#came with a couple scratches and a crack on the back of the case from transit most likely

[coyote-cemetery]

good morning gorgeous

[storiesofsvu]

Midnight Baking

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, briefest mention ever of some unnamed stressful situation. (R doesn't want to talk about it because I was simply too lazy to come up with what was stressing them out, so...here we go. lol)

Emily stirred, her body twitching in her sleep as her nose scrunched up and she subconsciously went to pull the blankets tighter around her body. A cool breeze floated through the room from the open window, the summer night air far nicer than the scorching heat of the day. With it came a whiff of your shampoo, wafting off your pillow straight into Emily’s senses making her want to be impossibly close to you, the heat finally having vanished from the room. Rolling over she let out a groan as her body stretched itself out, pulling her slightly out of her deep sleep until her arm hit what was supposed to be your waist and her senses came to life when all she found was cold sheets.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t even want to fully wake up, but she wanted you and you certainly weren’t in the bed. She peeked one eye open, squinting around the bedroom to find it dark but the bedroom door cracked open and she wondered if you were in the bathroom. Her hand soothed up and down your side of the bed and not an inch of it held any of your remaining body heat, wherever you’d disappeared to it had not been recent. With a reluctant groan she pushed herself up to sitting, stretching out her body as she yawned, grabbing a hoodie from the floor and sliding her slippers on while she began her adventure through the house.

Upstairs was quiet, dark and empty aside from the soft snores coming from Sergio who Emily gave a little scratch on the head to as she made her way passed him. A light was left on downstairs but that was nothing new, it was instinct to always leave a couple on for the nights Emily was coming home from a case, never sure what hour she’d finally make it back to you. Wandering down the stairs she found the living room empty but a book upturned on the coffee table and a blanket crumpled up on the couch. Her lips twitched up into a grin at the thought of you burrito’d up with your favourite stories as she crossed toward the couch. She flipped the book over, sliding a bookmark into the open page before setting it back on the pile on the table, next neatly folding the blanket and laying it over the back of the couch.

A few steps later and she finally found the main source of light and you, both in the kitchen and she stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame to watch for a minute. You were lost in your element and clearly had been at it a while, there was a smudge of flour on your cheekbone, three racks of cookies already cooling and incredibly sweet smells lingering in the air. She noticed the window was wide open and upon lingering for a minute realized it must have been to combat the heat from the oven. Her eyes trailed back to you, a frown taking over her features as she began to examine yours, you were more than focused, it was almost intense, your brow furrowed, eyes narrowed just the slightest as you stirred up ingredients. She could tell you were clenching your jaw; your shoulders tense and she just knew you were holding stress in your lower back, especially with the way you kept shifting from one foot to the other to try an alleviate any hip pain.

“Didn’t realize I was living with Willy Wonka.” She teased and you jumped slightly, pulling out an ear bud.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” You pouted, taking out the other ear bud to safely drop in a ramekin before wiping off your hands as you turned to her.

“So are you.” She replied with a soft laugh, moving through the room to wipe the flour off your face, “what are you doing?”

“Well,” you let out a breath before rattling things off, “I’ve got sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies done, there’s lemon bars in the freezer setting, I just put in a batch of peanut butter cookies and am working on cupcakes. But I don’t even know if any of it will turn out, I’ve been doing it all by hand so I didn’t have to use the mixer and worry about waking you up.”

“Jeeze, how long have you been down here?”

“More than a few hours…” you replied sheepishly, your body nearly sinking around itself, “I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to disturb you so I came down here to read. But my brain just wouldn’t shut up, I needed something to make me think and I’ve always kinda been a stress baker so…” You vaguely gestured to the state of the kitchen.

“Is this about what you told me over dinner?” Emily asked, stepping toward you and squeezing softly at your elbow.

“Yeah.” You sighed, “and talking about it won’t help so I’d really rather not.”

“That’s fine.” She shrugged, glancing around, “well, can I at least help?”

“How are you helping if I don’t want to talk about it?” You turned to her with a furrowed brow and she laughed softly.

“I meant with the baking.”

“Oh!” You huffed out an embarrassed laugh, your hand coming to cover your face briefly before turning back to her with a small smile, “yeah, of course. That might even help distract me more.”

“Good.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before rolling up her sleeves, “well, what’s the next step chef?”

You giggled softly, sliding the mixing bowl you’d been using over to Emily and guiding her through the next few steps. While Emily was pretty decent in the kitchen, she certainly would never claim to have your level of skill when it came to baking and that was because she was never about following strict rules. She liked to add in her own flair, skip certain steps or mess around with the amounts and while that always worked out to delicious dinners, it would definitely result in cupcakes with the texture of sandpaper or butter tarts that were left soggy in the middle.

Having Emily in the kitchen with you not only distracted you, it calmed you down, relaxed you to a sense of peace that you’d been craving the past couple of weeks. She asked what you’d been listening to when she interrupted and you admitted with a small smile it was the road trip playlist the two of you had put together of all your favourite songs. You knew it wasn’t a road trip but music was known to bring back memories and every time you heard any of the songs you were immediately transported back to the adventures the two of you had together the previous summer. They made you feel warm and fuzzy inside and always brought a smile to your face and Emily felt the warmth bursting through her at your admittance, a grin plastered on her face while you guided her through the steps to make meringue.

The sun was nearly creeping over the horizon by the time you were finally yawning, a warm and gooey tray of cinnamon buns being pulled from the oven. Emily placed them on a rack to cool, washing her hands before turning back to you to ask what was next. Instead she caught you with your hands on your hips, chewing on your lip as you surveyed the state of the kitchen.

“You mentioned something about Rossi hosting a pretty big get together this weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Retirement party for one of the other agents on our floor, why?”

“Cause I think I maaayy have gone a little overboard.”  Your nose scrunched as you glanced over to her and she laughed softly, stepping towards you to kiss the tip of your nose, relaxing it as she did so.

“It’s the first time I’d seen you genuinely smiling all week, I wasn’t about to stop you.”

“Thanks.” Smiling softly you leant into the embrace, kissing her gently, “hope you’re ready to eat nothing but baked goods for a month.”

“Can we start with the cinnamon rolls and call it breakfast?”

An uncontrolled yawn escaped you when you opened your mouth to reply and Emily chuckled, “only if we follow it up with a nap.”

“Sounds perfect.” She pecked your cheek before moving to the cupboard, pulling down a couple of plates to serve the cinnamon buns with.

Overall you ended up with two batches of cinnamon rolls, five sheets of cookies, three dozen cupcakes consisting of vanilla, chocolate and confetti, three dozen muffins (blueberry, carrot and cranberry orange) lemon meringue pie, apple pie, lemon bars, peanut butter balls and a black forest cake. Emily stashed some of it, whether in the pantry or the freezer to save for later and helped you pack up the rest for that weekend, where you discovered Rossi was more than ecstatic to have someone else providing the goodies. Because after all, you were the baker, he was the chef, you’d stay out of each other’s ways but you each had your specialties and you were more than happy to share, especially if it meant quality time in the kitchen with Emily.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch

[m4iya]

⋆⑅˚₊ Order up! - Lemon Madelines with brownie bites to eat in coming right up!

'The Moon is beautiful, isn't it?' ft. Kei Tsukishima (angst, mutual pining)

wc. 1.2k

The sound of chalk scratching across the board echoed in her ears as she listened to the teacher at the front. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes in an attempt not to fall asleep midway through his explanation on proverbs.

“I want you all to listen carefully, some of these carry double meanings - and yes, they will be on your Literature test next week”

Murmurs and scattered complaints were heard from multiple students in the class.

Straightening her posture, she decided to pay more attention to the explanation.

Turning back to the board, he wrote down a few proverbs in English and began explaining each one.

“This one, ‘Actions speak louder than words’, is basically as it sounds. For example, when you apologise to someone, you need to show that you mean it; sorry isn’t only gonna cut it all the time.”

Following the teacher’s explanation, she wrote down the key points.

“Here’s one some of you might want to hear. ‘The Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’; it’s not your traditional proverb, but apparently it was taught by a Japanese teacher to his male students as a way for them to confess, but only under a moonlit night. A girl probably won’t take it romantically if you tell it to her in the middle of the day” a couple chuckles sounded across the classroom.

She had heard of that proverb before. She always found it hard to imagine the circumstances all coming together for this small statement to hold so much meaning. She continued note taking as the teacher moved onto the next set of proverbs.

As class came to an end and the teacher packed his materials, she closed her notebook and turned around, facing her two friends.

“Do you guys have club today?” She asked, zipping up her pen case.

“Yep!” The shorter of the two answered.

The three of them left class together and headed to each of their clubs, agreeing to meet at the gates after practice to walk home together.

Both were on the boys’ volleyball club, whereas she was in the girls’ basketball club. She had been friends with them since her second year of middle school, when she was paired with a tall blonde boy for a class project. He wasn’t loud, was relatively easy to talk to, didn’t seem to judge her, and they seemed to have a lot in common. Through him, she was introduced to his slightly timid friend, and the three of them had frequently hung out together since then.

At some point in time, she wasn’t sure when, but each time he’d speak to her, her heart seemed to beat a little faster. She felt herself becoming distracted by the smallest things about him.

His tone that was quiet but mellow. The rare moment he’d crack a smile, his eyes squinting ever so slightly. The way he walked, the way he slung his bag over his shoulder, the way he would listen so intently to her rants. She felt it then, and she still feels it now. That soft, budding warmth grew inside her chest whenever he turned to speak to her. Though the only difference was that it was becoming harder to hide.

Being paired with a girl for a class project wasn’t a big deal to him – it was just something they’d have to get done together. He was only trying to finish this task and head home as quick as he could.

So, what was keeping his gaze fixed on her?   

From the corner of his eye, he could see her notebook. One of her delicate hands was holding the page down, the other gently gripping her mechanical pencil. Her free hand lifting momentarily to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and the softness of her breathing.

His heart reverberated loudly in his chest. Picking up his pencil, he got back to work.

Slipping her head through the collar of her hoodie, she tidied up her belongings before heading out of the changing room to walk home with her friends. Shivering from the cold, she decided to slip on a pair of gloves – it was a little cold in the morning, so she was glad she had brought them with her, as the temperature dropped when the sun had set.

Walking towards the gates, she sees the two boys standing and waiting. Waving, she jogs up to them, and the three of them walk together.

“How was practice?” She asked, holding the handles of her backpack.

“Same old” Tsukishima responded.

“What did you do for practice?” Yamaguchi asked her.

“Well, we did a lot of laps today since your team was using the court”.

Shivering from the cold, she glances up, her eyes glazing over the bright full moon. Despite it being winter, the sky was clear for the first time in a while. The three of them carried on in conversation until Yamaguchi reached his house. Waving at them both, he headed inside, closing the door.

She turned back to face Tsukishima.

“My house isn’t too far from here, I can walk there myself.” She smiled.

“It’s fine. Mine’s close by as well.” He replied.

The two of them take off together, walking down the street.

Removing her hands from her pockets, she blows warm air into them, feeling the heat scatter across her cheeks, and sink into the fabric of her gloves. Placing her hands by her side, the warmth on her face continued to linger.

It was just the two of them, walking together down the street under the bright Moon. He noticed her place her hands by her side, inching closer to his own. Lifting his hand slightly, he hesitated, brushing his fingers against hers. He wavered.

And maybe that was why she shoved her hands back into her pockets.

Standing right next to him, she worried that he’d be able to hear her heart practically jumping out of her chest.

‘Did his hand bump into mine by accident?’ She thought to herself, worrying that he might think she was trying to hold his hand. It was a bright, moonlit night. The words of her teacher from earlier today replayed in her head: ‘..A way to confess, but only under a moonlit night’

No way, even if he did say it, she’d never think of it as a confession.

‘He probably only sees me as a friend.’

Her head was noisy, filled with thoughts and paranoia,  although the silence between them was practically deafening. He and her usually speak to each other without issue every day. So what was the difference now?

He found himself feeling antsy, fiddling with the hem of his jacket as he walked beside her. Her street was the next turn. If he didn’t say something now, he didn’t know how he’d be able to carry on speaking to her like nothing had happened.

At the edge of the street, right at the turnoff, Tsukishima stood still, and looking up at the sky; he said:

“The Moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Standing a few steps in front, her gaze fell over him. Unable to see his facial expression properly; his head remained facing upwards.

That wasn’t a confession, right? He’d probably laugh if she said anything of the sort, right?

She had to come up with an answer, and fast. Unable to balance between a confession and a regular statement, the growing silence between them engulfed her thoughts.

Preparing herself to speak, she felt her heart sink. With tear glossed eyes, she glanced upwards at the Moon.

“So very beautiful.”

Mya's Bakery Event 𝜗𝜚 other works

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

complicated

bucky barnes x reader

summary: things had been uncomplicated between Bucky and you, then things ended. Now he’s seeing you again after months and he realizes he never wanted things to end. Do you feel the same?

“...and if my wishes came true, it would have been you.”

Sirens rang in Bucky’s ears; the flashing lights illuminated his face as he stared straight ahead. Agents’ mule around in the background as Sam talks to a few – Bucky never did the talking and he was glad about it, especially now. He hadn’t seen you in what felt like years, but months would be more accurate. You stood tall but looked stressed; hands firm on your hips as you listened to what he assumed was a subordinate. Nodding as they spoke to you, he didn’t know your division was working on this case too. But why would he? He wasn’t a man in the loop, and he liked it that way; Sam was the one that did the planning and arranging, he just showed up for the job.

Bucky couldn’t stop staring, everything around him went dark and it was like there was a spotlight shining down on you. Face stern, hair brushed back behind ears. He knew the look of concentration on your face and for a moment, he smiled. His head ached a bit, he had been bleeding from his head earlier but now everything was dried and matted on his skin.

“You’re staring too hard.”

Bucky blinked and looked at his partner. “You didn’t tell me she would be here.”

Sam shrugged. “Need to know basis, remember?”

Right, his own policy.

“You should go say hi at least, better than staring like a stalker.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Bucky frowned when his friend patted him hard on the back, leaving him to his brooding. He stood among the crowd of agents, deciding on whether it would be okay to say hello. The two of you hadn’t talked in so long and the last time you did, things didn’t feel right. It wasn’t like you were a couple, it had never gotten that serious. Things hadn’t gotten the chance to even become serious – workload and ambition had gotten the best of you, he tried to be understanding. While you were in this lifestyle for want, he just was around because what else was someone like him to do?

It started off innocently enough – flirtation over beers, blowing off steam with Sam and others in the field. A gang of friends turned family, but things never got complicated. A kiss led to another than he had you in his bed, sometimes in your bed and most times, in hotels while on the job. It had been light, free, and sweet. Then he started to get attached, he felt himself going in a direction that didn’t seem to even cross your mind. Bucky started to crave you in ways more than sex; he wanted to hold your hand, share a meal with you, scratch your back until you fell asleep beside him.

It started to feel dangerously close to love and it scared him.

The sirens died down and that’s when you noticed him. Bucky’s heart flinched when you met his gaze and he couldn’t bring himself to smile, even as you started towards him. His eyes followed your every step and when you finally stood in front of him, he still couldn’t smile.

“Bucky.”

He wanted to smile then, but he just asked how you were. Your face softened; a sigh rolled off your shoulders. “Tired as shit. I’m glad this case is over; I need a vacation.”

The notion of you vacationing finally made him crack and he smirked. “Have you ever taken a vacation?”

“Yeah, when I was twelve.”

Bucky stared at you and then the two of you shared a laugh, and it felt wonderful. It felt like air finally whistled down his lungs and he could breathe. You grinned and touched his shoulder, smile fading as your eyes fell. His shoulders slumped as he held your arm by the elbow, asking what was wrong. It could see it in your face, that you were crumbling from the inside. He recognized the look because he saw it every morning in the mirror.

Your fingers touched the lapel of his leather jacket. “I’m sorry…”

Voice quiet, shameful.

He stood quietly among the noise.

“…I was scared because things were starting to feel different. I started to feel differently about you, Bucky.”

Oh, he frowned. This is where you were going to break his heart. You were going to explain why you had stopped taking his calls, ‘ghosting’ him as Sam explained. Even stopped talking cases with the pair, switching agencies to get away from him. His mouth dried as you looked at him and he wanted to walk away, cover his ears. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say because then he couldn’t go on with his delusion. That you just weren’t ready, that if circumstances had been different, the two of you would be together today.

That everything would be different.

“I was falling in love with you…”

The word love struck him awake and all his senses warmed his body, catching your hand as it fell from his jacket. His fingers gripped around your wrist and his eyes examined your face – trying to understand what you were saying to him, right to his face.

“…I didn’t think you felt the same, we always kept things uncomplicated, and I thought you liked it that way. That’s why I stopped coming around.”

“Shit.”

The word slipped through his lips, and he was instantly annoyed at himself, but you laughed. “Shit? We haven’t seen each other in months, and I just poured my heart out to you – in front of all these people, mind you and all you can say is shit?”

