-prooflove]

Playing The Odds: Herman Kozik x Reader

Tagging: @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @words-and-seeds @danzer8705 @yourwinchesterbros @mysoulisasunflower

When Kozik first meets you, it’s because you’ve come to his door asking for your basketball back. You’ve been shooting hoops in your yard trying to decompress when you’d bounced it over the wall and into your neighbour’s garden. When he sees you there, in an old Linkin Park t-shirt and bike shorts he thinks he falls in love. He’s been in Sonora just shy twenty-four hours and already his life has changed completely.

His place is a mess, there are boxes everywhere half unpacked, he can’t find most of the stuff he needs because his brother Nate helped him move and Nate is fucking terrible. There’s no order to the items he’s shoved in each cardboard box, and it drives Kozik insane.

“You should get out the house a little bit.” You tell him when he hands you back the orange ball. “You look like you’re going a little stir crazy.”

His palm rubs over the back of his neck, he has that itch, the one he always gets when he needs a fix. He’s been clean a eight years now but sometimes he can still feel it scratching away at the surface of his brain. He wonders if you recognise the restlessness inside him. Junkies tend to find each other but he doesn’t see any of the tell-tale signs on your skin, you look healthy, vibrant, alive.

“Come to the court around the corner, shoot a couple of hoops with me.” You request, jerking your head in the direction of the court. You’re the first person he’s met in the neighbourhood, and he already knows he’d follow you anywhere.

To be fair, it’s a nice court, not one of the run-down ones he’s used to playing on back in Tacoma, the tarmac smells fresh and he can see it practically sizzling in the afternoon sun. The two of you must be mental to play in this heat, but there’s something in you, something that tells him you need to get out of your own head as much as he does.

You play one and one, and he finds it exhilarating because you aren’t scared to get up in his face despite his size and your trash talk…

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He teases you, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. You shoot him the middle finger before pulling the twenty-dollar bill from the strap of your sports bra and flaunting it in his face.

“Remember when you used to have twenty bucks.”

Yea, you hustled him good.

Where he’s got the height and the range, you have the speed. You run rings around him, while he blocks your shots. The problem is he’s rusty. He hasn’t played since his last stint in prison a few years ago, but in a way it’s like flexing old muscles, his body remembers the moves it just takes a while for it to translate. When he bumps you, it isn’t intentional. He knows you’re going to take a tumble before it happens. He’s 6’1 and built like a brick shit house, you have no chance. He loops his arm around your waist, hauling you against him as your balance wavers.

The feel of his body against yours, that raw power and the hard plains of muscle…

You’re a goner even before those brilliant blue eyes meet yours.

“You good?” He asks, concern etched into his features as he studies your face.

Your breathings a little ragged, you can’t tell if it’s from the game or the proximity. There’s a deep throb inside of you, a heated ache that starts between your legs and rushes through your body like a narcotic. You want to pull away and you want to kiss him all at the same time, it’s a war inside of you, a tempest of visceral yearning and self-preservation because the last thing you want right now is to get involved with someone, even if it is this man, the one who makes you feel like there’s an electrical current zapping through your synapses.

“You gonna let me take you out?” He asks as he releases you from his grasp.

You step away, picking the ball up from where it’s rolled before bouncing it off the tarmac below your feet.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly, dipping your knees and lowering into an offence stance. “Now’s not really a great time for me.”

“It’s not a great time for me either.” He responds, following your lead and spreading his hands into a defensive position. “But a guy’s gotta eat.”

There’s something in the way he says it, the left corner of his mouth quirks up as your skin flushes and before you know it, the ball is out of your hands and sailing through the hoop. You give him a look and he shoots you one back.

It looks like you aren’t the only one doing a little hustling.

“Best of three.” You say to him as you reclaim the ball. “You win, you can take me out. You lose and I double my money.”

What Kozik hasn’t told you is that he almost went pro before he got addicted to coke, he’d had a scholarship lined up and everything. These past few games you’ve played, they’re just a warmup, a way of shaking the dust off because now he’s got something to aim for, an actual goal to achieve and that rallies him. He grins at you and it’s like you’re seeing the sun appear over the horizon for the first time since your life caved in on itself.

