#exhibit A: I always messed everything up…I just want to be useful to someone for once!

[afflatusssss]

It was the weight of guilt that sent Icarus crashing down a second time; he wondered if he was always destined to be punished for loving something brighter than himself, even in death.

[ddarker-dreams]

Lock I need you to share something about Gojo. Jjk is getting worse with no hope in the future. Plis just a tiny part is god. 🙏🙏🙏🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Detour.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Mild not SFW implications, Gojo and Geto are Not normal about you, exhibiting possessive behavior. Word count: 1.2k.

-Index-

"—Excuse me, miss!" 

The exclamation barely registers amidst the crowded street's ambiance. Everyone has a destination they're eager to reach, and you're no different. Unlike those native to the area, however, you're more likely to get lost; hence your current conundrum. 

You examine the mess of squiggly lines, blocks, and patterns intended to function as a map. 

Kagurazaka, Kagurazaka... c'mon, I know this one... it starts with the kanji for god or something, right? 

While you scrutinize the map, the same voice from earlier calls out again, this time beside you. You glance around, not wanting to respond if he’s trying to flag down someone else. In doing so, it becomes increasingly obvious that you’re who he’s been trying to grab the attention of. 

From the looks of it, he’s a man in his late thirties, wearing a suit that could use a good ironing. You can’t recall meeting him before. Then again, you’re not privy to everything that happens back on campus. Meetings with influential figures frequently occur without your knowledge. You only ever find out about them later when Satoru loudly voices his critical view on everyone who attended. You are wearing your uniform, it’s recognizable to those in Jujutsu circles. 

You’d rather not stir up a scandal by unintentionally snubbing a Zenin or someone equally important. With this in mind, you politely inquire, “Can I help you?” 

“That uniform… you’re a high schooler, right?” 

You nod, figuring that this confirms your hypothesis. 

“What year?” 

This question makes less sense. Maybe he wants to know your proximity to Suguru, or, far likelier, Satoru. These types always have their own designs for the pride of the Gojo clan. 

“I’m a second-year.” 

“I see, I see,” he begins rummaging through his blazer’s inner pocket. He procures a business card and holds it out. “How about a job? From the looks of it, you’d make a good fit.” 

You blink. 

Are you… allowed to do freelance work? You’ve heard of specific sorcerers being requested for jobs, but that’s always been through the school. Besides, as a Grade Three, you don’t think you can go on unsupervised jobs. Not wanting to seem rude, you reach out to accept the card— 

—Only for it to be intercepted. 

“Sorry, she’s completely booked,” a voice that sounds the furthest thing from apologetic chimes in. 

Gojo Satoru stands to your right, adorned with his circular sunglasses and trademark grin. He rips the card in half without so much as a second thought. You stare at him, incredulous. Questions swarm around your head. When did he get here? How didn’t you notice him until now? Why does his cursed energy have such an unnerving quality to it? 

He bends down and hangs his arm around your shoulder. “You’re somethin’ else. Ignoring Suguru and I’s calls, chatting up strange men in Kabukichō… I swear, we can’t take our eyes off you for a second.” 

“Wh— I’m not chatting anyone up!” You whisper yell. His infinity nullifies enough for you to jab a finger at his chest. “Why can’t you give better directions?! ‘West of the Edo Castle’ doesn’t tell me anything, it just sounds like a TV drama!”

Satoru shrugs. “Should’ve just asked an auxiliary manager to drop you off.” 

“You might treat them like a personal taxi service, but I’d rather not. Taking the train’s fine.” 

The man finally overcomes the shock inflicted by Satoru’s audacity, taking a step forward. “What are you, her boyfriend or something?” 

“Bleh, no!” 

“Future husband.” 

Yours and Satoru’s responses come out simultaneously. 

“In that case—” 

“Excuse me,” A new presence interrupts the increasingly irritated man. Suguru wears a friendly smile which somehow comes across as more menacing than Satoru’s wolfish grin. He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You are aware that it’s a minor you’re trying to recruit, correct?” 

The man flushes at the accusation. “Listen, I dunno what you’re trying to accuse me of—” 

“I’d hate to see you get in trouble for a mistake like that,” Suguru cuts him off again, raising his voice ever so slightly. This attracts the attention of some bystanders. “Who knows what consequences that’d result in, especially for a married man like yourself…” 

Huh. You hadn’t even noticed the gold band on his ring finger. Suguru’s nothing if not perceptive. 

Nearby commuters whisper amongst themselves while eyeing the scene. The man’s gaze flits between a self-satisfied Satoru and an overly polite Suguru, eventually settling on an escape route. Wordlessly, he departs, although you swear you overhear him muttering ‘crazy kids’ and ‘doomed girl,’ along the way. 

“Yo, Suguru. Took you long enough.” 

“Unfortunately, not all of us can teleport.” 

“Your curse did a better job at tailin’ me than you.” 

Ignoring the jab, Suguru dusts his hands off while honing in on you. “You alright? You weren’t answering our calls.” 

“And you’re late,” Satoru whines. He helps himself to searching through your purse, taking your pink Razr hostage. “Huh. Battery’s dead.” 

Suguru appears content. “What’d I tell you?” 

“If she’s blocked me before, the same could happen to you.” 

“I wouldn’t block Suguru.” 

“She wouldn't block me.” 

This time, it’s you and Suguru who speak concurrently. Satoru pouts, putting his hands up like he’s under attack (which he probably believes himself to be). You snatch your phone back without issue, unlike when he last stole it. He unblocked himself and dangled it above your head until you promised you wouldn’t do that again.

“And here I was, about to treat you both to pastries,” Satoru sighs, melodramatic as ever. 

“While we were waiting for you, I noticed creampuffs and macaroons on the menu; which would you recommend?” Suguru inquires, not bothering to acknowledge Satoru’s complaints. 

“That depends on what you want from the experience,” you mimic his decision. “Creampuffs tend to be one flavor, whereas macaroons come in multiple, so the variety’s nice. When I get a variety pack, I always end up disliking one of the flavors and wishing I’d just gotten my favorites instead.” 

Satoru sighs as loud as he can. “Right, right, I’m just a walking wallet. Let’s get going before someone else solicits [First].” 

“Eh?” You turn your head to face Satoru. “‘Solicits?’ As in…?” 

“Se—” 

Suguru slaps a hand over Satoru’s mouth. “What he means to say is that this isn’t the best area for a high school girl to linger.”

“W-Wait, hold on! I thought he was like a… er, how would you say that… sorcerer employer?” 

They both stare at you. 

“You do know what Kabukichō’s famous for, right?” Suguru tentatively asks. 

“Hm? ‘Kabuki’ is a type of traditional theater, isn’t it?” 

“...” 

“...” 

“Let’s just show her what we mean,” Satoru bends down, picking up two halves of the business card he split in half earlier. “It’ll be a good lesson. I’d rather not have to come fetch her in this place again— oh.” 

Suguru inspects what has the power to shut Gojo Satoru up. You watch as his eyes move back and forth, his face shifting while he does so. His lips narrow into a thin line when he pulls back. Curious, you stand on your tiptoes, hoping to catch a glimpse yourself. Thankfully, there’s yomigana above some of the kanji you don’t recognize. This eliminates any possibility of you misreading the card’s contents. 