Bucky dipped his head back and took a deep breath, holding onto your hand so you wouldn’t dare leave. He wasn’t going to let you leave his life again, not ever again. Warming his smile, he carefully pulled you closer as if that would give the two of you some privacy. He reached for your face with both hands and grinned.

“I want complicated.”

Your chest ached in delight. “You do?”

Words careful and concerned.

Bucky nodded, face serious. “I love you and I’ve missed you.”

Forgetting that you were a known hard ass among your peers, you practically leaped into Bucky’s arms. He embraced you, lifting your feet off the ground and holding you tight against his body. His warmth engulfed you and all you could do is think of a vacation with him. Lounging in bed, talking walks on the street – hand in hand. Sharing meals and falling asleep to the feeling of his fingers dragging against your back. All the things you had been earning for all these months, were finally going to come to fruition; and when his lips brushed against yours, you didn’t care if the whole world was watching.

Pulling your head back after a moment, you beamed at Bucky.  “I love you too.”

[bitethedustfools]

TWST Story Idea (14)

Warning: Spoiler and Mild Gore

If overblots are dangerous to those who overuse magic, then how dangerous is it for a magicless student who has never touched magic to be exposed to one?

No one knew. After all, this had never happened before until Yuu appeared, but even then, it was too late to understand not process how severe it was.

Yuu's first exposure to an overblot was in the dwarf mine where they came face to face with an unknown being.

The black liquid sloshed in the damaged jar for a head, its contents leaking out of its cracks, and its whole lower body was replaced by a sludge of black, forming a trail behind it as it moved.

Yuu made the mistake of touching the liquid, unaware of its danger and distracted by adrenaline rushing through their veins.

It was when everything was over that Yuu felt a bit off but quickly dismissed it as weariness and being subjected to a new and stressful environment.

-

The second was Riddle Rosehearts's overblot, where the experience was much different from the first. Yuu could see the surroundings being affected. The rose bushes were dug out of their place and floated ominously amongst the equally ominous red mist and sky.

Riddle's appearance changed, and with that, a being that Yuu came to learn as a Phantom popped up behind him, and it was much larger than the first one and so, so angry.

Yuu felt scared as the phantom wielding the rose bush towered over them, the ink, akin to blood, spilt over their face and shoulders.

The rose bush turned to cards before it managed to smash them to nothing but a puddle of blood, torn flesh and broken bones.

The cards scratched Yuu, and blood and ink mixed together.

Yuu fell terribly sick that day at the unbirthday party but felt a bit better after a couple of days.

-

The third was Leona Kingscholar.

The sand particles floated all over the area, and it was so dense it made Yuu choke and become thirsty. It clung to them and stuck on their eyes like a second skin, uncomfortably so with its rough texture.

The roaring of a Phantom with a lion with stitched skin for a body and a cracked jar for a head echoed all over the place. A distinct deep laugh could be heard in the background.

Yuu was scared of dying, they were scared of not knowing anything and facing the enemy blind, scared of not being able to do anything when their life was in danger.

Yuu was scared of not being able to go home in one piece or not being able to return at all.

When it was over, Yuu found themselves distracted and out of touch with the surrounding.

A good hit from the disc unto the head made Yuu unconscious, and when they woke up, they got distracted once more.

-

The fourth was Azul Ashengrotto.

Yuu did not feel scared this time, but they were angry. Upset at how this had happened to them for the fourth time in a row.

Come to think of it, this wouldn't have happened if those friends of theirs hadn't done stupid things like striking a deal, would it? Yuu wouldn't have gotten dragged into it if they hadn't begged for their help, would they?

Yuu shouldn't be involved in this and deal with the aftermath if those friends knew the consequence of their own actions.

Yuu's gaze bore deep into their soul.

And the ink goes drip, drip, drip into the puddle of ink.

The fifth was Jamil Viper, the Vice Housewarden.

Quite frankly, Yuu had looked forward to the holiday. No friends, no headmaster, no students roaming around the school for Yuu to talk to with the exception of Grim, which is an avoidable case.

Yuu is fully aware of the feelings that grew inside of them and attempted to quell it using this opportunity.

Yuu wanted to rest, enjoy some time to themself until Kalim insisted on inviting them to have a party back in his dorm.

Yuu rejected once and twice and more, only to be dragged there the moment Grim voiced out his disagreement and promptly accepted the invitation.

Yuu felt anger and dissatisfaction growing inside.

They felt sick looking at the feast spreading from one edge to another, weary of dealing with Grim and Kalim's antics and developed a fever under the burning sun.

The only time they got better was when they snapped at Kalim for his foolishness and naivety that started to get on their nerves, but even then, the feelings didn't go away all that much. It still lingered and steadily grew.

Yuu sat down and hid, waiting for the others to deal with the overblot. It was their fault, not Yuu's, so they should deal with that.

-

The sixth overblot was Vil Schoenheit.

Yuu was not pleased that their dorm was being used to house the participants of VDC when Yuu themself wasn't part of it. Why was Yuu in charge of them? Why was Vil bossing them around? Why was their privacy being invaded?

Why did nobody ask Yuu at all?

Yuu barely batted an eye when Vil overblotted, even as the stage shook and crumbled. Even if his youth seeped out blink of an eye and restored the next.

Yuu was angry. Yuu was tired. Yuu was…

Hungry.

Yuu doesn't remember what happened next, but Yuu recalled that they stole something from Grim and attempted to eat it before waking up with ugly scratches all over their arms, face, and throat and Grim crying next to their bedside.

Yuu turned away.

-

And then seventh and eighth overblot was Idia Shroud and Malleus Draconia respectively.

These two were the most stressful moments and life-threatening situations to ever happen to Yuu.

Stepping into the island of woe where a bunch of phantoms imprisoned and a dream casted by Malleus where Yuu got dropped into a war and the Sage Island covered by a wall of thorns, isolated from the rest.

Yuu got tired of being drenched in the ink and the blood that looked so real. Yuu got tired of being dragged into every problem just to save someone.

Yuu ate the black Magestones that they managed to lay their hands on. Collecting them like treasures and eating them while savoring the taste.

The Magestones easily crushed in between their molars. The bitterness began to coat the tongue that overpowered their senses that they wanted to spit them back out.

Still, Yuu chewed. The liquid flowed to the back of the throat, and then, the sweetness began to pop up, dancing on the taste bud and then gone in an instant.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

There is no more taste left. Yuu yearned for more, but there's none left. Irrational anger and sorrow overwhelmed them.

Tears began to form and dropped down their cheeks, staining them black that is ink.

Drip, drip, drip.

The palms are coated with ink, and the floor began to form a small puddle, seeping into their dark clothes.

Yuu is starting to hate the color black and the chemical scent that came with it.

-

The ninth was Grim.

There is no phantom, there is only him, except he is not him anymore.

He is no longer tiny nor did he have a cat-like appearance and lacked his arrogant and narcisstic personality.

He is huge and now possessed bunch of tentacles and a snake for extra limbs. The blue flame surrounded his neck area like a lion's mane, enhancing the terrifying face of the beast that loomed over them.

The whole place got destroyed, and the students either ran away or were injured, but Yuu cared nothing like that.

Their vision fixed on a certain item while their palms bled ink upon grasping the broken glasses tightly

The mirror that was suppose to be Yuu's way home was smashed to smithereens, reflecting Yuu's despairing expression a thousand times as if to mock them.

-

The tenth and the final overblot was themself.

[jinxedruby]

Whumptober Day Ten: Blow to the Head/Slurred Words

Featuring Hyrule and Four.

Heads up for major injury in this one

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

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

Hyrule leaned back against a tree with a sigh. The boughs overhead held the hot midday sun at bay. His calves ached dully from the long hike and he folded in half at the waist, reaching for the ground and stretching the cramp out of the muscles.

“Need some water, Traveler?”

A canteen appeared in his vision. He straightened up to see Four holding it out to him.

“The collector used his ice rod on it so it’s nice and cold.”

“In that case, don’t mind if I do,” Hyrule said, taking the flask with a grin. He tipped it back, refreshingly cold water rushing into his mouth and down his throat. He felt it all the way to his belly, a pleasant chill spreading through his chest. He lowered it after a few swallows, handing it back to Four with thanks.

“Speaking of water, it’s probably time to fill up again,” Hyrule remarked, pushing himself away from the tree. He reached back for his nearly empty waterskin. “I don’t think that stream that we passed earlier is too far.”

“I’ll come with,” Four said.

Hyrule gave him a grateful smile. After telling the others where they were going, they set off back down the trail together. They didn’t need to walk too far, only trekking for a couple minutes before the bubbling and tumbling sound of water skipping over rocks became audible. They left the path, weaving around shrubs and trees before the shallow stream came into view.

Hyrule’s gaze skimmed across the surface of the water. The spots within arm’s reach from the shore were too shallow, barely half a finger deep. Four hopped from the shore to a rock jutting out of the water to reach the deeper center of the stream. He crouched down and dipped the mouth of his canteen beneath the surface. Seeing no other rocks like Four’s nearby, Hyrule walked farther downstream. His boots pressed prints into the ground, the dirt having been softened by the proximity to the water. He kept his eyes fixed on the stream, walking until it became deep enough for the mouth of his waterskin.

He stopped and stepped closer to the water, dropping into a crouch. As he did, he noticed shallow indentations in the dirt around his feet. Frowning, he moved one boot aside to reveal his own footprint, the type of indentation matching those around him. Something unpleasant settled in his gut. He pressed his lips together, trying to shake off the feeling. It was a stream by a trail, there were bound to be footprints of other travelers like themselves stopping for a drink. He was likely just paranoid since travelers were mostly nonexistent in his era.

He leaned forward, dipping the waterskin into the stream to fill it. His eyes kept drifting to the unfamiliar footprints. After a few moments of stewing in the bad feeling, he relented with a sigh.

He turned to call to Four. “Hey, Sm-”

His voice caught, eyes widening. Two men stood on either side of Four, holding him fast as he struggled against them. One had an arm tight around Four’s middle, the other hand clamped over the smith’s mouth and stifling his cries. Four’s eyes blazed, gaze locked onto Hyrule as he scratched and kicked.

Hyrule shot to his feet. One hand flew to his sword hilt as he dropped the waterskin. He took a step, drew in a breath to shout for the others. Movement flashed on his left. He couldn’t turn quick enough. Something heavy cracked against his temple and sent him hurtling into darkness.

Pain drilled into Hyrule’s head, thorns scraping against the backs of his eyes. He drew in a sharp breath involuntarily that made pressure spike in his skull. He released the breath in a groan. Something prodded at his lower back. He struggled to pry his eyelids apart. One eye peeled open before immediately slamming shut again. The sliver of light that made it through burst like a bomb in his skull, shards of pain rocketing about inside it. He felt another groan crawl its way from his throat and the prodding at his back grew more insistent.

“-eler? Say something, can you hear me?” Four’s voice gradually rose to his awareness, quiet and raspy.

Hyrule dislodged his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “H… wh… Smith…?” His words came out cracking and slurred. He tried to shift after speaking. He felt himself in a sitting position, hamstrings numb and shoulders burning.

“Oh, thank the goddesses,” Four breathed. His voice came from behind Hyrule.

Hyrule rolled his head to the side, trying again to open his eyelids. The sliver of light exploded across his vision but he forced his eyes to stay even slightly open, hoping they’d adjust. He found he couldn’t move his arms, the limbs wrapped around something behind him and bound at the wrists. Something warm pressed against his curled fingers. Only when he felt vibration as Four spoke did he recognize it as the smith’s back.

“Some bandits grabbed us,” Four murmured. The prodding at Hyrule’s back resumed. Hyrule distantly linked it to Four’s hands, tied behind him in the same fashion as Hyrule.

“Sounds like they want to ransom us back to the others. Must’ve seen all our gear and thought we were well-off.”

Hyrule blinked slowly, struggling to process the words. The light hadn’t let up in its intensity at all, his vision reduced to a slice of white with shadowy blobs of color poking through. A sharp ache speared through his shoulders. He tried to readjust, forgetting for a moment why he couldn’t do that. The attempted motion increased the pounding in his head and he let his eyes fall shut again with another groan. Four’s hands jostled abruptly against his back, accompanied by a hushed curse from the smith.

“I almost-” Four abruptly fell silent.

“Hey, the other one’s awake,” an unfamiliar voice called.

Footsteps crunched through grass and dirt toward them. Hyrule struggled to lift his head, pressure building behind his brow and threatening to fracture his skull. Words that he didn’t process drifted past him. Four’s back rumbled against his hands in a shout that stabbed Hyrule’s ears. All at once, a hand grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up. Nausea rushed up his tongue and he clenched his teeth against it, prying his eyes open. He could just make out a vague silhouette of someone crouched before him.

“I said, don’t touch h-!” Four’s yell cut off into muffled shouts. Hyrule felt the smith’s hands tighten as he thrashed, someone grunting.

The hand on Hyrule’s chin twisted his face to one side, shoving his head against the structure he’d been tied to. He thrust his boots forward, heels scraping across the ground as he tried to kick the man in front of him. The sole of his boot connected with something, but the hand only held him tighter. Fingers prodded at his wounded temple, the feeling like needles burrowing into his skin. He hissed in pain, struggling weakly. Four yelled, muffled and strained. The fingers pushed Hyrule’s hair aside, the strands peeling away from wet and tacky skin. Then the man holding him let out a harsh sigh. He released Hyrule’s head, letting it fall forward. Hyrule’s vision darkened and grew splotchy at the sharp motion. He shut his eyes, lips pulling back in a weak grimace as he clung to the vestiges of consciousness.

“He’ll survive.” The man’s voice found its way through the water in Hyrule’s ears, warbled and distant. “Long enough, anyway. Get the message to their friends. And someone gag him.”

More muffled shouts erupted from Four. Quick footsteps approached, followed by the sound of something soft being struck. “Shut up!” a different voice demanded. Four growled but stopped shouting.

A hand shoved Hyrule’s head back again. Vertigo slammed into him at the abrupt motion and he grunted, desperately trying to remain conscious. If the man said something, he didn’t hear it, hearing muffled to the point of oblivion. A cloth jammed between his lips and he clenched his jaw, keeping his teeth locked together. The hand tightened around his face, nails digging into his skin. The man shook him, black stars bursting behind Hyrule’s eyelids, but he kept his teeth together. Eventually, the hand released, only for the cloth to wrap forcefully across his mouth and around his head. He tried to struggle but could hardly move through the haze of pain of dizziness. The man knotted the cloth tightly at the nape of his neck, the pressure of it making the throbbing in his skull that much stronger. The hands released him, his chin dropping to his chest. Nausea rolled up his throat from the severity of his splitting headache. He could only take slow breaths through his nose and pray he didn’t vomit into the gag.

He couldn’t tell how long he sat like that. Voices swelled and faded around him, everything reduced to a mushy mess of sensations and pain, harsh light and muffled noise. He’d forgotten about Four’s hands at his back until he noticed them missing. Panic flared in his lungs. He lifted his head, vision a swimming, splotchy mess of reds, whites, and blacks. Had the captors taken Four? Were they going to kill him? Hyrule could hardly focus past the migraine, he didn’t know what had happened.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, Traveler,” Four’s hushed voice sounded directly by his ear, barely loud enough to be audible. Fingers gently pried at the gag around his face, pulling it down. Hyrule dragged in a gasp the moment his mouth was free. He squinted, trying to see past the blazing sun to Four’s face. Fingers ghosted along his temple and he flinched away.

“Oh, your head,” Four breathed. “Just hold on, I’ll-”

Four fell silent. Hyrule could just make out Four’s straight blond hair filling his vision, red and white feather earring swinging from the quick turn. Hyrule strained his ears, trying to hear past his heart’s pulsing. He barely heard the sounds of unfamiliar voices.

“H...hide,” he murmured. A blur of yellow indicated Four turning back to look at him. Hyrule couldn’t see well enough to make out any features aside from too many colors swirling where he figured the smith’s eyes were.

“But…”

The voices grew closer. “Hide,” Hyrule stressed.

Four hesitated. Then he muttered something under his breath, scrambling to his feet. A hand squeezed Hyrule’s shoulder. “I’ll come back.”

He vanished between one blink and the next. Hyrule relished breathing deeply through his mouth while he still could. He gave his arms a tug but the ropes held fast. He closed his eyes again, carefully tipping his head back to rest against the structure. The voices rose sharply, footsteps pounded closer. Hyrule could do nothing but wait.

(Concluded here)

[manicplank]

what scars do you think the cast have, if any?

Scars (tw? maybe? no mention of bad things, though. tw just in case.)

Peppino: Has some minor scarring. They're mostly from being attacked by The Noise (stabs, teeth marks, scratches, etc).

Gustavo: None.

Mr. Stick: None.

Pepperman: None.