“You know what?” He says that vibrant blue eyes focusing on yours. “I really like my odds.”

Love Kozik? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[noteveryoneis]

Ava Silva’s trademarks are the mistakes she makes along the way.

She knows that, her ex knows that, her kids know that, even the cat lady across the street knows that. Everyone in her little hometown knew that.

Everyone and their mothers thought Ava Silva had hit rock-bottom when she ended up knocked up at sixteen years old by her stupid little high school boyfriend, but no, Ava kept digging. She just had to keep the baby, marry the guy and move out of the state to have two more kids with him before the age of twenty-four. JC was a good guy, he loved her, loved their girls, he was kind and he cared about them. Until he didn’t, breaking up with Ava and asking her to take full custody of the girls, without a single afterthought.

“We weren’t ready,” he had said. “I’m not ready to be a father.”

Good thing he had realized that now, their first baby was almost into her pre-teen at that point — and she had glared at him from the darkness of the hallway of their shitty little apartment as Ava sat across from him at the kitchen table, defeated.

So it’s expected for this new decision to turn out to be another mistake. Even Ava knows it.

Still, it looks good, on paper. A fresh new start. Just the four of them, Ava and her girls. Back to her hometown, the place she knows by heart and could navigate with her eyes closed. Hell, she even found a job and a whole new house — small and cramped but like Camila said it herself: “The good thing about growing up in social housing is that whatever you find here, it’s gonna look like Disneyland to them”. And yeah, she wasn’t wrong.

Ava turns right into the small driveway surrounded by yellow grass and sun-burnt rose bushes — she’s pretty sure they can save them, with determination and a lot of research on Google. The girls have their noses to the windows, except for Neves who is asleep in her child car seat. The eight hour drive has exhausted them all, the car is covered in sandwich crumbs, coffee mist — Ava’s lifesaver at that point — and Takis dust. She’s pretty sure she has a sunburn mark all around her sunglasses, but she doesn’t really know if she can get sunburned through the windshield — fingers crossed that she isn’t.

“There it is,” Ava announces as she turns off the ignition. “Our new home.”

Dear God her divorce is turning her into a middle-aged white suburban dad in a horror movie.

“It’s ugly,” Nina comments from the back seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not choosing it for its pretty face, bug,” Ava says, holding onto her patience like a life buoy (Nina hates everyone and everything since they have announced their separation, even more when it became clear that Ava was separating her from her father). “We’re choosing it because it has a roof and four walls, and good water pressure.”

And because it’s basically the only thing affordable that isn’t in a trailer park.

“I like it,” Nova comments timidly from the passenger seat.

Ava smiles at her, sending her a wink. At least that one is making it easy.

“Come on, let’s go, it’s gonna be night soon.”

The truck with their things will be here tomorrow, Camila will come to help them and properly meet the girls (according to the texts she had been sending Ava for the last few weeks, she was overly excited and bouncing around at the idea of being so close to ‘her girls’).

Ava opens the creaking door, climbs out of the car, grimacing as the joints in her knees crack painfully. Yeah. She’s definitely a middle-aged dad. The wind carries the smell of the sea all the way here, washing away the nauseous aroma of Takis and coffee, Ava already feels like she can breathe a little better.

Neves’ little head is leaning on the headrest of her car seat, cheeks red, curly dark hair drawing a halo around her little face. She looks absolutely adorable. They all did, her girls, at that age. Well, they’re still cute today, but it’s like Nova’s presence is slowly fading away from her face, and Nina was always the more flashing beauty — all in bright smiles and charming light in her eyes, just like her parents.

Ava takes great care as she unbuckles her little harness, reaching up to brush against her cheek and the softness of her eyelashes. Her baby. Her babies, they’re all her babies. 

Nina wiggles out of her seatbelt, bringing Ava back to the task at hand. 

“You girls go ahead, I’ll be right there to open the door.”