‘Oh’ indeed, you think. That poor guy…

It’s a business card for the company that oversees AKB48. 

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Karasuno, Shiratorizawa, Inarizaki and Nekoma:

Manager has an Art Exibit

Karasuno x GN! Manager; Shiratorizawa x GN!Manager; Inarizaki x GN! Manager; Nekoma x GN! Manager

Warnings: PURE FLUFF, light swearing

A/N: This is an Anon request

Karasuno

The most feral of the 4 teams

I think we all know this but just to reiterate

Literally, I don’t care if they know absolutely nothing about art

The fact is they all suddenly become FASCINATED by it just because their manager is into it

Asahi has the most appreciate, followed by Kiyoko and Yachi

When they first find out you are into Art, they demand to see what you do daily

Idk if you only added one line to a drawing or maybe planned a new piece of pottery

These boys will be so into it!

They will ask the same question daily which is “can you teach me YN?”

When you tell them you have an exhibit coming up, they don’t even ask if they are invited

They just assume 😌

If it’s at a fancy place, they were their school uniforms because it’s the nicest thing they own 🤣

Daichi reminds them to keep the volume to a minimum

Hinata tells Kageyama not to look at anything breakable because his face is ugly/scary enough to break it on site

The “iTs My FaCe AsShOlE” speech follows

Tsukki is actually semi interested and wanders around looking at the exhibits

Noya and Tanaka glare at everyone until they say how amazing your pieces are 🙄

Ennoshita tells you that he will forcefully remove them if needed

Suga actually asks detailed questions about your work and super interested

Hinata is forced to stay next to Yamaguchi so he doesn’t accidentally break anything

All in all, solid 20/10 support and 6/10 safety around breakable pieces 🥰

Shiratorizawa

The most regal of the teams

Literally they showed up, literally in suits YN

SUITS 🫡

Someone quick, take a picture for your memory wall 📱

Honestly they don’t talk about your art much because volleyball practice is for volleyball

But after practice, Semi, Reon and Tendou show the most interest

Semi is super into your style and is always looking at your sketches/ finished products

Reon and Tendou are just super supportive, giving feedback and wanting to learn more

Ushijima doesn’t say anything BUT he is totally listening and storing away everything you say

Goshiki, well Goshiki tries 😅

He wants to know more but the boy doesn’t have a creative bone in his body

He is the definition of a “super volleyball idiot”

Shirabu and Kawanishi don’t really understand art but they still encourage you none the less

At your exhibit, they all walk the floor together

Like a flock of birds 😂

One of them moves and they others follow

They only mingle with you and keep a close eye on your work

Literally they don’t want anyone messing with all the hard work you’ve put in

You’ll talk with them about what you’ve done and that’s when Ushijima surprises you

“I see you used the light purple over the dark purple Yn, that was an excellent move.”

The team 👉🏻👁️👄👁️

Tendou 👉🏻🖐🏻👁️⭕️👁️🖐🏻

You 👉🏻🥹

These boys adore you so much YN, solid 10/10!

Inarizaki

Kita puts it on the board in the teams locker room

“YN’s art exhibit at 7pm TUESDAY NIGHT! Show up or I’ll make sure you get benched!” -Kita ❤️

That message was meant for one person and one person only

And I think we all know who 👀

*cough* ATSUMU *cough*

It’s not that Atsumu doesn’t support you, it’s just that his brain really only functions on volleyball

Kita and Aran will use every change they get to hype up your art work

Omimi suggests they use it in volleyball somehow

Even if it’s pottery or creative writing, they find a way

Akagi is super interested in what you do, always asking questions

Suna sits by you while you work, you have an unspoken relationship of just silent co-existence

He’s super peaceful 😌

Ginjima is a hype man, literally show him your new work and he will scream your praises

Osamu and you both encourage each other in your chosen talents

You taste his creations and give feedback and he critics your art

He’s an honest boy and we support it!

Riseki, our sweet baby, just loves supporting you because it makes you smile

At the exhibit, they honestly act semi normal

Atsumu and Osamu promised not to fight

Suna and Ginjima stood in between Samu and Sumu so they DIDNT fight

Kita, Aran, Omimi and Akagi are all like ridiculously interested in art

Like they talk to you about all the exhibits and point out their favs

Riseki kind of stands there, awkward but he tries

Sumu compares art to volleyball and how he’s basically the artist of the team

Samu tells Sumu that volleyball is a sport, not an art which leads to fighting

Which then leads to Suna and Gibjima having to take the children home early

Solid 10/10 moral support but they might cause you a lot of stress 😅

Nekoma

I’m calling it, best team for Art Exibit support goes to Nekoma 🏆

Literally they are the most calm of all of the teams here and definitely beyond supportive

Literally YN, they worship the ground you walk on

So when they find out you are into Art, oh lord

They bug you non-stop to show them what you’re doing

Kuroo doesn’t even need to remind them you have an exibit, they just show up

Kai and Yaku are your support system, giving feedback and helping you carry things and organize everything

Yamamoto is security, hype man and literally #1 Yn simp

Kenma thinks your art is awesome and you’re one of the only people he talks to regularly

Lev, Shibayama, and Inuoka literally adore you so much and want to know everything about your art

Fukunaga, a fellow artist but with words, literally always knows just the thing to say to cheer you up

And Kuroo talks about how you are the carbohydrates that fuel the team 😂

Because he would and we all know it

At your exhibit, they are the first to show up and the last to leave

Kenma might sneak off and play a game or two

But the rest are super interested

Kai takes photos, if allowed, and posts them in the teams group chat

Yaku will discuss every single exibit with you

Kuroo stands around like a proud dad 😂

Lev critics things because he’s an honest boy even thought he knows nothing about art

Inuoka and Shibayama literally just gawk at you because you are so cute when you are happy

Yamamoto is alot like Tanaka and Noya but a tiny bit tamer

Fukunaga takes notes on what he wants to talk to you about later when he finally gets to discuss your art with you

100/10 support

[unactivewaspsfics]

Hi, I saw that you were open for OW requests and was wondering if it was okay to request Hanzo with an introverted s/o? They like to relax at home more instead of going to parties and having a quiet life. Only going out sometimes for dinner or a movie/museum. How would their relationship start and how would he show affection? Thank you in advance! <3

Insecure Connection

A/N: RAHHHH TY FOR MY FIRST REQUEST <33 I tried my best and I do really hope you enjoy it anon! I haven't written for Hanzo or Requests so if I messed up don't feel scared to tell me where I messed up at! I put so much love into this omg </3 ALSO, if there isn't a said gender in a request I will try to not give any specified gender :) Ily and enjoy reading :D.

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada X Introverted S/O

Word Count: 1,195 words

How You Met / How Your Relationship Started:

Okay, so I feel like Hanzo would 100% of met you at an Aquarium, more specifically in the jellyfish exhibit. Hardly anyone is in there because of the dark but he admires the shapes, sizes, and the jellyfish themselves as they glow.