The Vigilante: They're very subtle, but they're small hardened areas. (Imagine dry hard spots on liquid cheese.) They're from his previously battles and shootouts with criminals. (stabs, bullet holes, etc).

The Noise: Amazingly, he has no scars.

Noisette: No scars, but has some minor stretch marks on her hips.

Fake Peppino: Not possible.

Pizzahead: He's probably been stabbed by The Noise a couple times... So maybe just two or three. (His scars have the same appearance and consistency of Vigi's.)

Pillar John: His cracks and chips count as scarring in his species. He has fallen quite a few times. A lot of his cracks came from the tower.

Gerome: Only has one crack on his lower back. He fell and landed on his butt hard enough to get a crack halfway on his back. (His sprite has a literal ass crack lmao.)

[hoffstrap-yuri]

For Sickness and in Health (Insurance)

ao3 // masterlist

*SUMMARY: Agent Strahm was by the book when it came to solving cases. Being honest about his marital status was a different story entirely.

*RATING: +18 for Explicit Mature Content

*CONTENT/TAGS: M/M, Hoffstrahm, Coffinshipping, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Fake Marriage/Dating, Fake Relationship, Eventual Smut, Alternate Universe

*STATUS: Chapter 1/2

Author's Note: Second chapter of this fic can be found here! Woo my first MLM saw fic, it's only fitting it'd be coffinshipping. Huge thanks to @cubestrahm for helping me stay motivated on this project, and come up with an ending for it <3

There was an eerie silence in the air. Hoffman was in the middle of his daily crossword puzzle, scratching his head at what possibly could be the answer for 5 down. Strahm took a glance at the desk across from him before clearing his throat. When Hoffman didn’t look up the first time, he cleared it again with more phlegm coming up.

“Do you need something, special agent?” Hoffman finally looked up from his crossword. To say he was mildly annoyed by the other middle aged man would be an understatement. Unless he had the answer to 23 across, Hoffman didn’t want to hear a damn word come from his mouth.

Strahm took a deep breath before he said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Ask Perez.” Hoffman replied, turning his eyes back down to the paper in front of him

“Would if I could, believe me.” Strahm propped his head up against his fingers, “See… I need you to.”

“Yeah?” Hoffman raised an eyebrow, bringing his coffee cup up to his lips. He started to take a sip when Strahm said maybe the most outlandish thing that Mark had ever heard in his life,

“I need you to pretend to be my wife.”

Hoffman spit out his coffee, droplets making it onto Strahm’s crisp white shirt across the two desks.

“Agent Strahm, are you high?”

“No.”

“Then what the hell are you smoking,” Hoffman sputtered as he kept trying to string words together. Something to make a coherent sentence. “Are you insa… Actually, I’ve seen the footage of your interview with Jill Tuck. I know you’re insane. Why would I even entertain this idea, Special Agent?”

“You get better insurance?” Strahm shut his eyes, hoping that the offer of a better plan would be enough to entice the man before him. There was a pause in their banter. Peter couldn’t believe that Mark would actually even consider this.

“Does the plan include dental?”

“Wait you don’t get dental?”

“I do.” Hoffman scoffed, “But I have a ridiculous co-pay. What’s yours look like?”

“500.”

“… Fine. What do you need from me?”

“Just come with me to DC. We’ll talk to an HR person for an hour, get the paperwork sorted out, and we both get better insurance.”

“I can do that.”

“Alright.” Strahm said with a heavy sigh of relief. He was still quiet around Hoffman the next couple of minutes until Perez came back from lunch. Naturally, Strahm turned his back away from the other man to talk to his partner. Hoffman pulled a straw wrapper off the side of his desk he’d been meaning to throw out anyway, crumpled it up, and threw it at the back of Strahm’s head. When Strahm turned around to see whether something had actually hit him, Mark played coy. Almost too coy. Strahm raised an eyebrow at him, trying to goad him into a confession. Other, weaker, men would have folded under the gaze of the man with immaculate eyelashes, but Mark was stronger than that. Or so he thought at the very least. Mark leaned forward on his desk and rested his head on his fists, inviting some kind of challenge from the agent. As Strahm opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal, he thought long and hard whether a fight right now was worth it. He zipped his own lips back up and turned back around to talk with Perez.

‘Did she know?’ Mark wondered to himself, ‘About Strahm’s stupid little plan?’

Strahm massaged the wedding band on his finger, as if a sign to Hoffman that he heard his thoughts. That Lindsay was in on the whole scam too. She had to know… He shook his head and tried to clear the thought from his head. Maybe Hoffman was the one really getting scammed.

---

“Nice ride.” Hoffman slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at the car behind Strahm parked in Hoffman’s driveway.

“Shut up.”

“First road trip…”

“Don’t.” Strahm pointed at his partner in crime, “Don’t finish that sentence.”

“Aw, afraid you’re gonna like hearing the words ‘newlyweds’ come from my mouth?” Hoffman got up in Strahm’s face. Strahm’s lips were mere inches from brushing up against Hoffman. He felt the tickle of a sharp inhale from the detective’s nose and the heavy sigh when the air came back up along his upper lip. Peter turned his head away so he didn’t have to look into Mark’s eyes. He turned on the back of his heels and opened up the trunk for Mark to put his bag inside of. Mark plopped his bag down next to what he assumed was Strahm’s overnight bag before attempting to open the back passenger side door.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Strahm asked, sticking his head out of his window

“Sitting in the back, idiot. What does it look like I’m doing?” Mark wriggled the handle some more

“Why the hell would you sit back there?”

“So I can get some sleep.”

“And make me feel like a damn taxi driver; I don’t fucking think so. Sit up here.”

“Fine.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and got into the seat across from Strahm. He crams himself in before feeling up the seat to find the height adjuster. He pushed it as far back as it would go and crossed his legs before pressing his weight up against the car door.

“Here, grab the directions from the glove compartment.” Strahm said. He wrapped an arm around the headrest of Hoffman’s seat as he backed up from the driveway. Hoffman handed him the three sheets of paper folded into threes. Before handing it off however, he took a peek under the fold to see where the MapQuest directions lead to. Some two-star hotel on the DC-Maryland border. Not that Hoffman had any right to complain about the lodging, but he wondered if the accommodations were coming from the FBI or Strahm’s wallet.

“Take a left here. It’ll be faster and it’s easier to get on the turnpike.” Hoffman pointed up a couple of blocks ahead of them. Strahm gave him an apprehensive look before following the instructions the other man gave him. “Nice smooth merge instead of fighting.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Take it you don’t go home much? Or am I not good enough to bring home to mom?” Hoffman asked as he handed the papers off finally.

“What are you on about now?”

“Why aren’t you taking me to your place?”

“My place?” Strahm looked at him, more confused than ever

“In DC.”

With a sharp inhale Strahm asked, “Do you think every FBI agent is based out of Washington DC? Are you really that stupid, Detective?”

“Maybe I am.” Hoffman shrugged nonchalantly. Was Hoffman trying to scam him, even now? A blood vessel was popping on the edge of Strahm’s forehead and he could feel it. That seemed to make Hoffman’s lips curl at the ends ever so deviously. So it was all a fucking joke. “What’s the plan?”

“What?” Strahm’s attention returned in that moment.

“When we get to DC, smart ass.”

“Go to sleep. Get up in the morning, go to the office, and get this done. We’ll be home by tomorrow night.”

“How punctual.” Hoffman purred. “Did you bring something for me to wear?”

“No, why the hell would I do that?” Strahm asked.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you, this was your plan. I thought you asked me because you had something already.” Hoffman sat up in his seat, giving the other man a dumbfounded look

“I asked because you’re the only one not in the registry like Perez is. I mean why the hell wouldn’t you go out and buy a cheap dress or something after I told you about this?”

Hoffman just sighed before realizing the implication of this. “So guess that means you have to take me shopping.”

“What you want to go to the National Mall for that, dumb ass?”

“And if I do?” Hoffman smirked. He was clearly enjoying himself far too much. On the other hand, it took every bone in Strahm’s body to keep the two of them from careening off the highway and into the Atlantic ocean. Most of the car ride was in silence after that. Mark would occasionally peer out the window when they crossed a river, making it damn near impossible for him to get his planned nap in during the drive. Like that, they were pulling up into the parking lot of their hotel. Strahm left the car on while he checked in, and made a motion out to Hoffman when they were all set. Strahm walked back out to the car and sat in the driver’s seat before looking behind him.

“Where are we going?”

“To go shopping.” Strahm said with a sigh.

---

“Where to first?” Hoffman asked, stepping out of the car. Strahm hadn’t allowed for any stops on their way down south, so getting out to stretch was completely out of the question. Now that he was free, Hoffman lifted his arms over his head and let out a yawn. Strahm shot him a look before saying,

“It was only three hours, you don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“It was four.” Hoffman corrected him. Strahm just rolled his eyes and locked his car, walking away from the verbal conflict.

“Let’s go find you a dress first.” Strahm said in a hushed voice. Not that there was anyone else in the garage, but if there was he was worried someone would hear the two male voices.

“Does it have to be a dress? Or do you just want to emasculate me?” Hoffman growled slightly.

“There’s no way you’d fit in a woman’s suit.” Strahm stated, as if it was common knowledge. “And this is the FBI, you have to look halfway decent.”

“Your wish is my command, hubby.” Hoffman slapped on the most offensively fake smile as they walked into the mall. While neither of the men knew the layout of the mall, Strahm seemed to fall in behind Hoffman. This was unlike his usual behavior back in New York but Hoffman didn’t think it was worth getting into. They walk up to a directory and find a shop to pick a dress out from, first trying the anchor stores and getting nowhere with that. They tried a specialty store next, with more results. The only issue is the staff seemed to glare as the two men rummaged through the racks to find something that would fit a man like Hoffman. Hoffman noticed that Peter kept stealing looks as he would step out from the dressing room to look at the dress in the full length mirror. “Here, this should fit, but I need to to zip the back up.”

“Fine.” Strahm approached Hoffman and pulled the zipper up. It seemed to fall back as it was just about to close so Strahm told him, “Suck your gut in.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hoffman rolled his eyes and sucked his stomach in. The zipper went up fine and Strahm secured it with the tiny hooks on the back. His hands slowly lingered onto Hoffman’s hips as they looked at the outfit in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, you just look like a nice broad now.” Strahm replied quickly, before realizing where his hands were resting. He took a step back and Hoffman did a half spin to see what his back looked like in the dress, “I think it’ll work.”

“Yeah.” Strahm’s eyes wandered up at the ceiling. Hoffman reveled in this power and slid his hands down his hips with a whistle. Strahm turned his head back to look at the other man before darting his eyes away again. Like fucking putty in Mark’s hands. He walked back to his dressing room, came back out, and quickly threw the garment into Peter’s arms. Strahm shuffled to catch it before Hoffman walked past him and back into the store. Strahm veered towards the cashier before Hoffman pulled him by the back of his shirt and asked,

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To check out.”

“Not before I get some accessories.” He turned Strahm around and took a look at the gaudy earrings the store had on display

“You don’t even have piercings.” Strahm huffed quietly, “You’re not about to get them pierced for this.”

“And if I wanted to?”

“I’d tell you ‘you’re insane’ and pull you out of Claire’s. Dumbass.”

“Well at the very least, you can treat your wife to a nice necklace.”

“Fine.” Strahm sighed, feeling the grip Hoffman had on him growing tighter. “We can go to a jewelry store for that.”

“God you really know how to spoil a woman, it’s a wonder you’re not actually married.” Hoffman teased him, taking the dress from his hands and bringing it up to the counter himself. The cashier at the time didn’t seem to care that two men approached her with a feminine dress. She finished the transaction as quickly as she could, and went back to sulking while the two men headed back into the mall. Hoffman dragged Strahm back to a directory to plan their next course of action. It would be shoes, makeup, and jewelry in that order. There were more than a few instances where Hoffman didn’t need to be so close to the FBI agent, but would still press his body up against the other man. Like when a family tried to walk around the two of them. It would turn Strahm’s face an embarrassing red to have the fabric of Hoffman’s shirt slide across the leather of his jacket. In a low voice that he was certain only Strahm would hear he’d say, “My bad.”

“Just shut up and keep walking” or some variation were the only words Strahm was able to eek out. They managed to find some heels that weren’t ridiculously chunky, and Hoffman could balance on before going to a makeup store in the mall. They found a disgustingly light powder pink that the saleswoman said ‘any girl would love’, while Strahm stood out in the mall proper pretending that he was just shopping with a friend after work. She also threw in some samples that Hoffman didn’t really seem to understand, but was thankful he wasn’t buying any more makeup than was necessary. Not that it was on his dime, but he’d have no use for it after this elaborate fraud. Next, the two walked around a jewelry kiosk. Mark pointed at a diamond necklace and Strahm nearly cussed him out there in front of the sales clerk but just handed the Amex over before there was any questions. They walked back to the car before Strahm excused himself and headed to the bathroom.

“You really can’t wait for 20 minutes to get to the hotel?” Hoffman asked him, rolling his eyes

“It’s four o’clock, there’s no way in hell the ride is only going to be 20 minutes.” Strahm retorted before going in. Hoffman waited impatiently, stamping his foot down and glancing at the clock. How long did it take this idiot to piss? Out of the corner of his eye, Hoffman saw another store that he ducked into. If he was going to be Strahm’s wife, he was going to make the agent really regret it. He hurried back to the spot where Strahm was just zipping up his jacket. “Where were you?”

“Looking at Auntie Anne’s, the fuck does it matter to you?”

With a huff Strahm replied, “Whatever” before beginning the walk back to the car. This time Hoffman was sure to follow behind the agent. He seemed more… on edge than he had been this morning on Hoffman’s doorstep. Were the nerves setting in? Was his bravado really that fragile that shopping for women’s clothing was going to trip up Special Agent Peter Strahm?

“You seem tense.” Hoffman remarked

“I’m fine.” Strahm dodged the accusation, but not very well. There was almost an edge of bitterness in his words. He seemed to realize how rude he’d sounded by the way his eyes softened and said again, “I’m fine” in a much gentler tone.

“Nervous?”

“About?”

“Lying to your employer, the federal government?”

“No. No that’s the easy bit.”

“Easy, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve deceived the government before.”

“Yeah. Then when they caught me in my lie about 5 years later just told them it was a clerical error.”

“How rebellious of you. Never in my wildest dreams could I see you, Agent Strahm, bending the rules. Much less for your amusement.”

“And you’ve always filed your taxes on time.” Strahm laughed

“I’d never mess with my taxes.” Hoffman replied with a slight frown

“Sure thing, altar boy."

[something-tofightfor]

Second and Goal

Pairing: Daniel (Wing Pit SNL sketch character) x Female Reader

Word Count: 6,873

Rating: M - little bit of language, little bit of suggestion. Raider is a literal angel.

Summary: Year 2 of watching the Super Bowl with Daniel looks - and feels - a little different. Plans change, but you're both ready for it.  

Author’s note:

I was very excited to get back to writing for these two, and with last week's Super Bowl pairing, it seemed like the right time. This sets up a couple other potential pieces for them, too... if anyone's interested.

The masterlist for this pairing can be found here in case you need or want to catch up. Enjoy!

You were glad that you’d volunteered to take a shower first. While Daniel was in the bathroom, you curled back up in his bed, closing your eyes and listening to the sound of the running water. 

There wasn’t enough time to get truly comfortable. 

Hopefully, though, there’d at least be time for the Excedrin that you’d taken to start working. Because today’s important. Groaning, you rolled onto your side - and directly into Raider’s body. He whined quietly, but didn’t move otherwise, and when you cracked your eye open, he was watching you, nose resting on his paws. “You keeping me company, buddy?” 

Smiling, you reached out, using one hand to scratch between his ears. 

The dog had taken to you almost immediately. When it had become common for you to spend the night at Daniel’s, he often chose to sleep on your side of the bed. Sometimes it was near the foot of it, just beyond the reach of your legs. Other nights, he squeezed in between your body and the mattress’ edge, forcing you backwards and even closer to Daniel. 

You didn’t mind. He was more than happy to have you close, no matter how much he grumbled about the dog choosing you over him. “But you can’t help it, right?” He lowered his head, his entire body relaxing. “You’re just really smart.” 

“You can take him home with you whenever you want.” Looking over toward the bathroom door, you saw that Daniel was leaning against the doorframe, a dark green towel wrapped around his waist. Even with your headache, you grinned at the sight of his bare torso, eyeing the droplets of water as they ran out of his hair and down the side of his neck. “Since you’ve pretty much already stolen him away from me.” 

“Are you jealous?” Propping yourself up on one elbow, you continued to pet the dog. “Because if you are, you need to remember that you’re the one that encouraged me to make him like me by any means necessary the first time I came over.” Daniel rolled his eyes, running one hand through his hair and slicking it back and away from his face before he moved closer to you. 

“I never said it wasn’t my own damn fault.” He sat down on the mattress, reaching out to pet the dog, too. “Why are you back in bed?” 