“Okay,” Nova says, unbuckling herself and climbing out, Nina jumping behind her. 

Ava brushes her lips against Neves’ forehead, stroking the pad of her thumb across her cheek. 

“Wake up, baby, we’re here.”

Neves shifts in her seat, but doesn’t even open her eyes. 

“Come on, Neves, wake up, cutie-pie, we’re home now.”

Neves shakes her head, eyes still close.

“No? You don’t want to see your room?” Ava asks, giggling a little. “Damn. That’s too bad. Guess I’ll watch Paw Patrol all alone with the girls huh. That’s sooo sad.”

That gets Neves to open one eye, squinting at her mother as if trying to call bullshit on her. Ava raises an eyebrow and Neves stretches her arms over her head, whining loudly as if to convey how tired she is. Life is hard when you’re a five year old sleeping in a car.

“I know, baby, I know,” Ava says. “Come on now, let’s go see the house.”

She reaches out and picks Neves up, hugging her to her chest with one arm under her legs as the girl ties them around her waist, burying her face in her neck. Ava pushes the door closed, makes her way around the car towards the front of the house while searching for her keys in the pockets of her shorts. Both Nova and Nina are waiting for her on the porch — yes, the porch, Ava is very proud of that one — stretching their arms, little t-shirts riding up to show their tummies. Once upon a time, Ava and JC used to tickle them every time they’d do that, starting a tickle fight that JC always won. It’s when Nova started expressing that she didn’t want that that things got a little tense, since her father didn’t understand and would get offended.

Ava shakes her head, wiggles her keys as she slides them into the lock, the key ring that Nina made for mother’s day in pre-K jiggling against her palm.

The door opens into a dark room that smells musty but that’s probably because all the windows and shutters haven’t been opened for weeks. 

“Here we are,” Ava says, turning the lights on.

An endless room stretches in front of them, turning to the right around the staircase, which is right next to the door, after the narrow hallway leading to the smallest bathroom. Ava can already see the vision: the thrifted couch and chairs, the living room table they found on the sidewalk, the cushions the girls use for a pillow fight. It will all be their space, theirs and theirs alone.

“The kitchen is all the way to the right,” Ava explains as Nova and Nina start running ahead, slowly hyping themselves up for the discovery of the house. “There is a small bedroom behind the door after the stairs, I assume it’s gonna be mine if you take the three bedrooms upstairs.”

“Wait what?”

Both girls come back running, Nina with a confused frown on her face. 

“Three bedrooms?”

“Yeah, and there is another bathroom with a bathtub for all three of you, but I gotta warn you: I’m taking a bath in there at least once every two weeks.”

“We all get a bedroom?” Nina asks again, like she didn’t hear a word of that.

“Yeah, I already told you— didn’t I tell you?” Ava frown.

“You did,” Nova whispers, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “But we didn’t know…”

They didn’t know if she could pull it off. They didn’t know if she wasn’t going to come back empty handed with a guilty and sorry look on her face, telling them that she didn’t get the place and that they were living in the trailer park after all. Ava doesn’t blame them. They’ve both done that a lot.

“So we don’t have to share?” Nina asks.

Ava shakes her head, dropping a kiss into Neves’ hair.

“Nope. Although you’re going to have to decide which one of you gets which room.”

There is a beat of silence as they all look at her, and then both of the little girls are running up the stairs, yelling at each other as Neves asks to be put down and climbs after her sisters, disappearing into the dark.

“No running into the stairs!” Ava yells, but no one listens.

All three of the girls are all shouting in a concert of little voices, trying to decide which room is the biggest — Nina is going to win, because Nova doesn’t fight, she always takes the things her sisters don’t want (bottom bunk, ugliest towel, most-worn out shoes) but right now she’s trying to cheer Nina up, and because Neves, poor little Neves, was unfortunately born to be the youngest of her sisters, and therefore she loses every single argument.

Ava shakes her head in the middle of the front door, a smile tugging at her lips.

She’s a middle-aged white suburban dad from a horror movie, and her girls are okay.