You saw he was, basically, the only other person there so you decided to join next to him and view The Box Jellyfish they had in a giant tank in the center of the exhibit. The two of you stood next to each other for, at least, 4 minutes. Each of you giving the other brief glances.

Hanzo took a deep breath, sensing how awkward this moment was, and decided to ask you, “So, which Jellyfish is your favorite?”. You smiled, replying with your favorite jellyfish, which the exhibit didn't have. You explained for a moment how you came all this way for a Jellyfish that wasn't even there. Hanzo nodded his head in agreement, replying with "I am so sorry... There must have been another reason you came here?".

You nodded, giving a small laugh before saying how when you were stressed, going to places like this would help calm you down. It was a kind of haven, no one really to bother you and it wasn't so overwhelming your social battery would go down quickly.

Hanzo agreed. "Social spaces also make me... anxious in a sense. I can't always be in them for too long. I am glad you understand what I go through." This interaction was the start of your friendship.

The two of you would spend the rest of the aquarium visit together, commenting briefly on the ocean life and similar experiences you may have. You never realized how much you could connect with someone out of online experiences like the way the two of you connected at this moment!

By the end of the visit, the two of you decided to exchange numbers. The moment you got home you started to message Hanzo. He replied almost immediately. The more the two of you messaged, and sent memes (although he wasn't 100% how to send them or what they were at first), you guys hit it off! The cycle repeated for weeks on end until the messages started implying more hangouts.

You and Hanzo went to many little 'mini-dates' over the year after the aquarium. You visited bookstores, history and art museums, went to hidden lakes to swim, and even went on a week-trip to a cabin in the woods. That trip is where everything started to change between you two, more than it ever has.

During the first half of the week, it was filled with swimming, smores, movie nights, coffee morning, Hanzo teaching you how to shoot a bow while you taught him how to see constellations in the stars. It was like a dream to you and Hanzo.

It was one certain night though, the two of you sat outside next to the fire, the radio playing quiet music as nature also sang her song. Hanzo sitting right next to you on the only wooden bench at the cabin as the fire started to burn out.

"I just would like to tell you," he began, closing his eyes with a deep breath, and leaning back into the seat. "You have been one if not, the only person who understands me to an extent. I don't want us to ever... ever fade apart." You smiled, agreeing with him, noticing how nervous he seemed. You questioned Hanzo about it and he didn't reply, only opening his eyes and looking off into what was left of the fire.

"I have to say this but I would like it if we are able- if you want to officially be my partner... romantically, I mean." He said, clearing his throat through his pauses as he turned to you. Your confused look turned into a smile. You mentioned to him how you felt the same way, the same connection of an introvert finding their duo; their other half in a sense. Hanzo smiled. He smiled more than you could possibly handle.

You moved your hand to his cheek, cupping it as he did the same to you. He laughed under his breath, blowing you a small kiss with a wink. This caused you to move your hand and start laughing; both of you started to laugh harder. It was so sudden and out of character for him, you weren't expecting it! (He wasn't expecting himself to do that either.

"I am- so sorry dear," he said between laughter, calming his composure quickly. You told him it was 'okay, love', that night being the start of your relationship... officially, I mean.

How Hanzo shows his affection:

I believe he shows his affection for you mainly through small gifts, acts of service, and physical touch.

Regarding small gifts I mean stuff most people wouldn't really notice or care for, but you do. Before the two of you started to stay over at each other's places he would bring you your favorite flower every time you two saw each other after agreeing to start dating. Whether that be just meeting up for coffee, a mini-date, or even just hanging out at each other's homes.

You also started to notice that he would leave little notes behind with you whenever he stayed over at your house. The notes would have little cute poetry written on them, each one writing out a thing he loved about you. It was actually pretty cute, you kept every note he left.

The next affectionate thing he would do is acts of service. If it was to help you with shopping or cleaning your home he would be over to help when we could. He loved spending time with you, and even more if he could help you with something that you have pushed back for a while.

He also never minded buying you stuff you saw from stores online. You couldn't make comments about a jacket looking good without him buying it with quick shipping! Because of this, you started to have to remind him just because you say you might want something, it doesn't mean you want it. But you understood where Hanzo came from, he just wanted to make you happy and If that meant buying you stuff then that is what he has to do!

Finally, physical touch. He may not seem like it, but he is the kind of person to cuddle up on the couch or give you kisses on your shoulders or forehead. Even if you may not be a fan of it, he would respect it and hold back.

But come on, no way you could keep declining that face! When you allowed him to cuddle or hug you, kiss you, or even hold your hand, he cherished every moment of it. He would tighten his hold on you as you lay next to him on the bed, pushing his face into your shoulder and kissing it quietly with a hidden smile on his face. If you held hands he would squeeze your hand so firmly, rubbing his thumb on yours while he leaned more onto your body.

[stardusthuntress]

EnigmaTech - Ch. 1

My Tech lives AU! This one is based on the idea that the Bad Batch just needs someone with a clear head to follow his trail and appreciate the man for what he is truly capable of! So far I’ve stuck to one-shots and imagines, but this one felt like it needed a little more. I’m not a many-chapter-fic writer, but this one I felt like it could be divided into 3-4 solid chapters that focus on the beloved brainiac. Consider it a mini-series! 

(Part 2)

Chapter 1 - Clues 

Tech x FAB!reader (eventually, but he doesn't meet her quite yet) (just female pronouns; no use of y/n, it’s all in third person [she/her]; no physical description in this one) 

Word Count: ~2.5K

Chapter Summary: Using only what the batch has at their disposal (a lot more than they realize, thank you Tech), a new friend manages to convince them that Tech survived and is in need of their help!

TW: mentions of Tech’s demise (but he lives!); reader infodumping (self-indulgent, sorry! I really connected with Tech on this and this is how I'm coping with the writers' poor decisions at the end of s2); I am a scientist, so I wanted to bring my own experiences into this a bit, hopefully, I got all the details correct, I'm not a geneticist tho, nor a comp sci person, so please be nice if I messed up!

Author's Notes:

Somehow, this came out from Hunter’s pov. Wasn’t exactly the way I’d planned it, and this might change in the next chapter, but I needed a way to illustrate how Hunter was struggling with losing two brothers and his little girl (he's 100% a girl dad now, no going back).

Also, this is totally self-indulgent. I always write she/her/reader's pov like it's me because that's what I know how to do. If I can write from the heart it's more genuine. Hope you guys are okay with that!

I like to make references to other fandoms and stuff when I write, hope you guys don’t mind that. There’s at least 1 blink-and-you-miss it Hamilton reference, among others… hehehe!

Side note, this was not beta'd. I tend to just crank stuff out because it's on my mind, and post it asap so I can get it off my chest. Please lemme know if there are typos and if you guys like it!

Tech dividers by @/djarrex!

She joins the team shortly after Tech and Omega are stolen from them. 

When the bad situation they were in got even worse, they ran to Rex, in need of a calm, collected, commanding presence that wasn’t in the grip of fresh losses to help them figure out what to do next. Rex brought them his best analyst, an old friend who quietly helped out in secret during the war, and now helped him rescue as many brothers as he could. 