“I have a headache.” You shrugged, closing your eyes briefly. “Just wanted to lay down for a couple minutes.” 

“We don’t have to go.” He scooted closer, his hand moving from Raider’s side to your arm, one thumb - still warm from the shower - rubbing along your bicep. “We can stay home today.” You would have loved to do that - changing back into sweatpants and a hoodie and spending the rest of the day curled up on Daniel’s couch under a blanket. “We -”

“No.” Turning your head toward the pillow, you groaned and then peeked up at him. “We have to go. Will and Kyra are really excited, and they already figured the head count into the food and table reservations, so…” You sighed, forcing a smile. “We’ll go.” 

It was more than that, though. You knew how much Daniel looked forward to Super Bowl Sunday every year. It was more than just a game to him; watching was tradition, and even though you would have gladly watched from the comfort of his place with just the two of you, being around others during the game added to the atmosphere. 

“You’re thinking about it.” He leaned in, kissing a slow path over your cheek until he reached your mouth. “We can order pizza. Or wings. That place we got them from last year has another deal. Something about a pallet of ranch?” 

“There are only two of us. That’s entirely too much ranch.” You spoke against his lips, fighting back a smile. “I’ll be fine, Daniel. Just don’t get too mad at me if I’m not as … talkative as I was last year.” He backed away slightly, laying his head against the pillow, but keeping his eyes on you.

“A whole year.” His hand slid up your arm and over your shoulder. “Maybe I should be glad you’re not feeling well. Last time you were friendly at a Super Bowl party, you ended up picking up a stranger. And there’s going to be a ton more of those at the bar today, so -”

“If I remember correctly, I didn’t pick a stranger up at the party.” Wrinkling your nose, you grinned. “I did that in the beer cooler.” 

Daniel’s laugh filled the room, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed them. “You did. I was kicking myself for not getting your name before we said goodbye. Thought about you the whole drive to Charlie’s.” 

“You’ve said that. And you also told me you contemplated switching all of your grocery shopping to that store. ” His lips twitched, the man’s smile small but still visible at your words. “I’ll be fine.” Pushing yourself upright, you cocked your head to the side. “I have to be for tomorrow, right?” 

“You do.” He grinned at that, nodding. “I have everything planned … and none of it has to do with football or sports or chicken, or -” 

Leaning in, you cut his words off with a quick kiss, Daniel’s lips soft against yours. He reacted before you could pull away, one of his hands curving around the back of your head to keep you close. But he didn’t deepen the kiss, just prolonged it until he hummed and backed off. “What?”

“I like it when you do that.” He stroked one finger over your cheek, eyes bright. “And I think I always will.” I know you do. “How long do you need to get ready?”

 “My head feels better.” You took a deep breath. “Twenty minutes. Maybe less. And if we leave then, we’ll get there early enough that we aren’t fighting through a crowd to get to our tables.” 

He grinned again, nodding. Daniel moved then, easing away from you and standing, one hand going to his waist to keep the towel in place. “Sounds good.” He turned away from the bed and you kept your eyes on him, focused on the flex of his back muscles. Hmm. 

“You can let go of that towel, Daniel. I wouldn’t mind.” He laughed, the sound covered partially by the creak of the closet door hinges… but moments later the towel fell away, exposing the entire back of his body to you. Perfect. “Much better.” He paused before stepping into the space, looking back at you from over one shoulder. 

“Exactly how many of the twenty minutes that you need are going to be spent staring at my ass?” 

Covering your face with both hands you laughed hard, thankful that it didn’t bring the headache back full force. “None, you jerk.” Groaning, you pushed the blanket off and got out of the bed, too. “I’ll just do it tonight when we get home.” 

“We don’t have to get up early tomorrow,” he continued to speak as he entered the closet, disappearing from view. “So you’ll have as much time as you need.” Good. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. Because I’m going to need a while. 

— 

But almost two hours later, you were beginning to doubt that you’d be staring at anything later that night that wasn’t the inside of your eyelids. 

The headache hadn’t been bad for the first hour or so, and had even almost completely disappeared once you’d started eating. You’d made conversation with the people you knew - Kyra showing you pictures of their kitchen remodel, two of Daniel’s colleagues stopping by the table you stood at to ask how you’d been since it had been a few weeks since you’d seen each other at one of your trivia nights. 

You’d attempted to have a drink, but after only a few sips, pushed the glass away and switched to water. That helped, and by the time the actual game started, you were feeling more like yourself and flitting between the four tables that had been reserved, going between conversations and paying attention to the oversized TV screens in the bar. 

It was much different than it had been the previous year when it came to how close you and Daniel stayed throughout the night. He checked in with you; one hand pressed against your lower back as he kissed you on the temple, asking if you were ok, a raised eyebrow from across the table during a conversation, his expression only settling once you nodded and gave him a wink. But you weren’t constantly next to or speaking to each other, and despite the dull pain behind your eyes, you understood that that was a good thing - your relationship strong enough that neither of you felt threatened or possessive, even in a bar filled with people letting loose and having a good time. No, we know each other better than that. 

Finishing your water, you reached for the pitcher to refill your glass and frowned when you realized it was empty. Before you could head to the bar for a refill, though, a tall plastic cup appeared in front of you at the same time someone’s body pressed against yours from behind, one arm curling around your waist. “Ginger ale. Thought it might help a little.” 

You sagged against him almost immediately, both eyes closed. “Thank you.” Turning your head to kiss Daniel’s bearded cheek, you hummed and then moved your mouth closer to his ear. “Needed it. The bubbles - “

“The bubbles help. I know.” He pressed his palm against your stomach, nodding before he lowered his head and kissed the top of your shoulder. “You still good?”

“I’m alright.” Turning to look at him, you raised the cup and took a long drink. “Headache’s starting to come back, but it’s not terrible yet, and -”

“We can leave.” He chewed on his lower lip, eyes focused on your face. “We made an appearance, we can go. It’s not -” His attention was diverted as you heard a cheer, both of you looking up at the closest TV, where San Francisco’s kicker had just scored the first points of the game. “Shit.” 

Despite your headache, you snorted, holding back a laugh. “No. If I need to leave, I can take an Uber home. It’s only like fifteen minutes away, and everyone’s already at their parties, so it’ll be cheap.” He looked like he wanted to say something but you didn’t let him, lifting one hand and pressing a finger against his lips. “I’m OK. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.” 

“If you say so.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Need anything?” You thought for a few seconds and then nodded, wrinkling your nose. 

“Yeah. Will you get a new jersey next year? There are other players on the team, you know.” He looked offended for a few seconds and then sighed, placing both hands on your hips as you pressed a palm to the center of his chest. “Number 84 is pretty c-”

“As long as you don’t want to see me in a Kelce jersey, I’m… wait.” He narrowed his eyes, leaning in. “Watson? You -”

“We can talk about it later.” Smiling too, you closed your eyes and tilted your head, waiting for his kiss. It came - slow and soft, Daniel’s lips lingering against yours for long moments. He backed away, though he didn’t stop touching you. “But no, the last thing I’d want to see you in is that jersey, especially since -”

“I know.” He winked at you, both hands dropping. “I’m just being an asshole.” Curling your fingers briefly against the material of his jersey, you then pushed him away, turning back to reach for your cup. 

You weren’t surprised that he’d been thoughtful enough to get you something else to drink, but you were very thankful, the carbonated liquid a nice change from the water. There was just over ten minutes left in the second quarter, and even though you felt alright, you knew that you weren’t going to make it the entire game at the bar. And the later it gets, the less he’s going to want to leave. 

Taking another sip, you scanned the crowd, looking for Kyra until you found her, standing next to two women you only knew by sight. I’ll start my exit now, so when I end up leaving, it won’t be sudden. Working your way over to them, you reached out to touch your friend’s shoulder, her head whipping toward where you stood. “Hey. How’s it going? Did you eat? There’s -”

“I did.” Nodding, you pointed with the hand that held the cup. “Those potato skins? Amazing.” Kyra agreed, the woman pausing before she introduced you to the two she was talking to. Though they were friendly, Audrey - one of Kyra’s neighbors - was less so, her greeting almost cold. I didn’t do anything, though. So what… weird. 

Only a few minutes later, Kyra led you away from the women and toward the exit, pulling you out onto the covered patio, where it was less crowded - and much quieter. “I’m sorry about her.” Kyra sighed. “She’s just little…” Scratching her head, she took a long swig from her beer. “She just got divorced a couple months ago and is looking to get back out and date. I told her there’d be a couple of our single friends here today, and she…” Kyra rolled her eyes. “She decided she liked one of the ones that isn’t single, and -”

“Daniel?” You laughed, narrowing your eyes. “Of course.” Your friend winced, looking around and then settling her gaze back on you. “I take it she saw him and I together and got upset?” 

“Not upset. Disappointed is more like it. And she actually walked up to him and tried to talk to him, but he just…wasn’t having it.” She shrugged. “You got a good one. He was polite, but very quick to shut her down.” I know I did. It didn’t surprise you that he hadn’t entertained the woman’s flirting, but hearing your friend’s confirmation made you much more certain of your relationship’s foundation. “You don’t seem like you’re having fun, though. Is everything OK?”

“I’m not feeling well.” You decided to be blunt, sipping from your cup again. “I have a headache, and the noise isn’t helping. Daniel offered to stay home with me, but I know how much he wanted to come, so…” You frowned, clearing your throat. “I’m here, but I don’t know how long I’m going to make it.” 

“Do you need me to take you home?” She leaned against the wall, concern evident in her expression. “I will. I love football, but I really don’t give a shit about this matchup, so -” 

“No. It’s your party.” You finished the ginger ale, tossing the cup into the trash can beside you. “Stay. I’ll call an Uber, that way no one has to leave.” She opened her mouth to speak, but you continued. “Just because I feel like shit, I don’t want to ruin everyone else’s day.” 

There was more cheering, and when you peeked at one of the TVs, you saw that San Francisco had scored again, widening their lead. Oh, he’s going to be so sad. “Will’s probably going nuts.” She rolled her eyes. “I should go in and check on him. He put money on the Chiefs, and -”

“Go.” You smiled, waving her off. “I’ll be back in in a minute. I’m going to check rides.” 

She left you and headed back in, and as soon as she was gone, you pulled your phone out, navigating to the rideshare app. The fare was slightly more than you expected but still reasonable, and even though you knew it would have upset him, you considered ordering a car before going in to say goodbye. No. I can’t do that. 

So instead, you headed back in, easing through the crowd and saying hello to a few people while you sought out Daniel. It took you a minute to find him among the sea of men in red jerseys, but when you did catch sight of your boyfriend, you beelined it to him. If I go soon, I can be home before the halftime show and watch it wrapped up in a blanket and - 

“C’mere.” He took your hand before you could say anything, pulling you against his side. “You disappeared. I -”

“I went outside to talk to Ky.” Looking over at him, you took a breath. “I was explaining to her why I’m leaving. I just checked, and the rides -”

He moved before you finished, urging you toward the bar’s exit, but he stayed quiet until you were outside on the sidewalk. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” You held up a hand. “And you don’t have to come with me. Rides are cheap right now, so you can stay here and finish watching the game.” You paused, arching a brow. “If things stay the same as they are now, you’ll need other Chiefs fans around for some moral support.” He mouthed the word ouch, wrinkling his nose. 

“Right to it, hm?” He scratched the side of his head, the strands of his hair slipping through his fingers. “That’s cold. Kick a man when his team is down.” 

“I’m just going home so I can gloat in peace.” You laughed, the sound turning into a hiss and a wince as pain spiked against one temple again. Ow. “I -”

“I’m coming with you.” He stepped closer, reaching out to wrap his fingers around your arm. “No way I’m going to stay here and have a good time if -”

“No, Daniel.” Despite what you knew about Kyra’s friend’s interest, you wanted Daniel to stay at the party. “The whole point is that you wanted to watch the game with -”

“I want to watch it with you.” He frowned, saying your name. “Here or at home, it doesn’t matter. And I’ve read too many horror stories about people in rideshares that get taken advantage of. I’m not going to let you get into one and -” 

“I’m going to feel like an asshole if you leave.” You were defeated, annoyance and anger vying with gratitude for your dominant emotional response. “It’s one day a -”

“You’re sick. It’s not like you want to go.” He pointed back at the bar, understanding etched across his features. “I’ll go inside and get our coats. Here.” He stuffed a hand into his pocket. “Take the keys and go sit. I’ll be right back.” You opened your mouth to argue, holding up a hand, but Daniel shook his head quickly, looping the carabiner on his keys over two of your fingers. “Don’t argue with me. You know I’ll win.” 

“OK.” You didn’t want to fight; you just wanted to sit down. “Tell them -”

“We’ll tell them later. You already told Ky. It’s fine.” Leaning in, he kissed your cheek. “Two minutes.” 

He disappeared back into the bar and you sighed and turned toward the parking lot. It was a short walk to the car, and when you sat down a few moments later, you sunk into the plush seat, groaning. 

If Daniel were anyone else, you knew that you’d probably have to hear about how upset he was to have left the game before it was over once you were feeling better. But he’s not like that. You were thankful for him - thankful for the fact that even though Daniel had has interests, and was very vocal about doing the things he enjoyed doing, he never held grudges as revenge or brought things from the past up during the very few arguments that you’d had. It was different than in previous relationships, and you knew that you’d lucked out finding him. 

The car door opened and so did your eyes, Daniel peeking his head in before sitting. “It’s me. You ok?”

“Yes.” Giving him a small smile, you straightened up. “Everything alr-”

“It is.” Daniel sat and pressed the ignition button, buckling his seatbelt, too. “Let’s get you home.”

— 

You were settled on the couch before the halftime report ended, a blanket tucked around your shoulders. When Daniel reentered the room carrying two bottles of water and a handful of ibuprofen, you managed a large - and genuine smile. “I could have gotten that myself.” 

“You were already sitting.” He shrugged, handing one of the bottles and the pills to you. “And I didn’t want you to miss the start of the performance. You’ve been talking about this for a week, and -”

“Listen.” Swallowing the medicine, you followed it with a long drag of water as Daniel sat next to you, propping both feet up on his coffee table. “You don’t get it. You weren’t a teenage girl when he got huge and  My Way and U Remind Me came out. And have you seen him dance?”

“I have.” He wound an arm around your shoulders and urged you closer, so that you could rest your head on his shoulder. “But have you seen me dance?” 

“Once or twice.” Looking up, you watched Daniel’s smile grow, his hand sweeping slowly over your blanket-covered shoulder. “But only when you’ve been drinking.” He laughed quietly, tightening his hold on you and mumbling that’s not true, but before you could reply, the TV switched back to the field, the lights dimmed. 

Despite your headache you hummed along with the music throughout the performance, one of your hands moving from under the blanket to rest on Daniel’s thigh, that thumb arcing over the soft denim to the beat. 

He sang along quietly during a few parts, catching you off guard, but you didn’t look away from the TV - until Daniel finally spoke up. “He’s really sweaty. Do you think that that bedazzled outfit is weighing him -”

“Be quiet, he’s taking his shirt off.” Leaning forward, you bit your lip. “I-”

“Wow, that headache seems to be much better now.” He sniffed. “I see how it is.”

“Shhh. I’m watching.” He laughed and then you felt his hand on your back, slowly working its way up and then back down. As Usher disappeared from the stage, you looked over at Daniel again. “Most exciting part of this game so far.” 

“There’s still a whole half left.” He arched a brow. “Plenty of time left for more exciting things to happen.” He looked away, focusing back on the TV, but you stared at him, heart pounding. He’d willingly left the party on his favorite day of the year just because you weren’t feeling well. He’d pulled himself away from friends and unlimited food to spend the remainder of the game alone with you in his quiet, dark living room. 

“Daniel, thank you for -” 

“Is he on fucking roller skates?” Daniel leaned forward, blinking quickly. “When the fuck -”

You finally looked away and back at the screen, bursting out into laughter and rubbing at your forehead with one hand. “I don’t know but this is impressive. Is there anything he can’t do?”

“Yeah, apparently he hasn’t eaten a goddamn carb in like four years…” Daniel trailed off, still watching. “It’s unfair, right? That one person’s that good at so many things, and -”

“Valentine’s Day is in a couple days. I could buy you some skates. You can learn, too.” You smiled as his head swiveled toward you, a scowl on his face. 

“My shoe size is 11, thanks.” He only managed to keep his expression flat for a few seconds and then both of you laughed together, Daniel pulling you back against his side as the song switched again. “This playlist is like all of the college nights out at the bar of my nightmares coming back to haunt me.” 

“Those were dark times.” He released you and you used the opportunity to re-wrap the blanket around your shoulders. “Do you remember Party Rock Anthem? That was a little later, but …”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed and shuddered. “I’m so glad we only hang out in bars where the volume is kept at a reasonable level now.” You snorted, scooting back next to him, and his arm went back across your shoulders as the performance came to an end. “What year did this even come out?” He did a quick search, scoffing as he read the screen of his phone. “Twenty years ago. Can you believe -.” 

“So…. An AARP membership and roller skates for Valentine’s Day. Got it.” He was quiet as the TV switched back to commercials, but then Daniel said your name again, waiting until you were looking at him to continue. 

“You’re welcome. You don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome. It’s just a game. I can watch it anywhere.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to the center of your forehead. “As long as it’s with you.”

The two of you had gotten close in the year you’d known each other. Though things hadn’t been official that entire time, once you’d made that distinction, the relationship progressed quickly. Neither of you had said those words yet, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t feel them. And you thought that he did, too, even if he didn’t speak them out loud. You were together more often than you were apart when you weren’t working, and he made you feel comfortable and cared for in a way that still stunned you. This is proof of that. 

“Sap.” You sighed, pulling back and standing. “I’m going to get something to snack on, do you want anything?” 

He didn’t. So you headed into the kitchen and decided on a bowl of popcorn, leaning against the counter while it popped. Your head felt better but still not great, though the fact that there was no excess noise had helped a ton. I knew it would. 

You dressed the popcorn with butter, salt and the seasoning that you knew was Daniel’s favorite, and then headed back into the other room. He’d moved to the corner of the couch, slinging the blanket over his shoulders and leaving the end of it loose and ready for you. “Hold this.” He took the bowl and you sat, getting comfortable, pressed against his side. 

It was cozy, and for the next little while, the two of you watched the game in silence, the amount of popcorn in the bowl dwindling thanks to both of your appetites. You wondered if Kansas City was ever going to score, and when they finally did, Daniel cheered happily - stiffening behind you and tightening his arm around your shoulders. “It’s only a field goal, don’t get too excited, Harper.” 

“I’ll take what I can get.” He kissed  the top of your head and you closed your eyes, settling in further against him. His breathing - deep and even - calmed you. You dozed until his team scored again, Daniel’s excited yelp waking you fully. “There’s the lead, baby!” You groaned, the sound turning into a yawn, but opened your eyes and looked at the screen, watching the celebration. 

“Still a quarter to go,” you mumbled. “Don’t get cocky.” 

“No, that’s later.” He laughed. “That was horrible, I’m sorry.” You agreed, but didn’t say anything, instead turning your head inward and toward his chest, groaning a second time. “The one thing I didn’t plan out for tomorrow is breakfast. Did you want to go out somewhere, or eat here, or …”

“I can cook for you.” Sitting up, you made direct eye contact. “Breakfast in bed?” 

“But then you’d have to get up early.” Daniel’s frown grew, the lines between his eyes deepening. “And we’re supposed to sleep in since we took the day off.” 

“I didn’t say early.” Winking, you shrugged. “Whenever your dog wakes me up to let him out, I can start.” He agreed - hesitantly - and then you both went back to the game, the 4th quarter clock already ticking down. 

And it was you that cheered next when San Francisco scored, clapping your hands together and nodding, even as Daniel swore under his breath from next to you. “Are we ever going to root for the same team? Or is this going to be a yearly thing to us to be on opposing sides? Because -”

“I don’t know, Daniel. Are the Chiefs ever not going to get in?” Shifting so that you could get more comfortable, you gestured toward the TV. “If the Ravens had won, you’d be rooting for the Niners with me, since they beat your team.” 

“True.” He took your hand, squeezing. “But luckily they didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, twisting your wrist so that you could link your fingers together 

“We’ll just have to wait and see what happens next season.” You squeezed back, searching his expression. “See if we can go three years in a row on choosing opposing teams and not coming out of the game mad at each other.”

“I’m sure we’ll be alright.” He tilted his head. “But does that mean that you think my Chiefs will be back in the -” I guess it does. 

“You never know.” Gesturing at the TV again, you made a show of rolling your eyes. “They’ve been throwing around the term dynasty and comparing him to Brady for the last three hours, so…” Daniel’s laugh was quiet, but when he pulled you closer by your joined hands, you let him, leaning into his side again. 

“He is really good. And Kelce is -”

“If I never hear that man’s name again in my life, it will be too soon.” Daniel laughed again at your words, both of you going quiet as the field goal unit came out onto the field - and tied the game. “Ok, this is interesting.” 

Despite the lingering headache, you were interested in the outcome - and especially with so little time left and a tied score. “Holy shit. I didn’t actually think…” Daniel swore quietly, reaching for his phone and sending a message out. “Charlie’s got to be shitting himself right now.” 

You wondered how your friends were doing, and if the bar was still packed, and on a whim, you said Daniel’s name, getting his attention. “Take a picture of us, I want to send it to Ky.” He did, lifting the phone and reversing the camera so that you could see yourselves on the screen. 

It was a good picture, both of you looking cozy under the blanket. When he sent it to you a few seconds later, you quickly typed a message to go along with it before you send it to your friend, hoping it would make her laugh whenever she saw it. 

One of us is really excited about this tied game. The other is just glad to be in sweatpants. 

He laughed at the text, but you felt him deflate when San Francisco kicked yet another field goal to take the lead with a little under two minutes left. They might actually win. I know I shouldn’t get excited, but … 

The clock continued to wind down, and when - with 3 seconds left - Kansas City kicked an answering field goal to tie it again, you stood, throwing your arms up in the air. “Bullshit. This game has been entirely too boring to go into overtime.” 

“I agree, but since this is the last football we get until August, I’m not going to complain.” He had a point, but you stayed on your feet, standing just in front of the couch. “Oh, shit, you know what?” Daniel reached out, fingers grazing over the back of your hand. “We forgot the envelopes.” 

You gasped and spun to face him, looking down at where he still sat. “We did.” Pausing, you pointed at the steps. “I can go get-”

“No, you stay here.” Standing, he pushed past you, heading in the direction of his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.” You watched until he disappeared, listening to the sound of his footsteps thudding up the carpeted steps. 

Both of you had decided not to gamble on the game with actual cash that year, and instead keep the wager between the two of you. If the Chiefs won, Daniel got to open the envelope you’d sealed your wager into, and if the Niners won, you opened his. 

The only stipulation you’d agreed to was that the “reward” couldn’t be anything sexual in nature. Despite the fact that both of you knew what each other’s limits were, you’d decided that a sealed bet wasn’t the best place to offer anything that could be interpreted as an obligation to accept. Even though that could have been fun. 

He reappeared a few moments later, the envelopes in one hand and Raider trailing down the stairs after him. “He was sleeping on your side of the bed again.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I think he was disappointed it was me coming up and not you.” 

“Doubtful.” But he padded toward you, nudging the side of your leg with his nose, tail wagging back and forth. “Maybe.” Daniel mumbled something that you didn’t catch before setting the envelopes on the table and wrapping his arms around you. “Daniel, w-” 

He didn’t speak as he urged you to sit back on the couch with him, both of you landing on the cushions at the same time. Raider watched for a few seconds and then walked away, turning around twice and then flopping down onto the bed in the corner of the room, facing toward where you sat. 

“How’s your head?” He spoke into your ear, mouth hovering just above it. “You seem like you’re doing better.” 

“I am.” You didn’t look away from the TV, daring to feel a little hope as San Francisco drove the ball down the field, eating up the remaining time. “And if they can pull this off, I’ll feel great.”

“Now who’s being cocky?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s still plenty of time. And both teams get the ball, so…” So there’s a chance. 

To your disappointment, the end result was only a field goal. Ok, they can do this. They just need to hold them off. Your heartbeat quickened as the time ticked down - and the Chiefs got closer and closer to the end zone. 

Daniel’s response was expected, too, the man sitting up straight and then leaning forward, both hands rubbing together. Splitting your attention between the TV and him, you understood what was going to happen before it played out, letting out a sigh when you saw Mahomes release the ball and focusing on Daniel instead. It was fun while it lasted. 

He shot to his feet as the catch was made, both hands raised over his head as he whooped in excitement. It startled Raider, the dog’s head lifting. But after the single outburst, he hissed and then swore, looking down at you. “I’m sorry. Your headache, I didn’t -” 

Waving him off, you stood too. “It’s fine. Congratulations to your team.” He paused and then reached for you, carefully pulling you into his arms. “I still think it was a boring game, but…”

“It was.” He kissed you, nodding. “But I’ve gotta be honest with you.” His smile widened, the man’s dark eyes focused on you. “I think I liked tonight better than last year.”

“Why?” It made no sense - he’d had a great time at Charlie’s, and from what you’d seen, Daniel’s time at the bar had been just as enjoyable for him. He likes high energy places. He likes … people. And crowds. And he likes being with people that like the same things as he does. “It’s so quiet. And the only other person here was rooting against your team, and -”

“Because I can do this without worrying someone’s going to get offended.” 

He moved quickly, one hand sliding up to the middle of your back and the other rising to tilt your face. Ah. Makes sense. He kissed you hungrily, though he was still holding back - Daniel’s lips parted when they met yours, the tip of his tongue dragging along the fullest part of your lower one moments later. 

You welcomed the kiss, opening your mouth in encouragement - and Daniel was quick to deepen it, his hum of approval vibrating through you. You dragged your fingers through his hair, the soft strands curling against your palm. Before you could get too comfortable, he pulled away, sighing. “Kyra would have lost her shit if you did that last year.”

“I wanted to.” He nodded, his expression solemn. “Barely knew you, but it took all my willpower not to make a move in that living room or in the kitchen.” He’d told you something similar before, but it still made you feel good to know that he meant it. 

“Now you don’t have to worry about that.” Wrinkling your nose, you tugged on his hair. “Might have gotten a couple strange looks in that bar, but I wouldn’t have cared.” Using your chin, you gestured to the table. “You won the bet. Are you going to open your envelope?” 

He looked down at where they laid, pausing before turning his attention back to you. “In a minute. I think I want to kiss you again first.” And he did, though that kiss was shorter than the previous one and ended with his teeth closing around your lip followed by a gentle suck as he backed away. Oh, I love it when he does that. 

He stroked his thumb over your cheek and then bent down, picking up the envelope with his name on it. 

“A bet is a bet.” Putting your hands on your hips, you raised both brows, waiting. “Here we go.” Sliding his finger beneath the flap, he opened the envelope, using two fingers to pull the folded sheet of paper free. “Ok, let’s see… what does…” He stopped speaking, clearly confused. Weren’t expecting that, were you. Daniel looked up, frowning. “Seriously?”

“We said it had to be significant but it couldn’t be sex, so…” 

“But this is …” He looked down and then back up, chewing on his lower lip. “Three freebies? What does that even mean?”

“It means, Daniel, that you get three opportunities to make a request of me, and as long as it’s something reasonable, I can’t say no.” His lips twitched upward, and you continued. “You don’t really ask for much, but I thought … I don’t know. If we have plans and you decide you don’t want to go, or if there’s something you want to do… just ask.” You shrugged. “Blank check times three.”

“Why three?” He was smiling broadly, the slip of paper still in his hand, though he didn’t look at it. “And not only one?”

“One didn’t seem like enough, and two was a weird number. So… three.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “Is that dumb? I didn’t think so. I just -”

“No, it’s perfect.” He reached out, taking your hand. “I’ll make ‘em good ones, I promise.” You knew he would - and you also knew that Daniel would save his prize until he came up with the right choices. Just to catch me by surprise. 

“Good. I’m looking forward to finding out what they are.” Stepping away from him, you looked up and at the clock on his wall. “And I know it’s early, but I think I’m going to go and lay down. I want to get some sleep.”

“I’ll let Raider out and then be up, too.” He whistled, and the dog stood, hurrying toward the back door. “See you in a few.” 

You headed upstairs and into the bathroom, getting ready for bed on autopilot. It only took you a few minutes, and by the time Daniel made it up to the bedroom, you were already laying down with the lights off. God, it feels good to lay down.

He was quick getting ready to lay down, too. When he climbed in next to you, there was no hesitation before he was winding an arm around you and urging you closer. “Where’s Raider?”

“I crated him tonight. Didn’t want him jumping in the bed.” He rubbed your back, the motion soothing. “Figured you could use a night of uninterrupted sleep.” Uninterrupted from you, too? He kept touching you, the movement of his hand pushing your shirt up to expose the skin of your back. Guess not. Daniel sought it out, the warmth of his palm making contact with your bare body 

You moved even closer, letting yourself relax under his touch. “Hey.” You spoke a few minutes later, voice quiet in the darkened room. “Isn’t sex supposed to be good for headaches?” He stopped moving, fingers curling inward.

“I…” His hand started moving again, slowly. “I might have read that somewhere.” You reached out to touch him then, your fingers catching on the elastic waistband of his pants. “Are you suggesting we test that theory?”

It only took you a few seconds to decide, hooking your fingers between the material and his skin and then tugging. Daniel’s hips jerked forward at the contact, your name little more than a whisper as he spoke it. “Yeah. I am.” 

— 

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera Ch 5 - Lesson

(Prologue, Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4)

Have I finally got them out of the cave?

Will there be drama when they get to the surface?

Only one way to find out :)

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“Et tu, Brute?!”

“Then fall, Caesar” Estera muttered as a reflex. It always drove her crazy when the line was unfinished.

“Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead!”

Her head snapped up in surprise to see him grinning. Well! She hadn’t expected him to actually know it. Laughing, she gestured behind him.

“If I promise not to stab you, can I have a quick look? I am a qualified first aider, maybe I can help?”

He backed into the wall.

“Honestly, it’s fine, just a little scratch and a bruise I can get it sorted when we are out.”

“It would be a good opportunity to demonstrate some of the lessons the children have learned in class? And it would keep their minds off other things.”

Right on cue, Sam appeared at her side with an eager expression and the smaller, more portable first aid kit she’d stowed in her rucksack just in case. If only she’d brought the large one.

“Oh wow that’s a big kit… you like to be prepared huh?”

She snorted derisively and beckoned him forward. There was a pause. She raised an eyebrow and waited.

His shoulders sagged and he walked towards her with a wry smile and a whispered “I am never going to live this down.”

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Having checked there were definitely no hitherto hidden exits he could take advantage of, he reluctantly sat down where she indicated and allowed her to step behind him, hoping it she wouldn’t pass out again. The rock had clearly nicked a couple of enthusiastic vessels because the sticky sensation had crept all the way down to the small of his back and it probably looked way more dramatic than it was. He plastered on a reassuring smile for the kids but none were looking at him because they were all crowded around a large bottle of hand sanitiser. Wait, what? Little Alex had a gleam in his eye as he scrubbed up to the elbows like a surgeon preparing for a transplant.

The smile became a little fixed. He wasn’t sure he had consented to a team approach.

The teacher was explaining something and had their rapt attention. He let himself be carried along by her voice too, it had a musical quality to it that was soothing. Lucky that, for someone who worked with little kids. He drifted a little then jumped as her face appeared over his left shoulder and he suddenly realised she’d been talking directly to him.

“Can I cut your suit? It’s got a little mangled.”

“No.”

“Oh. It’s already quite damaged I’m afraid…”

He shook himself.

“Sorry, I mean you won’t be able to… Here, use this.” He palmed the micro laser cutter from his baldric. “Um… maybe don’t give that to the kids.”

He winced as he felt the air on his back. Fortunately it was only the one pair of hands that proceeded to clean the wound, the small ones had paired off and were enthusiastically swabbing each other instead. Her hands were cooler than Virgil’s, but had a similar level of confidence… He forced himself to relax.

Suddenly, the eager mini-medics all crowded round, watching intently. Then retreated like a wave and started covering each other in steri strips.

“Right, should we use warm or cold for bruising, everyone?”

“COOOOOOLD” came the unanimous reply.

She reappeared over his shoulder, accompanied by the cracking of instant cold packs. “I’m going pop a couple of these over your ribs then tape your suit up to hold them in place. I think it would be best to put your arm in a sling to reduce the chance of you pulling the shoulder wound open again.”

For the sake of being a good example to the children he agreed. That was the only reason. Nothing to do with the power of the teacher voice. He sighed… “Yes, Miss”.

A little hand slipped into his and he looked down at Alex who was looking back at him earnestly.

“It’s ok for rescuers to need rescuing sometimes isn’t it, Mr Scott?”

He was saved from finding an appropriate response by his brother breaking through the wall.

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There had been a LOT of hugging and relieved tears. The rescuer who introduced himself as Virgil had finally gathered the parents to give them some quick advice on symptoms of dust inhalation and when they should seek assistance. Meanwhile the blue-eyed one, Scott that was it, was left-handedly signing the kids’ tattered worksheets and distributing tiny die-cast thunderbird models to many squeals of delight. She chuckled to herself as Alex excitedly snatched a model of the red rocket ship before reconsidering and replacing it with the silver and blue one, gazing adoringly at his new favourite-person-in-the-whole-world.

With any luck, much of the trauma of the situation the children had experienced would be overshadowed by the wonder of meeting their heroes. As she watched the injured man pulling funny faces and offering high fives she realised that was entirely deliberate on their part.