Echo knew her. They came up with a few battle strategies together when he was with the 501st. He trusted her with his life. 

Hunter, who always held his trust in reserve to begin with, now trusted even less since Cid is the reason Omega is now in the clutches of the Empire. But Rex and Echo insisted, and he knew they were in dire straights and would not be able to rescue Crosshair and Omega (and Tech) on their own, especially not while their better judgment was clouded with so much pain. 

At first, she just helps AZI patch them up and keep an eye on them as they heal. Slowly, they begin to trust her a little more. As she brings them water so they don’t have to get up, and sits with and chats with Wrecker until he falls asleep, and helps Echo with his prostheses, and always makes a point to do everything quietly to go easy on Hunter’s senses. They appreciate how her effort says she cares.

Eventually they start letting her learn them a bit more. And they learn more about her. She’s an interesting mix. She’s somewhat neurodivergent like Tech - she can go on endless infodumps and loves to learn. But she also has moments where she exhibits what Tech once described to the as “neurotypical behaviors”. She jokes with the men and flirts with them when the time is right. She gets a lot of social cues, but she does miss a fair amount too. The boys learn why Tech describes his differences like a spectrum. 

Eventually, Hunter and Echo come to the realization that she is going to need notes, detailed notes, if they are going to find their lost siblings. They have all tried giving her as many notes as they can remember, but in order to do enough research to find them, she would need to know more about Crosshair and Omega, and no one took notes on everyone quite like Tech did. They decided to give her access to Tech’s notebook, if all 3 of them agree on it. So they confront Wrecker. He’s all in. He trusts her, despite Cid’s betrayal, his determination to see the best in people has hardly wavered. Anything she needs to help them get their brother’s back is fine with Wrecker. And he trusts that if both Hunter and Echo have come to the same conclusion, then it’s worth it. 

For days she sat reading his copious notes, it kept her quiet and distant from them - Hunter was grateful for that, he needed time to adjust to her presence He wasn’t used to being around a woman so often. She brought a different way of existing to the soldier’s lifestyle he was used to. 

Her habits and mindset was somewhat new to him. 

“It may seem like an enigma now, but there are clues everywhere. You just need to know where to look and how to read them” she had said when she began her quest to learn more about their fallen brother, lost brother, and stolen sister. 

He was just grateful he, Wrecker, and Echo didn’t have to re-live the pain watching that horrible moment all over again to try to get something out of it. 

One day she begins to surface from his notes. Hunter braces, he had gotten used to her presence like that, and didn’t think he was ready for the conversations about brother’s end that were certainly coming. 

“This passage here, about Omega… it doesn’t make sense, it’s not Tech’s words” 

“What do you mean?” Hunter peers over her shoulder “that’s him alright, watched him write that one myself shortly after we picked her up.” 

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, sorry… these words are phrased exactly the way he writes everything, his speech patterns, his grammatical ticks, he IS the one that physically wrote the words down, except one thing doesn't match his pattern: the scientific errors. The one thing he knew none of you could check.” 

“So, you’re saying that Tech tricked us?” Hunter’s annoyance is apparent in his tone. His temper was on a short fuse these days, but she understood why. 

“No! I’m saying he’s employing a handy psychology tactic here. Usually used only for one of two purposes: reassurance or manipulation, but it’s definitely the former.” You hold up a hand, knowing Hunter is read to interject and snatch Tech’s datapad away from you for implying Tech would ever deceive his brother’s and harm them. “I know, you watched him write it and he would clearly never hurt any of you intentionally. A later passage about his conversation with Omega about feelings clearly conveys that quite eloquently and explains how deeply he cares for each one of you, but I think he might be trying to protect you from the full truth here, at least until he knowns what it is. As I’m sure you noticed, almost everything he writes has a double meaning, if not a triple meaning.” 

Hunter’s eyes remain narrowed, but he’s quiet, waiting for the whole story before he makes any decisions. He was protective of his little family before, and that’s multiplied tenfold since Cid’s betrayal cost them so much. 

“This passage here uses the word “perfect copy” to describe Omega, but there’s a lot inherently incorrect about that from a scientific perspective, and Tech clearly knows that. Perfection is, technically speaking, unachievable. There’s always something that deviates from the original, just a little, especially when discussing the complexities of genetics. I’m no geneticist, but his notes from when you first met Omega states that according to his scan (the results of which are included in the notes), she bears the female genetic marker - two X allosomes, and no Y - and has since she was created, which in and of itself means that she cannot be a perfect copy of Django who was male at birth, and bears the same male genetic markers that you lot do - an XY allosome pair. Which means, his statement here that she is a “perfect copy” is incorrect and he clearly knows that… at one point he even goes on to describe how she displays more neurotypical traits like you boys, rather than his neurodivergent ones… (whispered) paternal traits indeed, you’re definitely a clone of Django, you shouldn't worry about that Tech... He could be referring to her as a ‘perfect child’, however, again, perfection is inhuman and totally impossible when referring to something as complex as a sentient being, so that’s also unlikely unfortunately, as sweet as it would be for him to describe her like that… Earlier he mentioned that Nala Se told Tarkin that there were 5 ‘genetically deviant clones’ and that that must include Omega because Echo is genetically a ‘Reg’…” 

She turns to face Hunter directly, “Tech knew you were reading this over his shoulder and had access to it. He’s doing his best to describe Omega in a way that will only fortify your protection of her, not because that would ever waver - he describes several times how your paternal instincts are very attached to her, and he is both certain and grateful that nothing could change that - but he does it because she is very important to something, some big secret thing the Kaminoans are doing, though I don’t think he knows what exactly…” she trails off, searching through the datapad for more as she thinks. 

Hunter is shocked, first by her analysis, second by how easily she read Tech, and third by the fact that he, Hunter, is starting to agree with her analysis. “But if they’re ‘not his words’ as you said… then whose words are they?” 

She’s silent for a moment, as she considered this, still scrolling back through Tech’s copious notes. Hunter is struck for a moment how Tech always seemed to write like he was running out of time… 

“I think… I think, based on the way he explains how you lot describe Omega when she’s asleep and your paternal instincts ‘truly appear’ as he puts it, and,” she emerges from Tech’s notes for a moment, and Hunter is struck by how she’s just like Tech “and from my personal experience around you lot… I think he’s using your own words as a way to reassure you. Again, a handy psychology trick when used by a kind hand.” she nervously dives back into Tech’s notes. Hunter notes how she seems to make an effort to not annoy him again. 

She continues with her thought as her mind races on “all of the words he uses to describe Omega have positive connotations, there’s no hidden negativity, which means his intentions are good and not manipulative.” 

She looks up, but doesn’t totally dissociate from the datapad this time, her eyes still glossy wand swirling with thoughts. She opens her mouth like she’s poised to say more, but worry crosses her features “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again. I’ll stop. I do that a lot, I know.” 

She looks around concerned, by this point both Echo and Wrecker have joined the conversation, but none of them can look at her right now. 

Hunter is the first to speak “don’t worry, we’re used to it, Tech does the same thing all the time… or… used to anyways.” 