She really should find out more about them. The kids, apparently, had encyclopaedic knowledge and it would be best if she could keep up with what was going to be the primary topic of conversation for the foreseeable. They might not forgive her ignorance as quickly as with the plesiosaurs.

It wasn’t that she had deliberately ignored the Thunderbirds’ existence, hard to do that when they were all over the press (and she had to keep confiscating the trading cards until the end of the school day). Scott certainly seemed a bit familiar so she must have seen a press conference or something at some stage. But, well, she’d generally tried to shield herself a little from constant news of disaster and destruction that she could do little to fix. She threw herself into small scale things. She tried not to get overwhelmed by a world determined to drown her in that same sense of helplessness she’d battled against as her country collapsed around her, as she’d stared into the horrified eyes of a soul who knew he was about to die...

Ahhhh, she shook herself, that was the third time today he’d slipped through her defences. She really had to practice her exercises more. Screwing up her face then relaxing it into a pleasant smile she began to approach the group of parents who were beginning to disperse after their medical debriefing.

And got hijacked by two EMTs keen to ask her about her fainting fit in the cave. One of the children must have tattled on her.

She smiled politely, assured them confidently that she had no head injury but suffered from mild claustrophobia and that plus the shock of everything was probably all it was. Feeling it would be hypocritical to refuse, she allowed them to check her vitals and make some notes while she finally looked up and took in the bizarre scene around her. Her eyes drifted past the gleaming silver rocket towards the huge green cargo ship she’d heard so much about. Plenty of room for pockets indeed… she stifled a laugh and her gaze settled on the two international rescue operatives sat on the side of the ramp leading into the ship. The second man had seemed nice, if somewhat harried and oddly concerned about his colleague.

Beyond the temporary floodlights the sun was beginning to set, the sky was clear and the early stars were visible. She was struck by how close she had come to not seeing them again and felt a wave of gratitude for the second chance.

Third, actually.

She looked up the stars and wished she could have thanked the person who’d given her the second.

And then gasped, she had nearly done it again! They were about to leave and she hadn’t actually managed to find the time to express her thanks. She extricated herself from the attentions of the EMTs and hurried over to the two men in blue, running through a few potential phrases in her mind. They’d probably heard it all before.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you again”

Scott half looked up from where he was perched on a boulder and smiled distractedly while his colleague fussed over him with a medi-scanner. Without his helmet on he looked older than she was expecting, maybe early 40s, a hint of grey shot through the chestnut at his temples and the shadows under his eyes and cheekbones made her wonder just how many “long days” the guy had experienced recently. There was a deep sense of tiredness about him.

“I didn’t want to let you go without properly thanking you for all your help down there” she unthinkingly stuck out her right hand, realising too slowly that he wasn’t going to be able to take it.

Before she could withdraw it he’d reached out with his left hand, twisted his wrist to grasp her right and shook it awkwardly.

“Well thank you for patching me up, you left this little guy with not a lot to do.”

There was a huff behind him prompting another grin which this time reached his eyes as he looked up at her. Blue… vivid, unmistakable blue, sparkled with amusement and a spike of adrenaline hit her like a train.

It was him.

He was still holding her hand but hers was numb and she couldn’t feel it. The ground she was standing on tilted suddenly and she tried to hold on tighter to steady herself but her muscles wouldn’t respond

And she was going to fall.

And she heard him scream.

But he was still smiling and hadn’t noticed the world was collapsing. His eyes held a question.

“Thank you for rescuing me” her voice cracked

“Again.”

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“Virgil, please, it’s alright. Look it’s just a bit of bruising and a few cuts which you’ll note are already expertly dressed.”

His brother scowled at the scanner which, for once, was backing up Scott’s assertion that he was fine.

Virgil’s litany of grumbling was interrupted by the reappearance of the teacher.

She was younger than he’d thought, probably early 30s, and he was amused to see that amongst the dusty strands of dark brown hair that had fallen from the practical knot at the back of her neck was a lock of bright blue. A little rebellious streak perhaps?

He gave her a tiny wink along with the backwards handshake and wondered how hard Virgil would kick him if he asked for her number.

The blood drained from her face as their eyes met. Huh, not the usual reaction to his attempts to flirt, he noted wryly, maybe he was losing his touch.

Wait, what did she mean “Again”? He frowned in confusion. When had they…?

The sense of unease rushed back into his bones and brought all of its howling friends.

The smell of rust, the taste of blood, a decade of phantoms.

Without conscious thought he was on his feet and had dragged his arm from the sling to grab her by the shoulders as he studied her face… it couldn’t be…

She visibly flinched but lifted her chin to hold his gaze.

Realising his mistake he hurriedly released her and tried to find words, any words… but none would come. His lips moved soundlessly as he stared. It couldn’t be, could it?

“Miss Hermaszewska, mummy says have you got my inhaler?”

She blinked and turned to follow the child who tugged at her sleeve.

Virgil had him by the good arm and was leading him back towards the ships, his concerned voice rumbling questions Scott couldn’t focus on right now. He tried to follow her and his brother’s grip tightened, restraining him. Fury and panic raged through his veins. He snarled and shook the unrelenting hands off violently, spinning to face the aggressor before the shocked face of his brother snapped him back to the present and his heart plummeted.

He ran for his ship and One was in the air before the seat had fully retracted.

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Chapter 6…

[cariantha]

Daddy Distress

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Fluff Word count: 1.3K Prompt: Based on this ask from @socalwriterbee. What would Ethan's reaction be to his son calling him by his name, instead of Daddy? Also for @choicesjunechallenge, I used the prompt: Father’s Day

As Ethan entered the penthouse, he could hear their happy voices. He dropped his laptop bag on the floor and called out to his family. 

“Hey guys, I’m home!”  

"Hi, babe!"

It was a familiar greeting he heard almost every day but not one he expected from his three-year-old son.

Sawyer broke out into uncontrollable laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ethan couldn’t help but crack a smile, too.

“What?!” Bending down, he swooped his son into his arms and asked, “Babe? Why are you calling me babe?”

"Dat your name."

"Noooo, my name is Ethan."

"E-tan?"

"Yes."

A couple of hours later, it was time to put their toddler to bed.

"Time for bed, sweetie. Go get your cuddles from Daddy and say nightnight. I'll go get your sippy cup."

Returning to the living room, Sawyer’s heart melted at the sight before her. Lying peacefully on her husband’s chest, their son nuzzled his chestnut waves into the crook of his father’s neck. Ethan’s large hand gently scratched the little one’s back while a much smaller hand absent-mindedly rubbed the grown man’s stubbled cheek.

As Sawyer came near, Ethan stood to pass him into his mother’s arms.

"Goodnight, buddy. I love you."

"Night, E-tan."

Sawyer giggled, and Ethan rolled his eyes.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

It was funny at first that his mini-me addressed him by his first name. But after a couple of days, it was no longer amusing. Sawyer sensed the frustration when Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose as they exited their son’s room. 

"What's the matter?"

"I just miss being called ‘Dad.' He's growing up so fast, but he's still my baby boy, Sawyer. And… and it just reminds me of my situation growing up. I started referring to Louise by her first name when I decided she was no longer worthy of the title ‘Mother.’ I… I don’t want that ever to be the case with my child.”

Sawyer wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. "It won’t be because you are an amazing dad. And I'm sorry, babe. I thought it was kind of cute and figured it was just a phase. I didn't realize it bothered you this much, but I get it.”

“Thank you.”

“I'm home with him tomorrow. I'll try to talk to him and help him understand," she offered.

Peering through the open door, Ethan nodded, his bear cub already fast asleep.

Sliding a hand under his T-shirt and up his chest, she said, "Come on, Daddy. Take your other baby to bed," Sawyer winked.

😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

“Are you ready to make a present for Daddy's special day tomorrow?” Sawyer asked, spreading out the craft supplies.

"I want to draw picture."

"He'll love that," she said, passing the paper and crayons. "Hey, I have a question. Do you know why I call you 'sweetie' sometimes?"

He shook his head.

"It's because I think you are soooo cute, and I love you soooo much," she leaned over and squished a big kiss to his baby-soft cheek.

"I lub you, Mama."

"Aw, thank you,” she held her hand to her heart. “Do you know why I call Daddy 'babe' sometimes? It's because I think he's cute too, and I love him a lot. Like this much..." She spread her arms open wide.

"I lub him too! Dis big," he mimicked his mom with outstretched arms.

"Did you know that when you call him ‘Daddy,’ he feels all that love?"

"Uh-huh. Mama? When E-tan come home and play with me?"

Sawyer chuckled in defeat. She tried and will have to try again later.

😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

Shortly before bedtime, Sawyer received a text from Ethan. A pileup on the freeway meant all hands on deck in the E.R. and that Daddy would be tied up at work for several more hours. The chaos in the E.R. is a walk in the park compared to the bedlam Sawyer was about to experience putting her daddy’s boy to bed.

"Cuddle with Daddy!" he cried. "No! I want Daddy!"

"I know, sweetie. Daddy got stuck at work helping people with boo-boos.” Finally, caving, “Do you want to sleep with me until Daddy gets home?"

He nodded his head affirmatively, instantly calming down. 

Sawyer kissed each cheek as she tucked her son into the middle of the king-size bed. "I promise you can cuddle with Daddy when you wake up in the morning. It's his special day, remember?” With a conspiring tone, Sawyer shared the plan for the next day. “We'll sneak attack Daddy with kisses, and then you can surprise him with your picture, okay?"

It was after midnight when Ethan finally arrived home. He peeked into his son's room, which was empty, so he continued on to the master bedroom, where he found a picture-worthy scene. Sawyer was asleep on her back. A small human clung to her tightly, as if its life depended on it, with one arm around her neck and a leg draped across her stomach.

After a quick shower, Ethan changed into his pajamas. He gently extricated his son out of bed and into his arms, trying not to wake him or his mother.

"Hi," Sawyer spoke softly, stirred awake from the movement. "I was going to put him back in his own bed once he fell asleep, but I must have dozed off.”

"It’s okay. I'll take him," Ethan said, holding the slumbering babe against his shoulder. "I need my cuddles."

“He was really missing you tonight."

😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴😴

The next morning, Sawyer woke early to make coffee and start breakfast. Hearing the wrestling of sheets through the baby monitor, she went to coordinate with her co-conspirator.

"Gooood morrrrrning," Sawyer sang quietly as she knelt at the side of the Goldilocks-sized bed. As she tamed his bedhead, "What do you think? Is it time to attack the Tickle Monster?"

"Yes!" 

Sawyer led them down the hall. Holding a finger to her lips, she playfully reminded him to be quiet as they tiptoed into the large bedroom. After a helpful boost onto her side of the bed, they crawled like cats to Ethan's side, ready to pounce.

"Get ready," she whispered. 

After rolling Ethan onto his back, Sawyer straddled his waist and held his hands at his sides.

"Huh," he responded groggily.

"Okay, now. It’s a slobber attack!" she declared.

The excited tot leaned over and placed wet smooches all over his dad’s face.

"Who dares to wake the Tickle Monster," a deep, hoarse voice bellowed out. Breaking free from Sawyer's hold, Ethan sat up and caged the intruder. "Looks like I have a prisoner," he said, tickling his son's ribs until high-pitched laughter filled the room.

As Ethan paused to let the captive catch his breath, Sawyer took advantage and leaned forward. Landing a quick but tender kiss on his lips, "Morning, babe. Happy Father's Day." 

Climbing off the bed, Sawyer grabbed the artwork that had been drawn the day before.

"Sweetie, do you want to give the Tickle Monster his present?"

Taking the piece of paper from his mom, the youngster handed it to Ethan and settled into his lap.

"Oh wow. What do we have here?"

A little finger pointed to each scribbled blob as an enthusiastic voice explained, "Dis is me. And dat Mama. And dis is you!"

"I love it. Thank you.” Ethan kissed the top of his head. “I love you, buddy.”

"I lub you, Daddy. Dis big," he stretched his arms out.

Ethan cradled his son into a hug and looked up at Sawyer. She was smiling ear to ear as she mouthed, "Daddy." Ethan responded with a smile of his own.

"All right, boys. I'm going to finish making Daddy's special pancake breakfast," she said as she left.

"Rookie?" Ethan called, causing her to look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

“Pancakes?” Wiggling free from his dad’s hold, their pride and joy slid down the side of the bed. "Wait for me, Ookie! I help."

Facepalming, Sawyer shook her head with a smile and then looked back at her laughing husband. “Babe, I think we officially have a Threenager.” 

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @hopelessromantic1352 @kyra75 @lsvdw-blog @rookiemartin

[readychilledwine]

The Conjuring

Summary - You knew heading into the woods with Lucien this late would be a mistake, you two just did not realize how big of one.

Warnings - mentions of blood, verbal and physical abuse/attacks, poisoning, forced shadow and trauma work

A/N - The devil works hard. A writer behind schedule works harder. Or cries. Or both. I changed this one a lot. It was originally just a very spooky haunted house that led to the reader being forever trapped there. One - hated the angsty ending Two - This idea came, and I was like, "Huh... yeah." It's a little less Lucien x reader expressed as romantically as I normally do with couple pairings, but once you read along, I think you'll all see why Lulu in reader's.... state was less important than who shows up. I tried to turn this concept into a deeper meaning, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do 💜

**italicized text indicates the reader's state of mind instead of reality**

You and Lucien stared at the ran down cabin. You both could feel something from it, but you were not sure what.

"Let's just go back, Lu." You tried taking his hand and pulling him.

"Y/n, it's a 45-minute walk, it is storming outside, and, in case you haven't noticed, you are still bleeding from the Naga attack. We need to treat it immediately."

Lucien pulled you toward the cabin, pushing the door open and pausing as the scent of dust and damp hit you both. "This place has been empty for years," you whispered. 

Lucien just nodded, searching for anything he could use to start a fire. "I have explored these woods for years now and never found this place before," the admission was filled with doubt. He paused as he removed a dusty trap, finding a stack of wood underneath it. "Odd."

You sat on the floor, blood loss finally causing lightheadedness to set in, "Lu-"

Lucien set you on the table, panicking as he checked over the stomach and leg wound. 

Tamlin moved to his side, placing a hand over your forehead. "She's burning up. What the hell happened out there?"

Lucien shook his head, pulling medical supplies out of the cabinets. "Rhysand and fucking Naga. The blight sent them. We were caught off guard."

Lucien carried you to the couch, laying you back. "You're really pretty, you know that? I don't miss that damned mask at all. It hid your cheekbones."

He shook his head, blushing slightly and ignoring the compliment despite the small smile that formed. "Poison must be setting in, my lady."

You shook your head as he put a paste on your leg. You found yourself staring towards the corner of the room, eyes locked on a shadowy figure there. You blinked quickly, hoping to clear the brain fog where it once stood and found the corner empty. 

Lucien followed your gaze. "There's nothing there, lovely. I promise."

And he was right, because she was now standing over you. 

Tamlin held your shoulders down, "Lucien," he growled out. His nose was bleeding from a well placed palm strike that had come from a screaming fit before you started thrashing. 

Feyre was now there too, holding your legs as still as she could with her human strength. 

"I do not understand. This should be working." Lucien looked at the medical paste again, smelling it. "I grabbed the right one. It should be drawing the poison out."

Her black eyes were soulless, staring into yours as she smirked over you. Long stringy black hair fell to near her hips. Her grayed skin was hallowed, as if she had been dead for years. "You will not leave this cabin alive, y/n," her hand went over your mouth, preventing you from screaming while Lucien tended to the fire he had started. "Do not bother. He will not be here much longer." Her voice was cold, eerie, and cracking, as if she had not spoken for years, for a lifetime. 

Lucien came back to you just as she disappeared. He paused, "Did you have 3 scratch marks on your cheek this whole time?" He turned your chin gently, checking over the marking. "That is not from a Naga. Do you remember when that happened?" 

"No," you liked with a shaking breath. "Are you sure we can not just go back?"

Lucien looked towards the window where the storm had increased. Lightning was striking frequently, the winds were howling, bending anything that it could in its path, and rain was pouring down as if someone had conjured the ocean into the skies. 

He turned back towards you. "I am sorry, y/n. I know you would prefer our bed." 

You just nodded, pulling your lip between your teeth. "I do not think we are alone here, Lucien."

"I know, " the heir sighed heavily. "Just ignore it, lovely." He began, healing the wound on your leg. "When I was little, my mother used to-" Lucien paused, looking towards the doorway. "Yeah. We need to leave." 

Lucien moved to help you stand, supporting you by the waist as he went to the door. He grabbed the handle and quickly ripped his hand back, hissing in pain. "We are fucking trapped," he said shaking his hand. 

You felt a hand, brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing your neck to a grip that felt like ice itself was on your skin. "Mainly just you," that dark feminine voice purred. 

Alys switched the rag on your forehead to a cooler one as she helped hold your upper body still. You were whispering to yourself, muttering in a language spoken only in the Night Court. 