She tenses a bit “understood, I’m sorry for your loss, I still intend to help you as much as I can. Loss like that is cruel, let’s see if we can get him back, yeah?” 

“Yeah” Hunter relaxes a tiny bit, but feels the sadness of loss settling in. He doesn’t believe Tech could have survived that fall. 

She dives back into the notes. There’s a moment of silence. She continues to read quietly, giving the men a change to exchange quiet glances, feeling better now that they might have someone like Tech, something familiar, who can help them find their family. They find comfort in the quiet as she continues to ponder his scribblings with a knitted brow for a few moments. 

Hunter breaks the silence. “I feel almost ashamed that none of us figured that out. He’s our brother. I guess we didn’t know him as well as we thought we did.” 

“It’s not your fault, Hunter. Same goes for you two,” she pats Echo and Wrecker. “Pain of loss can be blinding. You do know him well, but your own emotions got in the way. It helps to have an outside voice to help you see through the haze of emotions. Nothing wrong with asking for help. I’m  here to help in any way that I can.” 

Her attention shifts again, and she emerges from the datapad completely this time. The hand that clutches it falls to her lap as her eyes find Hunter’s, and he’s not surprised to find a new thought sparkling in them. 

“You said Hemlock gave you back his goggles, did he not?” 

“Yeah” Hunter’s hesitancy returned 

“Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt any of you lot, either. I just need more information about the incident itself” 

Hunter sighs. 

“Did his goggles still have the recording device on them?”

“How did you know about that? None of us told you about that” 

“He includes many screenshots and videos from them in his notes” 

“Right. Sorry” 

“It’s okay. Hesitancy to trust is natural after being sold out like that, I understand. But please know that I just want to help you find your brothers and sister, they seem like good people, and this Tech fellow is clearly brilliant!” 

Hunter produces the goggles, recording device still attached. 

Echo chimes in “I checked for a recording from it, but scans said there’s nothing on it” 

“No backups? You’re telling me a man like Tech didn’t have backups of everything in a secure format? Is this not his backup datapad full of his notes I’m holding? I’m guessing that somewhere on here is a backup copy he fashioned himself that the Empire wouldn't be able to tamper with, one with a hidden access port - something the Imperials wouldn't know to look for since to them devices like this are usually only remotely accessed” 

She gently detaches the recording device from the goggles and inspects it carefully. The men gather around her and watch her with baited breath. Clearly the Empire did not remove it from the goggles, as there is still a fair amount of dirt on the side that had been next to the band of the goggles. As she gently brushes the dirt off, her finger nail finds the edge of something. Tracing it out, she finds a rectangle in the rubbery casing around the recording device, and gently pops it open. 

“Bingo” she whispers, as though a loud noise will shatter the moment. 

“I think I’m starting to agree with you” Hunter whispers in her ear, quiet enough that only she can hear. 

She inspects the port the silicone hatch revealed “I don’t suppose any of you lot have seen a cable that might fit this lying around somewhere?” 

They sit quietly for a moment, well aware Tech left cables for all sorts of things scattered everywhere. Each contemplating the most likely spot for Tech to keep an important cable like this, before Echo pipes up “I’m betting he’d keep a spare in his spare kit!” 

Wrecker launches out of his makeshift seat to grab the kit, and hands it to Hunter. “You better look for it, I don’t think he’d like me rummaging through his stuff… might break something…” he trails off, clearly sad. 

She pat’s the big guy on the arm and he sits back down, a little closer this time. Seeking her warmth for comfort. 

“He clearly loved and still loves you very much Wreck, even if he has his own way of showing it” 

Wrecker smiles, “thanks Y/N” 

Hunter produces several cords from Tech’s pack and holds them out. “One of these look like it might fit?” 

“Yes!”

Echo reaches for the other end of the cable “what does the other end look like?” She let’s him inspect it while she attaches the one end to the recording device. 

“This one goes here,” he plugs it into the console they sit next to. “Let’s see what he got as…. Let’s see what trail he left for us” 

As the recording comes up on the bigger screen, they all gasp. Most of the contents of the recording are going to be a difficult mess to untangle, but one thing is clear: Tech is very much ALIVE!!!

(Part 2)

Please don't steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it!

[igotsnothing]

Chapter 3: The Visit

The phone's vibration jolted Finn out of the slumber he'd slipped into. He squinted in the dark at Jacob's text and grimaced: it was getting late and he'd gotten very little done around the camp. He'd started a second job on top of the landscaping gig, which only offered him work during the weekend; he'd taken on custodial duties at the Moonwood Mill Collaborative, a mix of maker studios and open air marketplace in a nicer part of town. It didn't pay that well, but the manager let him use the studio after hours. Finn had spent a large amount of time using the craft tables and learning how to operate the fabricator...Not always with the expected results.

The dumpster at the Collaborative had become a useful resource, as well. It held scrapped projects, discarded supplies, and even the occasional tool. He couldn't believe what people threw out.

Finn had mixed feelings about seeing Luna and Morgan again. They'd been friendly at school, but he had no idea if they would be as friendly to him once they saw how he was living.

"Finn!" Morgan Fyres cried out when she saw him. "Congratulations on getting out of that absolute hellhole of a school!"

"It's nice to see you again. You just disappeared; we were worried about you," Luna Villareal added softly.

Finn felt a pleasant blush course up his neck as he met her gaze.

They sat around the campfire as Finn fielded most of their questions.

"This is awesome," Morgan decided. "No one telling you what to do, where to be; you can do whatever you want..."

"It's not like I had much of a choice," Finn added, poking at the fire pensively.

"Do you miss being at school at all?" Luna wondered.

"Yes and no. I couldn't stay at home for another year. I just couldn't. And I can't support myself if I am at school full-time," he explained. "I don't miss the homework...but I kind of enjoyed some of my classes. And I do miss hanging out with everyone. Is everyone still T-posing in the halls?" He laughed.

"You should ask Morgan about posing!" Jacob provoked. "She pulled a little posing stunt during our yearbook pictures that landed her in detention..."

"That detention was a violation of my free speech rights, as the school is funded by taxpayers--"

"Prom is coming up soon. Do you want to go?" Luna interrupted. "You could come with me, if you'd like."

"Uh...Yeah! I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, actually. It would be fun to see everyone again before people take off for college." Finn smiled. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a drag, if you'd rather go with someone else." Finn felt his pulse quicken. He'd always found Luna really sweet and very pretty. He had no idea that she was interested--especially right then, when his life was such a craptacular mess.

"If I am asking you, it's because I'd like you to go with me, silly!" Luna laughed.

Everyone fell silent. Jacob pressed his lips together, suppressing a grin, and Morgan sat up, mildly alarmed.

"Ok, guys. My dad just texted. If you girls want a ride, we have to leave now."

"No problem." Luna stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Finn, give me your contact info so we can make plans."

Finn blinked at her slowly.

"Yeah--hang on."

Morgan just stared, in complete surprise.

Luna leaned in closer, peering at his phone.

"OH MY GOD! I have the same lock screen!" Luna cried out.

"No way! You like Holly Alto's art, too?" Finn couldn't believe it.

"Are you kidding? Did you see the latest pictures of her mural in San Myshuno? It's on Social Bunny."