Feyre had switched places with Tamlin, the High Lord now holding your legs down as Lucien used ointment after ointment hoping to stop the poison from spreading. She moved your hair with a shaking hand, tucking it behind your pointed ear. "Is there a specific poison they could have used?" 

Tamlin sighed. "The only thing I can think of, Rhysand would not have risked exposing her to. He may not be thrilled about the bond between her and Lucien, but he would not risk her."

Lucien suddenly paused. "Tam, she dealt with the Naga. I was dealing with him. He did not even know she was out there until we heard her scream."

The High lord closed his eyes, hanging his head. "Did he say anything to you? Mention anything?" 

You were on the ground, fighting something you knew was not fae, screaming for Lucien, who had disappeared into thin air. 

You tugged the bond constantly, praying for an answer as this being's cold hand and sharp nails scratched and choked you. 

You finally managed to kick her off. You scrambled to your feet, running to the kitchen area and grabbing the backdoor pounding on it as the handle disappeared before running to the hall. 

Each door you approached slammed as you neared it, shaking the beaten down shelter. 

Only one remained open. A door with a staircase leading down into further blackness into further cold. You took the chance, running down those stairs as an angry scream froze your blood. 

Feyre helped Tamlin stand. "Nice kick," he muttered angrily. "Think Lucien did he say anything to you after hearing her scream. Was there anything near her body?"

You had begun fighting again, trying to get up despite your mate holding the bond tight after each tug and whispering gently in your ear.

Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, rattling his brain for anything Rhysand may have said. "There was a bottle next to her, it had a dark brownish black liquid in it, but not even for me to even try to identify it. Rhysand did not follow me to her, an attor had shown up."

"Hemlock poison potion," Alys began looking through the room. "I do not believe we have an antidote anymore." She continued searching the cabinets.

Y/n, a familiar voice purred into your mind, come to me.

You followed it through the dark, jumping at every footstep, every scurrying rat, every creak from the wind. You could barely see, you could reach into your powers, you couldn't feel the bind anymore. 

"Y/n," the male voice called again, spoken this time, "You have to come to me. Faster, little moonbeam." You followed the echoing voice, picking up your speed as you moved, and it grew closer.

You ran into a cold body, faelights suddenly appearing. "Run, y/n. Run!" His voice was yelling for you now. No longer gentle or kind. 

But you were paralyzed there, staring into lifeless deep blue eyes flecked with starlight. 

You felt your breath hitching as you looked up at the male, the male whose throat was slit to the bone. The male whose hands were the first to cause you harm. The tall fae male grabbed your upper arms, slamming you against the wall. 

Suddenly, the dark-haired female appeared, her skin suddenly clearer, her eyes now that same shade. Realization hit you slowly. She was you. The you that this male had trained you to be. The pretty little trophy weapon he could use to kill anything in his path.

"Such a disappointment," the drawing purr said. "Selling your soul to the 7th in line. Selling your heart to a banished traitor with no station. You should be ashamed and embarrassed. "

That softer deep voice came again, "Y/n, darling, run! Find me. Run!"

You had taken off, attacking Tamlin and Lucien with those last few drops of magic before running into the dark woods.

Tamlin had shifted, also lending the power to Lucien so he could help search for you by smell. 

It was raining heavily still, the trees were creaking loudly with the wind. Tamlin paused, catching the familiar faint scent of citrus and sea that had mixed with a florally musk. Lucien caught it, too, following it instantly. 

He shifted back to his fae form, eyes locked on the ripped fabric soaked in your blood. He put it near Tamlin, and the High lord sniffed it, locking in on your scent instead of Rhysand's.

Lavender and rain, they both kept saying to themselves. Lavender and rain.

"Help me," you gripped the soft black lapels of a jacket. "Please help me."

Warm hands pulled you tight into a tattooed chest. His body was warm, despite his poor health, and you snuggled into it. "Help me." You pleaded again. 

"You know what you were exposed to. You know what you have to do before the antidote will actually work. I will be right here, little moonbeam." Rhysand tilted your face up to look at him, wiping the heavy tears from your cheeks. "You have to face him and the ghost of who you believe you were meant to be."

You shook your hand, "I'm scared." 

"We all are when we are faced with our ghosts, dear sister. We are all just haunted houses until a blessing brings us to light. You are yours." Rhysand kissed your forehead. "I will be right here. Right behind you. Lucien is almost with your physical body. I'll stay until with him and you it's safe to give you the cure."

He turned you back to the doorway where your Father stood leaning now. "Ah, there you are, little failure." He stalked towards you. "Does it haunt you every night? Does it haunt you that you prevented me from saving your mother, your sister?"

Rhys squeezed your upper arms as the house creaked with the turn of your emotions, further proving his statement that this damp, broken, and haunted cabin was your mind. Further proving you were the only one who could save you from this. "I had nothing to do with your choice to stay." 

He scoffed loudly. "Didn't you?" He moved towards you, grabbing you from Rhysand and gripping your arms so tightly his permanently taloned nails dug into them, "did you not earn that beating?"

You shook your head, Rhysand's hand reaching yours in support. "I had done nothing wrong."

The female was in the room again, looking towards your father in absolute terror. She was looking at him the way you always had. Like he was a demon conjured from magic, a witch had ripped from the Dark Mother herself.

Lucien slid next to you and Rhysand, cradling your head into his lap. "What is happening?"

Rhysand's jaw twitched. "Amarantha evidently gave her beasts Hemlock Poison Potion. She's trapped in the darkest parts of her own mind." His eyes were distant. "Keep talking to her, Little Lucien. She needs us."

Tamlin appeared in the clearing shifting to his human form, "Do you have an antidote?" Rhys shook his head. "What can we do?" 

"Be here. All we can do is be here."

"It was your job to protect me," your voice broke as another piece of the female behind him shattered. "You were supposed to love, shelter, and protect me, and you wanted to turn me into a monster."

Your father smirked, leaning into you with a breath that smelt of earth, death, and decay, "You are a monster, my little failure." His claw-like nails scratched your cheek as he moved your hair. "You will always be a monster, a failure, a disappointment." 

"I am none of those things," the female behind him gripped her chest, falling to her knees. "I am intelligent, cunning, charming, and kind." You watched as the female's breath became irradic and pointed to her, "That creature is not and has not even been me. Regardless of the beatings and cruel words, you did not turn me into her. Your failure is standing behind you, and it was made by no one but you." You watched as she leaned her hands to the ground, whispering tp herself as she began to turn into obsidian mist. 

"I will not allow you to beat me mentally anymore. You are in a grave, Father. You should stay in it." His face fell as he stepped back, and Rhysand stepped between you two. "I am not yours anymore. Leave."

Your brother shielded you from the burning light. Before turning to you. "You just have to wake up now, little moonbeam."

You shook your head, hugging him tightly. "But you'll be gone." 

He leaned in, kissing your forehead. "Evidently this is the final piece, actually." He then placed a hand on your ribcage, "I'm right here. All of us are right here. Cass, Az, Amren, Mor. You finding your mate in Lucien never changed that, and some day we will all be together again. I promise, sister. I will bring you home."

You shot awake, holding your hands to your chest as you sobbed heavily. Lucien pulled you into his chest, rocking you back and forth as he threw a potion bottle to the ground, allowing the liquid to disappear into a shimmering white Mist. "Lu-"

"Shhhh," he stroked your soaking hair. "It's okay, y/n. It was just a bad dream."

"It felt so real," you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I was so scared."

Tamlin knelt down next to you, placing a hand on your back to comfort you along with your mate. Lucien kissed you softly, "You are safe. You are loved. You are protected. It was just a dream."

"Just a dream," you said back. Staring towards where a black jacketed male leaned against a tree. His unhealthily pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight.

"Just a dream," him and Tamlin confirmed.

[pockcock]

gift wrapper // jason newsted x reader 1.2

read it on ao3. content: detective!jason newsted. detective!reader. police!au. slow burn. warnings: minors dni. other additional tags to be added. murder mystery. blood and gore. body horror. strangers to lovers. eventual smut. ptsd. gunshot wounds. plot armor. non-con elements. idiots in love. panic attacks. medical inaccuracies. inaccurate police procedures. thriller. mutual pining. the author has adhd.

January 31, 2011, Monday, 09:47 AM 

“Alright, I’ll stop by when they arrive.” Newsted had his phone between his shoulder and ear, driving to the scene. “What? No, I’m driving there now.”

You two had taken Newsted’s car to the scene, it was a gray Ford CV; very classic, very basic. It smelled manly with a hint of cigarettes, he must’ve been an occasional smoker. Aside from some pebbles here and there on the floor mats, the car was fairly clean. KISS was blasting through the speakers, a B-side track filling the atmosphere. There was an air freshener shaped like a pine tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a small orange collar with a charm that said ‘Georgie’.

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll ask him, don’t worry.” After hanging up, Newsted turned to you and muttered a silent ‘sorry’. “Kirk, our ME,” he explained. “He found some sort of thread or whatever stuck to the girl’s neck. Wanted me to ask Lars about it.”

“He found anything else?” you asked.

“Some scratches here and there but not much,” his face scrunched up. “He’s still waiting for the lab results.”

You nodded and pointed to the collar. “So you have a cat?” You wanted to get to know him before indulging yourself with the case. He was supposed to be your partner after all. “Georgie?”

“Nope, it’s a dog!” He smiled, it was a bittersweet one that didn’t reach his silver eyes. “I lost him a couple of years ago while solving my first case here in Seattle.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” you replied.

He thanked you with a low voice, eyes fixated on the road but filled with agony. Losing Georgie must’ve taken a toll on him. “He was old anyways, but, you know,” he took a left turn. “It hurt.”

“It must’ve been hard,” you said. “I have a cat, I can’t imagine losing her.” 

“Oh!” his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You didn’t strike me as a cat person.” 

“Why? Because I’m a cop?” You cocked an eyebrow with a smirk. 

His eyes flitted towards your face for a brief second. “You’re saying cops can’t have cats?” Teasing back, I see.

“Back in Boston, a lot of them had dogs,” you explained. “I found Coffee in an abandoned building, there was an overdose case. Everyone was surprised when I took her with me.”

“What was her name, you said?” Newsted furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Coffee.”

He cracked a laugh, scrunching his nose. “What?”

“What?” you exclaimed. “She had this condensed milk-colored fur when she was a kitten. Then she grew up and now, she has more of a brown to her. So I named her Coffee.”

His laugh was contagious. He laughed like a kid who heard a fart joke for the first time, you thought as you two got lost in a laughing frenzy. It was sweet and rich with his head thrown back and eyes squinted so tight, his dimples were mesmerizing. He made your cheek hurt. You wondered if he ever sprained his neck with how hard he threw his head back laughing.

“Condensed milk?!” He shook his head as if to gather his composure, and took the right lane to the dock. “That’s silly!” 

The dock was full of people left and right; crime scene investigators wearing white jumpsuits taking samples from the dock floor behind the yellow tape, police officers interviewing possible witnesses, some curious boat owners, passersby, and the morning patrol watching the whole scene as it unfolded. It wasn’t something you weren’t used to. 

“Do you have any gloves?” you asked when he killed the engine, he pointed at the glovebox. You found the box of gloves sitting next to a pack of Winston in there. “Thanks. Want a pair?”

He leaned into the backseat and came back with a coat. “I don't think we’ll be needing them.”

Newsted had his hands in the pockets of his coat as he walked towards the dock, relaxed and professional. You followed him like a tail, trusting him enough to not get any gloves. You two stopped right at the edge of the yellow tape. He greeted the investigators by name, then introduced you. You offered a smile. They smiled back, genuine and warm. They seemed kinder than the Boston crew, you compared. 

“Is Ulrich here?” After wishing the crew a good day you looked around to find someone who resembled a detective and took the Marlboro pack from your pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all.” He jerked his chin towards the short guy. He was wearing a black leather jacket with black slacks. He had round sunglasses and his earlobes were covered in piercings. His short, light brown hair, from what you could see, had started thinning around his forehead. There was a notepad in his hands, he scribbled something as the man spoke. “There, he’s taking witness statements.”

“Black jacket and glasses?” you asked, setting the poison alight and inhaling. Ulrich seemed to have noticed you as he waved a hand toward Newsted and he lifted a hand back.

He nodded. “Mind if I have some?”

You shrugged and passed it. “Is he a detective?”

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled. The cherry burned red as he inhaled, deep and slow. He held the smoke in his lungs before releasing it to the sky with his head tilted back and eyes squinted shut. “Ew,” He furrowed his brows and gave it back. “It tastes like shit.”

“It’s cigarette,” you took it before filling your lungs with smoke again, your eyes still on Ulrich. “It won’t taste good.”

As you were stomping on the finished butt, Ulrich came running. “Jason!” He bumped his fist into Newsted’s ringed one and Newsted wrapped his arm around the short man. Even through his glasses, you could see Ulrich’s eyes close with content for a brief moment. “Finally decided to show up, huh?”

“Shut up,” Newsted snickered as he released Ulrich and you saw his nipple piercings through the tank top he wore under his jacket. “How is Denmark?”

“Same old, same old. Pops said hi,” Ulrich sniffed then he turned to you, looking from behind his glasses, he shifted on his feet. His pupils were dilated and his whites were blood red. “And you are?”

“Detective Hunter.” You offered your hand but instead of shaking it, he popped a piece of gum into his mouth, sniffing a couple of times. Your hand stayed in the air, hanging, until he put the gum pack back in his pocket.

“Ulrich.” 

“Pleasure.” You offered him a forced smile. “What do we have here?”

Ulrich opened his notepad. “Holly Nelson, 22, female. Her ID and phone were in the box, so,” he scoffed and sniffed. “Thanks fucking God.”

“Patrol said anything?”

He pointed towards the dock. “One of the guys found the box around 5:50 am and opened it. We’ll find his fingerprints on the lid.”

Newsted took the pack of gum from his pocket. “Any witnesses?”

“Nah—Don’t steal!” Ulrich scolded. He was spinning the pen in his hand as he spoke, twisting, tapping it across the paper, and jumping it in his fingers occasionally. “CSI found a footprint on the dock, but,” He hissed through his teeth. “I don’t think it belongs to anyone real. My guy Sam over there, he told me there are a bunch of homeless fuckers around here.”

Newsted looked away for a second. “We need to take their statements too.”

“Yeah, well,” Ulrich popped a bubble and rubbed his nose. “A couple of cigarettes would help, y’know?”

Newsted snickered. “Yeah, I’ll give you some.”

The two kept talking as you stayed silent to observe Ulrich even further. He was talking fast and honey-thick with his accent, constantly fidgeting around and sniffing. He wasn’t as calm as Newsted or uptight like Beckett which made you lift your brows in surprise. You weren’t familiar with people like him working for homicide. Though Boston had them, they were mostly narcs hanging out on their own, some undercover some not. Never in homicide. 

“What about the parents? Siblings?” you interrupted. “Anything from them?

“Mom is a teacher at Seattle High, daddy dead, no sibling,” said Ulrich with a casual tone like it was just another Monday. Like a girl didn’t just die. He took off his glasses before proceeding to talk. “He died a couple of days after her second birthday.”

“Any lover? Someone from the past?”

“I tried her phone but these new ones have fucking locks!” He grimaced. “We got nothing until the IT cracks it open.”

“Does the mom know?” Newsted asked, his arms curled in front of his chest. 

“I don’t know,” Ulrich shrugged. “I called the school before coming here. She’s there till 3 PM.”

“Did you talk to her?”

Ulrich exhaled a bubble and popped it. “She was in class when I called the school, I spoke to the secretary or some shit.”

“So what do we know exactly?” you exhaled loudly. “Just a box and what? A fucking footprint?”

Ulrich cocked an eyebrow, he let your words hang in the air for a while before saying. “Look, I don’t know how you guys dealt with shit in Boston,” he pointed a finger. “But we can’t magically create evidence here.”

Your brows were drawn together, scoffing. “Magic? What the hell are you–”

He cut you off curtly. “We have a box, a head, and a footprint.” His tongue was darting at his cheek and he had lifted one of his brows, smirking. “If you need more,” he poked your shoulder. “Go search them yourself.”

“Okay! Why don’t you-” Newsted interrupted before the situation escalated further by taking the cigarette pack out of your jacket. His eyes were filled with annoyance and worry. “You go and talk to the people around, bribe some with this,” he gave it to Ulrich. “And we go speak with her mom? Okay?”

Ulrich stood silent with the pack sitting in his hands for a moment, weighing his options. His eyes never left yours. He then took one out and placed it between his lips before putting the pack in his pocket and taking a lighter. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” Newsted asked again as if to confirm it even more.

“Sure!” He lit it up and took a drag. “I’ll deal with the local shits and you go-” He waved his hand, shooing you away. “Talk to the mom. Show her how to do things here.”

Your jaw clenched as you took a step towards Ulrich. He just snickered and took a drag of your cigarette.