Morgan's stomach sank as she watched the two of them.

"Oh, I have to send you pictures of her last exhibit here," Finn continued excitedly.

"I'd love that!" Luna smiled.

"She's giving a talk at the University of Britechester next week! Wanna come with?"

"Yes!" She giggled.

"Last stop!" Jacob pulled up to Morgan's driveway.

"Hey--does Finn have a thing for Luna?"

"I don't know that he's given it much thought, given everything that he's been through lately. Why?"

"They seem to be moving kind of fast, don't you think?"

Jacob shrugged.

"If they're interested in each other, what should they be waiting for?"

"Thanks for the ride." Morgan stepped out of the car.

"Night!"

💔

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[frontproofmedia]

CANELO VS. RYDER – SAN DIEGO PRESS CONFERENCE QUOTES AND IMAGES

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Published: March 19, 2023

 Mexican pound-for-pound king defends Undisputed Super-Middleweight title against Briton in Guadalajara, Mexico on May 6, live on DAZN and DAZN PPV

Canelo Alvarez “The press conference in Guadalajara was an unbelievable moment for me because I saw my grandma, my dad, my mom, my brothers, my family there. A lot of media guys I saw when I started boxing. For me, I feel very proud and happy to bring this fight to Guadalajara and give the people some of the experience I have in other places as the best in the world.”   “I think it’s the perfect time. A long time ago I wanted to fight in Guadalajara, but I think this is the perfect moment, the perfect fight to bring to Guadalajara.   “I’m so excited to show everybody they’re wrong. I feel very good. I have a lot of years in my career; 17 years as a pro. I’ve had injuries too. I’m not at my best but I’m very motivated and I’m very happy to be in the gym, to train at 100 per cent, and they’re going to see what is coming. I’m very excited and motivated. Be careful with that.   “He [Ryder] has everything to win, nothing to lose, right? He’s always there, fighting with the good fighters trying to get that opportunity, and now he got it. It’s going to be a danger for me, but I feel good.   “It will be one of the best moments in my career for sure. The fight with Billy Joe Saunders in Dallas was amazing, one of the most enjoyable fights I’ve ever been in. I think in Guadalajara it will be the same or even more.”   John Ryder “It’s a great opportunity that has not been gifted. I’ve worked hard at this for years. Like you said, I’ve suffered the highs, the lows, the bottom of the barrel, really. I’d like to take time to thank you, Saul and Eddie, for making this fight happen. Charlie, for working tirelessly back and forth with you to get the deal done. And three, it’s right what [Charlie Sims] said about my trainer Tony Sims, he can’t be here because of the schedule.    “We’re all in big fights and Tony’s been a rock in my career and someone that’s brought me back from the bottom and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, and I thank him for that. I also thank the family and friends, you, Charlie, for sticking by me and livening me up at times. Down to my mom and dad, my partner, and you know what, down to myself because if I give up on myself then I won’t be here. I’ve dug deep, I’ve done what I’ve had to do, I’ve worked hard to get back into this mandatory position, took the right fights at the right times, and I’m just really pleased to be here.   “Obviously the decision went against us in 2019, then the Covid times hit, which really messed everything up, but like you say, and I truly believe, timing is everything in this sport. It waits for no man, but the timing is right for me now.   “I’m not here for a holiday and I wouldn’t bring the team with me, have the team around me that I have if I didn’t believe I could win. I’m going, leaving no stone unturned, putting everything in this camp and truly believe I can come away victorious on May 6.”   Eddy Reynoso “I’m super happy, proud to go back to the place, the home that made Canelo the boxer that he is and made me the trainer that I am. We are going to come back with our hand raised. We’re not going to let down, we’re not going to retire. It won’t be an exhibition fight, we’re going to return with all four belts that he came with, and that’s something that we’re going to do with pride. We also just really want to put on a good show for the fans.”    “He had a great rehabilitation for his hand, and we’ve been working hard. He’s at 100% and this is going to be a huge 2023. He’s going to go up against lots of challenges this year in his career and we’re excited for what’s to come this year.”   “It’s going to be fantastic; it’ll be an entirely full stadium. There is a saying that ‘you aren’t always a prophet in your home’. Canelo will change that. He will be a prophet in his home, he will fill the stadium. I am very proud to return as winners outside of Mexico from all the fights we’ve had outside of Mexico, but we want to share it and we will share it with the people of Jalisco. We just hope the people enjoy having their champion home again.”   Eddie Hearn “Thank you for joining us here today at the incredible Petco Park, home of the Padres in San Diego. And thank you for the incredible team for letting us host a very special and important press conference here. The first thing I thought when I walked around here was, wow, we must do a Canelo Alvarez fight here in the Petco Park stadium. It would be incredible.    “But firstly, we have some very special business to take care of on May 6, Akron Stadium, Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico. Canelo Alvarez will defend his undisputed super middleweight world championship against John Ryder, live and exclusive on DAZN pay per view around the world, and we cannot wait. Sport is a business now, but this was something where business didn’t count. This was personal to Saul Alvarez and Eddy Reynoso. This was from the heart. This was an opportunity to bring an event back to his people. Regardless of the money, regardless of everything else, it was an opportunity to celebrate the sport, to celebrate his career in front of what will be 50,000 people in Guadalajara on May the 6th, Cinco de Mayo weekend. An event, an atmosphere that I believe you will not witness again in boxing.    “The whole world will be watching as he defends his Undisputed Super-Middleweight world championship against this man, John Ryder, someone that we’ve worked with for over a decade. He’s paid his dues in the sport. He’s had his ups and his downs and now he’s on a big up. Victories over Danny Jacobs and Zach Parker made him the mandatory challenger, the interim world champion, and someone that will come to Guadalajara with every intention to win. With a big heart, with lots of strength, and a chance to make history for Great Britain and become the Undisputed Super-Middleweight champion of the world.    “But in front of him, the biggest star in the sport of boxing, Saul Canelo Alvarez. The undisputed champion, someone that we’ve worked with for a long time, and I have seen fearless to challenges. There’s a lot of opinion in boxing, and what I see from Canelo and from Eddy Reynoso is a pure competitor. A winner, a legend of the sport, that he’s prepared to take on anybody. His last four fights have been unifying against Billy Joe Saunders, undisputed against Caleb Plant, stepping up in a fight that many say he shouldn’t have taken against Dimitri Bivol, and then Gennady Golovkin. The best resume in the sport of boxing, but now coming back off injury, still with a point to prove to some people, crazily, against a man that’s there to win it all on May 6. This is going to be a tremendous fight, a tremendous card, and I think that people here and particularly in Guadalajara should be very proud of Saul Canelo Alvarez and Eddy Reynoso for bringing this event to the people on May 6th live on DAZN. It's going to be incredible.   Charlie Sims (manager of Ryder, and son of Ryder’s longtime trainer Tony Sims) “It’s been a great experience doing this press tour. We had the pleasure of going to the stadium, look at the stadium, imagine the ring in the middle of the stadium, and what 50,000 are going to look like. It’s been great to spend some quality time with John as well just on this trip. One person I want to take this opportunity to thank who couldn’t be here because the schedules clashed was Tony Sims.    “Tony Sims is a trainer with John Ryder, he’s dedicated years and years to the sport and years and years of developing John into the fighter he is today. They’ve been through all the lows together and now this is the pinnacle. He’s going to face the best in the division, the undisputed champion, Canelo Alvarez. I just want to take this opportunity again to thank everybody for making this event happen, but undoubtedly, we wouldn’t be here, me and John wouldn’t be here without Tony today, so I just want to take that opportunity to say thank you to him. And no doubt he is going to be extremely excited and extremely proud, come May 6 to face Canelo in the ring. He’s one of the best.” An announcement on ticket sale dates will be made soon.