“Hunter,” Newsted pleaded, placing a soft hand on your back, urging you. “Let’s go.”

You felt Lars’ eyes digging into your back as you walked towards Newsted’s car. Right before getting in, you looked at him one last time, hoping to pierce through his stupid head with your eyes. Much to your disappointment, he returned your gaze with a salute, the cigarette still burning between his fingers.

Asshole.

[bullet-prooflove]

Good News - Jimmy Lanik x Reader

Tagging: @daniacat @annieradcliff @cosmic-psychickitty  @random-sofi   @giuls-ver  @crazy4chickennuggets @infinity-mars @elizabeththebat @emma-dawson @legit9thlunaticwarrior

The light was still on in your office but then again Jimmy had expected that. It was a tiny, confined space with barely enough space for your desk. Everyday the numbers of children and adults in care were raising and it was a struggle trying to accommodate them all. He watched you shoulder the burden of responsibility with your back straight and your chin up, ready to take any punch that came your way. You’d only been dating a couple of months, but he knew he had fallen in love with you, he’d never cared for someone so much, never wanted to, but somehow with you it was easy. He knew he was done for when the two of you had gone for breakfast after the Christmas Toy Drive.   

Jimmy had spent enough time with you recently to know that you fought for what you believed in, that you fought for the people that couldn't help themselves. He knew this was about the Abenaki case, that poor woman under the care of her son who barely gave a damn about her wishes. When he’d seen her being rolled out and back to the care home, he knew the court had ruled against you today and he knew that had to hurt.

Jimmy had been watching you from the open doorway for the past few minutes, gauging you from a distance. Your hair was drawn back into a messy bun. You propped your chin up on the palm of your hand. The noise of the pen scratching against the paper was echoing through the silence of the room. The motions were vicious and jagged, you were pressing down even harder as your anger at the situation grew and grew.

Jimmy knew a thing or two about the rage that was building up inside you, he could see it licking at your skin like dark flames, burning scars upon that impressionable flesh. The position you were in, it was the type of nightmare that sucked you dry and crushed the life right out of you.

Let it go, he wanted to say. Just let it go.

It was easier said than done. How did you release such a violent, passionate emotion without destroying anything around you? The truth was you couldn't.

Your shoulders were tightening with the progression of the thoughts that rambled through your mind. Jimmy observed your knuckles turning white as you bore down on the pen until a brutal crack exploded in the silence of the room. It was like a gunshot breaking through the peace, you opened your hand allowing the frail plastic shards to drop onto the desk as you glared at the offending item in disgust.

You shoved your chair away from the desk and rose to your feet before turning to see him standing in the door frame watching you. His eyes were on your features, and you knew that Jimmy wouldn't judge you for what was happening now. There was compassion and understanding in his eyes and you felt that vengeful force inside of you slowly drain away at the knowledge of his presence. In his hand you spied a small pudding pot, he held it up so that you could see it was butterscotch before tossing it to you.

"You need to eat something." he told you as you caught it.

You collapsed back into the chair as the fierce energy evaporated completely, making you feel empty and cold. The vehemence was something you could deal with; it empowered you and gave you strength, but this feeling was something you couldn't battle against. It was like being trapped under the ice with no way to break through the surface. You could feel yourself slapping against the layer above you, struggling to breath against the freezing sensation rushing through your veins.

You tried to hide the slight tremble of your hands as you popped the lid and released the plastic spoon. You lifted the lid to your mouth and licked the butterscotch pudding from the foil.

The notion was almost erotic, Jimmy felt that deep sexual feeling flushing through his groin at the simple gesture. God, everything you did was so sensual and titillating, he was sure you had no idea what you were doing to him. He knew he shouldn't be feeling like this, not when you were upset but there was raw intimate energy stirring up between you just like always.

Jimmy stepped into the room, the sound of his shoes clicking on the tiles as he strode towards you. His fingers wrapped around the back of the guest chair before he moved it so it was in front of you. He took the seat as you watched him reproachfully over the tub of butterscotch pudding.

Your woeful eyes fixed on him before you set down the empty pudding pot. Your fingers crept across your lap until you took his hands in your own bridging the connection between you. It felt like you had broken through the surface and could finally breath again. Warmth was twinging at the edges of your body, your fingers tingling as Jimmy's hands encompassed yours lovingly. The heat was welcome, it chased through your veins thawing you out.

Jimmy could see how desolate you felt, there was nothing he could do to take away the pain of losing this fight.

"Come here." Jimmy uttered, reaching out to draw you into his lap.

You curled into him instinctively, your cheek came to rest upon his shoulder as he gathered you up into the shelter of his arms.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of lavender and sandalwood. Your fingers tangled in his sage-coloured shirt. Jimmy cradled you close, your arms wrapping around his neck as he hugged you closer. Your nose trailed up along the curve of his throat, your lips enclosing over the tiny scar just under the curve of his jaw. Jimmy tilted his head back, a moan emitting from low in his chest. You placed another light kiss on his jaw. He stiffened under your touch, he’d come with the intention of comforting you, he just hadn’t expected it to be like this. Your lips ghosted along the shape of his chin as he tilted his gaze to look down at you. There was desire in those eyes, it was smouldering. God, he wanted you so badly.

Your lips were inches from his, you found yourself staring into those eyes and seeing everything you ever wanted inside them. Jimmy was restraining himself, there was nothing more he wanted to do than sweep everything off that desk and make love to you on it. This was love in all of it’s glory and he wanted to embrace it. You needed to see that he was invested, that he was here no matter what happened.

"Trust this to happen to me." You whispered against his mouth with a small smile. Jimmy felt the soft brush of your lips as you spoke. It was barely a kiss, but it meant the world to him. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

"Well, that’s good news.” Jimmy murmured with a smile of his own, his nose trailed along the length of yours until your lips were barely touching again. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you too.”

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

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[urdepressedslut]

All I know ❝part two❞

☆ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/The Winter Soldier x OC

☆ Summary: Bucky remembers something from his time in HYDRA, who is she?

☆ Warnings: dark themes, angst, trauma, torture, self harm

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

3 Months Later

Gasping awake, skin blue, the girl frantically looks around, forgetting where she was.. again.

She had lost track of when she saw anybody, or heard anyone for that matter. It was like everything disappeared, no noise, nothing.

It was driving her utterly insane, the missing whirring of machinery and screams of other people, everything had faded into silence. The unfamiliar sound of nothing only leaving a slight ringing in her ears, letting her hear the blood flowing through her veins.

Like others captured in HYDRA, she wasn't normal. She had undeniable one of the strongest abilities, immortality. Although, she did not heal fast. Like any other person she healed at a human rate, except death would never be an escape.

Even though her time here with others had been far from nice, she needed human interaction. She craved any touch even if it was violent. Now with her trapped in this concrete prison, she would suffer the wrath of her own mind, filled with twisted thoughts of many peoples nightmares.

She was so distressed the song had done little to comfort her, knowing punishment would be a reward for her next move, she was desperate for anything.

Screaming at the top of her lungs, she ripped her vocal chords, letting her voice bounce off the empty facility. She replayed the cry over and over, hoping someone would hear and free her from this hell.

After a moment listening for the familiar pounding steps, she heard nothing.

Letting the tears fall, she sobbed, not caring how loud she was considering she was all alone in the whole place. Screaming and crying she scratched at her arms, nails digging into her sore flesh that had yet to heal from past punishments.

Scooting closer to the wall, she began to slam her head into the concrete, not satisfied til she heard cracking, therefore she slammed it harder and harder until the black spots in her vision won and she welcomed darkness.

3 Years Later

BUCKY'S POV

Adjusting his black ball cap, he scanned the area over and over, paranoia the cause for his cautious behavior. He had been taking in and learning so much himself, unsure of new memories that came the longer he stayed hidden away.

Adjusting his backpack as well, he made sure to keep his bag with him at all times, keeping a notebook close just in case something were trigger another memory. Desperate for a normal lifestyle he could never have, he craved to one day try and have something even semi close.

Bucky walked down the street, relaxing as he came to a stop to the familiar fruit stand. Taking a close look at some clean looking plums, he exchanged some words between him and the owner. Bagging the plums for Bucky, the owner handed over the fruit with a gentle smile that he was not used to but gladly accepted, this new kindness was foreign to him.

Only after a couple steps away from the stand, Bucky got the familiar fuzz around his vision and the flashes of a memory. Squeezing his eyes shut quickly, he opened them soon after and walked to an empty alley in need of a notebook.

Scanning the area quickly he adjusted himself against the brick wall, leaning against it and pulling out a notebook quickly, as more flashes of memories came rushing.

A young girl, skin like porcelain walking close to my side facing forward with focus. I gripped her arm making sure to keep her in place, my grip slightly too tight.

Sensing movement, I glanced slightly to the girl noticing how she took in the lack of guards in the area and turned her innocent eyes into mine, catching me staring slightly.

Continuing forward she focused back to the pathway in front and spoke quietly, only for my super soldier senses to hear.

"I like your hair.. it looks super soft today."

Shocking me with her words, I stayed silent. She giggled to herself, which made my chest spark with warmth, the sound pleasing to hear in such a horrible place.

"Reminds me of a puppy.. I think I like puppies."

She trailed off, sounding unsure of what her likes and dislikes were. My chest jumped uncomfortably, a sense of unknown protectiveness rushing through me. But even though she spoke little, her words were kind..

Finishing the last word of the small confusing memory, he put his pen away and closed the book. Stashing it away with the others in his bag.

He furrowed his brows at the memory, one that was from his time at HYDRA. It was confusing, but the only other thing that disturbed him was the girl.

He couldn't remember any names, or how someone like her could even be forgotten in the first place. Bucky was shocked to remember such a angelic face in a torturous place. It pulled at his heart wondering what her fate had been, if it was quick, or if she was still..

Bucky stopped quickly, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't possibly think about the fact that the girl could still be trapped or worse.. dead.

It was unfair how many lives had been ruined and lost to HYDRA, but for some reason her face seemed to give some unknown strength to Bucky. Making him want to go back there just to answer his dreading question.

GIRL'S POV

Letting her eyelids slowly open, she took in a shaky breath. She was sure she died of starvation, again. It was maybe the 85th time? No 91.. She had no clue, all she knew was that her body was failing her, but her ability torturing her, not allowing herself to stay dead. She had lost any personality she had, she was a walking corspe. Well, crawling corspe, she hadn't stood up in.. years? She didn't know.

With a burn starting in her nose, she started to cry. Tears falling freely down her cheeks, she was tired and in pain constantly. She wanted to be free of it, she had given up long ago. She couldn't even remember the song she loved so much, a part of her dying with the loss of the memory the kept her together for so long. Letting her eyes shut, she wasn't visited by any monsters in the dark, she was truly alone, nothing reminding her of anything she was. No past, no memories. Just now.. Alone.

Using a sliver of energy that she didn't have, she sat upright and leaned against the wall. Letting her head mix with the cold of the concrete. She positioned herself, to stare at the door, hoping one day that it would open, she didn't care if they came in to drag her to the room of pain, she wanted to leave this suffocating hell.

Slowly she let herself fall into a mindless stare, keeping her eyes trained on the door, but her mind had already left her. Her eyes grew grey and cloudy, them not focusing on much, instead everything getting blurry. Her brain felt like mush. She would rot in this cell, she knew it. That thought alone brought a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks. She wanted.. something but she wasn't sure what. For now she was lost in her own mind, confused at everything and anything.

She was so lost, she hadn't heard the rusted door creaking to her cell, she didn't hear the grunt.

BUCKY'S POV

The last cell he approached, was shut tight. The door seeming untouched just like the rest of the place. The little window was smeared with red, making it unable to see through. His stomach flipped, anxiety growing in his gut. Just like every other door opened, he was afraid of what to find inside, but so far they had all been empty, this could be just another haunted room.

Turning the handle with his metal arm, he twisted and grunted as the door was much harder to open than the others, but with some force and strain, he was able to pull it open. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim grimy cell, his eyes finally landed on the small figure leaning up against the wall in the right corner of the room. His heart about stopped, his body going into shock and freezing on sight. His memory, the girl.. it was her.

Taking her in immediately he noticed her unfocused eyes that were oddly on the doorway, but the way her eyes stayed cloudy, no thoughts behind them. He frowned at her sickly looking skin. But what had hurt the most to look at was the steady stream of tears flowing down her dirty cheeks, she was in pain and had been for god knows how long. The fact that she hadn't brought attention to Bucky entering the room was alarming.

He didn't know how to approach her, or what to do. He wondered why he had come here, it was a mistake. This girl wasn't his problem, he doesn't know how to take care of himself, let alone another person. Bucky recovered from those thoughts, he was here.. he had found her. Whether he liked it or not, she was his problem now. He chose to answer his dreading question ever since the memory he received.

Letting himself focus his eyes back on her, he was shocked to see that her eyes were wide and staring at him. She was crawled back further into the corner almost like she was trying to hide. Her body shook slightly, she seemed terrified and unsure of what was happening.

A/N: Thank you @foreverrandomwritings for beta reading this for me!

[elijahkelly]

6/30/2023

I don’t know.

It’s been 3 days since I took my Prozac and I’m starting to be able to tell.  Champagne (my cat) was scratching at my door and it made me mad so I threw my tv remote across the room.  I regretted it as soon as the remote left my fingers.  Thankfully it just hit the wall, but I was embarrassed that I got so angry.

Dylan.  Where do I start?  I guess I’ll start by saying this.

I’m scared to admit that it feels like there are cracks in our relationship, because it feels like once you acknowledge those cracks, that’s when everything collapses.  But I’m seeing the cracks.  And they’re fissuring.

Dylan has lost trust in me.  He’s constantly on my case about what I’m doing on my phone, who I’m talking to, etc.  He sees a name on my phone that he doesn’t recognize and suddenly I’m being bombarded about who it is and where they’re from.  He makes jokes about me having hoes in my phone, despite how much I tell him it makes me uncomfortable.

Dylan literally went from wanting to propose to me in LA to going through my phone while I’m sleeping and running background checks on everyone I talk to.  What’s going on?

Before I talk about this next part, I need to give some backstory about a character.  His name is Brennan.  Brennan is a fellow gay, and he got a job at Sanderson a few months after I did.  He worked the front desk with me and Dylan, and over that time, he and Dylan became friends.  His abrasive personality and crude humor wasn’t appealing to me, so we’re “friends” I guess? But not as close as he and Dylan are.  Eventually, Brennan quit his job at the front desk and transitioned over to working in our fitness department as a spin instructor.  Dylan trained him to teach spin, and he went on to become Dylan’s boss in the department, which gave them something else to bond over.  During shifts where I was the manager on duty and Dylan was working with me, Brennan would come up to the front desk to bother us.  By “bother us,” I mean he would come over and talk to Dylan, mess around with Dylan, make jokes with Dylan, beat up on Dylan, make tiktoks with Dylan, you name it.  All while I’m sitting there, just watching.  I’ve told Dylan on multiple occasions that I am not Brennan’s biggest fan, but for some reason Dylan keeps him around.

Last night.  Dylan and I went with some friends to a bingo night hosted by Trinity Devine, a drag queen and friend of ours.  While we were there, Brennan showed up.  He was already pretty drunk, and he brought the guy he had been seeing.  He came and said hi to everyone at our table, of course not forgetting to give Dylan a big hug.  Then he got around to me and I was waiting on him to say hi to me, when he goes “are you just gonna pretend you don’t like me, Eli?”  I really wanted to tell him I’m not pretending, but I just played it off.  Anyways, throughout the night, he progressively got more drunk.  He kept coming up and hugging on Dylan, play wrestling with him, tickling him, etc.  All while I’m sitting right there and the guy he brought was at the next table over.  I made eye contact with Sav and she just widened her eyes at me, kinda like a “what the fuck is going on” look.  It was uncomfortable.

I don’t know what’s going on with me and Dylan.  I don’t know why we’re suddenly so hellbent on hurting each other.  I want to go back to when we were good and everything felt okay.  Because this does not feel okay.

Hopefully things will change soon.  Dylan got a GA position for Housing, and this position requires him to stay in a building on campus.  So in a couple weeks, he’ll be moving out of my apartment.  It’ll be sad not seeing him all the time, but I think that’s why we’ve been so toxic to one another.  Not to mention he will also have to leave his job at Sanderson, so we won’t work together anymore either.  Having some time apart will be much needed.  Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Let me set this straight.  I love Dylan with my entire capacity.  Nothing in this goddamn world is gonna take him away from me except for Death themselves.  Relationships are not perfect, not even the best ones.  Dylan is my best friend and he will be in my life for the rest of it if I can help it.  We’re allowed to have cracks, we’re allowed to struggle, we’re allowed to have our moments.  There is purity and love between us that can’t be stifled.  No relationship is perfect.  Relationships are fabricated for media to look perfect but that isn’t real.  Real relationships have grit, stakes, growth, disputes, mistakes, trials, and change.

We will be okay.

We can get through this.