(Featured Photo: Melina Pizano)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

“It's fine if you want to take me or whatever just let me grab my stuff.”  | Yandere Villain Deku

The villain stood in shocked silence as you moved about the little apartment packing away your things. He had been frequenting your place since he had arrived in (y/c) just a way to mess with your mind before ultimately burning the entire apartment building. But even after seeing him and his minions lounging around your room you just shrugged before going on with your life. The only time you ever spoke up outright was when one of his compatriots ate the last of your ice cream. 

“You ate it all?”

You were more tired than normal not even giving the usual ‘I’m home’ before heading straight for the fridge. At that moment his minion walked out with an empty carton in hand with the remnants around his mouth. That was the first time you exhibited any ounce of violence before and while it certainly wasn’t anywhere near Deku’s methods, he still found it intriguing how easily you threatened him to get more ice cream or else you’d castrate him. 

Since then everything you did enamored him, accepting money he most definitely stole to pay for meals. Even cook bigger meals when he supplied the means or indulging in your hobbies more often. Passionately gushing to him when he asked a simple question. 

“Sorry about that, I usually don’t talk to a lot of people about the stuff I like…no one’s ever interested.”

The villain found himself fighting thoughts of you away as he demolished the top heroes of your country. ‘I wonder if they’d like a cake from this bakery, of course before I destroy it.’ And as the days dwindle closer to the date he planned to leave (y/c), he decided he would take you. He originally told his minions to let him go alone this time because he wanted this to be intimate. After all, it's the last time you two would ever be apart for so long! Armed with a single syringe of a sleeping dose, he expected you to refute, but of course you surprised him again and you willingly are packing your stuff. He’ll text his buddies to bring the airship (yes, he has one) even closer to move all your stuff. 

“But this armoire has been through a lot with me!”

“I know Dolly but it's just too big…same goes for that potrait.”

“No but he’s my favorite character from–”

“It’s awfully rude of you to hold onto a slither of your past flings especially in front of your new husband!”

“Uuuugh fine I’m taking these posters then.”

You come so willingly Deku is on cloud 9 for the rest of the week you just moved right in when he stuck you in his fancy lair

The only time he ever saw any hesitation from you is when he dances along the line of your autonomy.

“Hey uh Izu?”

“Yes, Dollface?”

“Do you know where the knives are? I’m trying to make something for lunch.”

Hearing the underlying tones of frustration in your voice the villain abandoned his paperwork to properly handle this. You weren’t a secret powerhouse but your typical lack of response gave such an impression. Deserving his full attention he came up behind you holding you by your waist as you dug through various drawers and cabinets. 

He was intent on handling this…fixation of yours. Call it a small experiment but he wanted to see how much he could have of you. How much he could get away with someone as agreeable as you. He wanted to own all of you and your will was something he would have had no qualms trampling but this was you. It was your will that intrigued him so much in the first place. So he decided he’d be lenient especially as your worried questioning dissolves into a scowl as he answers your question. 

“I’ve taken all the knives away. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself on something so sharp.”

A tingle of excitement came as you took up that threatening stance, glaring at him as you made your case.

“Too sharp!? I’ve been using knives for this long. I don't need you to get in the way.”

“In the way of what baby doll?”

He tries to simply ask but it comes out as mocking. He just couldn’t help it, you were so agreeable he always wondered what cute faces you’d make if you rebelled against him. It was almost worth instigating your first fight with him. 

“Of my cooking. Of my food. I don’t really care about much else but this is mine.” 

“...”

His jealousy spiked, for an activity no less. It made him want to withhold it from you even longer but your unwillingness to back down would make things harder for him. So he sighed, summoning some tears as he clutched onto you. Tucking his head into your neck as he whined.

“Awww but Baby I only want you to be safe! That’s why I brought you here, won't you trust me?”

“I’ll trust you when you trust me!” 

“But I do trust you, Love. Won’t you indulge me a little.” 

He tried to sweeten the offer by planting kisses on all of your exposed skin. Holding him away with a single hand you glared at him down.

“I’ll indulge you if you cut up the stuff I want with your dagger you like so much.”

He had to calm the demonic smile that threatened to stretch across his face. So eager, so final. Perhaps in another world you would have been the hero. He would live through a constant game of cat and mouse. But this was reality and he knew that he’d rather drink in your domestic agreeability before picking this fight with you. Letting you reach into his vest jacket before guiding his hand along he relished in your presence. 

“Oh, (Y/n)-doll. Only you could do this to me! Just keep letting me in okay?! I doubt you’d like me if you didn’t.”

[luveline]

Only if you feel up to it, shy reader x Eddie fluff. I adore your fluff so much, and your writing is just amazing. Thank you for all the content you give us, you're a blessing <3

thank u!!! secret hand holding for you ♡ shy!fem!reader | 0.6k words

The TV plays an old movie. Your friends – though they've slowly become Eddie's, too – are all enraptured. Nothing like a cult classic to get some peace and quiet. 

Eddie's hosting so he gets to sit on the sofa. You're his best girl, so you sit there too with Dustin (Eddie's second favourite) on your other side. 

You haven't been paying any attention to the TV, your eyes on Eddie. He can feel you watching him but won't embarrass you, pretending he hasn't noticed as your eyes burn a hole in his head.

He can almost feel how much you want to speak. There's something you want to say, some reason you're not interested in the TV. But he doesn't have a clue what it might be. 

He chances a glance at you. You don't see, your eyes busy at the apex of his thighs. He's about a split second from blushing when he realises you're looking higher where his hands rest. He pauses where he's been twisting his ring and hurries to start again. 

It's too late. You notice his stuttering movements and your eyes flinch to his face. Caught red-handed, he smiles. Couch springs ding underneath you as you turn back to the screen, a guilty grimace on your lips that you've almost suppressed. Almost. 

Eddie notices everything about you. The way your own hands worry at the other, your fingers pushing cruelly into your own knuckles. Your palms rub together. 

You hate public displays of affection. No matter how much you like to be touched in private, and you like it a lot, you can't bring yourself to enact any affection around others. Eddie would never force you, but he can tell how badly you want to touch him now. Hold his hand in both of yours and twist his ring, absentmindedly. 

He brings his thighs up onto the couch and curls up tight into a ball so there's a gap between the cushion and his back. You look at him from your peripherals and go through the same mortification at being caught wanting as you had before. 

Eddie would happily pull you into his side. None of your friends would care. 

But it's not what you need. You need something quiet, a tether, and he wants to give it to you. 

He drops his hand behind his back. 

"Babe," he murmurs. 

If anyone else hears it they ignore him. You turn to him, curious and guilty and very, very cute. 

"Everything good?" he mouths.

You nod, small but voracious. 

He shakes his hand behind his back to gather your attention. 

You stare. 

"Baby," he murmurs encouragingly. 

You look around the room and it's so endearing and kind of chest-hurting to see you exhibit as much caution as you do. 

"Someone will see," you say. 

He wants to say, No one will care. And if they do, we won't. But you do care. Eddie's been less embarrassed with his pants around his ankles than you are right now, leaning towards him just enough that your hand brushes his. 

"They won't," he assures you.

He strokes the length of your palm with his pinky finger and looks back at the TV. On screen, corn syrup blood mars the hair of a pretty boy, his eye a mess of purple-yellow bruises. 

Your hand shakes as you slide your fingers between his, a characteristic hesitation. He waits until he thinks you're comfortable before squeezing tight, rewarded by your tiny little gasping sound that always has him fighting a smile. 

You squeeze back. Not nearly as hard as he had, but enough. He wants more than anything to pull your hand to his mouth and kiss your fingers, but, looking at your happy face, he decides that can wait for later. 

[amorgansgal]

Hey! Hope all is well. I was wondering if you can do a sanario where the reader(fem) and Arthur go to Charles Chatenay's art exhibit and reader has portrait of her nude (surprising Arthur). Based off the mission 'The Artist's Way part 3'. Maybe it can go into a smut situation after. Lol thank you!

Hello! All is indeed well :) Hope everything is well with you too! I had actually thought about this scenario previously and how Arthur would react. I've decided to do this as an Arthur realising he has a crush on the reader, rather than smut, but I hope you enjoy!

‘That’s my husband!’

‘That’s my wife!’

‘That’s my mother, you cad!’

Arthur was in the middle of chaos, handbags were flying, fists whirling, hats sailing through the air as people punched and kicked anyone near them. He was laughing at the madness of the once civilised and calm room that had erupted into shouts, yells and screams. A loud groaning crash and smashing of glass from the other room told him someone had fallen against the table, which had bottles of champagne and finely crafted crystal glasses. It was insanity and he had better find Charles Châtenay before the man was pummelled to death or arrested!

He headed into another room off the main hall, where he had seen Charles run off into and was about to follow the stairs down, when he had to take another look at a painting he passed. He slammed to a halt and stared at the portrait of you. Before he realised what the hell he was doing and quickly looked away. What on earth…? How did…? Why were you naked?

Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was just a model who looked very much like you. He would just check, just make sure it was someone else. It had to be. Why would you model for Châtenay? When would you have done so? Why would you have done so?

He very deliberately looked up and focused on the face, rather than anywhere else. He swallowed thickly. There was no mistaking it, that was you. Your eyes had that same challenging, fierce look he had seen both at robberies or when teasing him in camp or when trying to win at dominos when you played with Hosea. The corner of your lips quirked upwards, all too ready to relax into a full smile, but still cautious, just a small hint of wickedness. Arthur’s eyes drifted lower to your neck, shoulders and the hollow of your throat. His cheeks flamed pink and he focused his attention back on the floor. Had your skin always looked like that? Did it have that soft, warm glow about it, or was that part of the painting?

The door crashed open and Arthur jumped, ready to swing a punch if needed. But it was only Charles Châtenay.

‘Ah! My friend, so glad I could find you! Come, let us go, these mad animals do not appreciate my art!’ Châtenay grabbed hold of his sleeve, but Arthur stayed where he was and pointed with his finger to the painting on the wall, but avoided looking at it.

‘What the hell? When did you paint… that? Her?’

‘Oh that? She is a beaut, no? So rare for a woman to not look ashamed or hide herself away. I tell you, you get me out of this mess with my wonderful face intact, you can have that one. I do think it is one of my best, no?’

‘NO!’ Arthur yelled, then calmed himself. ‘I know her. She’s my…’ Arthur blushed further, what the hell were you to him. He could hardly say just a friend. But he had no claim over you.

‘Ahh, you Americans, always making things needlessly complicated! Come on, we talk later!’ Châtenay insisted, trying to move down the stairs, but with Arthur’s tight grip on his arm finding that difficult.

‘Why did you paint her?’ he growled.

‘Because she was pretty and there in my studio and because I had paints to do so. What do you want from me?’

‘And yer couldn’t do that with her clothes on?’

‘I asked her politely. I would not force those who did not want to. She agreed. If you know her, why not ask her yourself? Now come on!’

Arthur took another glance at the painting and then immediately felt guilty for doing so. He focused his attention on the stairs and hurried down after the mad bastard of a painter! Once they had snuck out the back door and made their way through a maze of alleys and passages, Châtenay thanked Arthur for his help and disappeared into a house.

Arthur stepped away from the building and returned to the main thoroughfare of the street. He took a moment to catch his breath and leaned against a wall. He wiped away the humidity of Saint Denis from his neck and tried his best not to think about the way your skin had gleamed, as though you were standing in a forest and the late afternoon sun was turning everything about you to gold. He rubbed his hand furiously over his face and pinched his nose. He needed a drink, a good strong one, needed to get your bold eyes and wicked, small smile from his mind.

~~~

Something was up. Something was definitely off. Arthur was acting very strangely. He either spent his time gazing over your head or staring down at his boots. You weren’t quite sure what you had done to… offend the man? You could only assume that he was offended in some way, though you couldn’t think of any occasion which would warrant that!

It didn’t really help that everyone else seemed to have noticed his odd behaviour. You had heard from Mary-Beth that Hosea had approached Arthur quietly about it, saying he was acting peculiarly. But Arthur had apparently changed the subject and then immediately galloped off on his horse. He had been gone for several days, though no one could say when he would be back or if he was even out on a job.

You had been keeping an eye on the entrance to camp, waiting to catch him before he had the chance to hurry off elsewhere and avoid you again. You had wondered if you could avoid talking to him, but with everyone else making comments and coming up with their own theories as to what crime you had committed, you thought it would be best to deal with the issue… Whatever it was!

You were slightly worried he might sneak back into camp during the dead of night and then head out again come early morning. But you were banking on him relying on the fact that usually you would be sat with the other women. Fortunately, today you were helping Pearson chop vegetables and so could keep an eye on the path that led into Shady Belle.

You were just sharpening the dull knife Pearson had given you, when you heard hooves on the ground and looked up to see Arthur ride in. You didn’t even bother to remove the apron you were wearing and just tossed the knife to one side on the board. You hurried up the path and immediately saw Arthur’s look of utter panic at your approach.

‘Arthur!’ you called out, before he could pretend to have not seen or heard you!

‘I… uh… Miss Y/N, sorry I really got to speak to Dutch, I can’t-’

‘Oh no you don’t!’ you said, grabbing hold of his sleeve. ‘I need to speak to you urgently.’

‘But I got to-’

‘You can give me five minutes of your time, then speak to Dutch.’

He looked down at his boots, twisting his heel into the mud and grass, putting you in mind of a naughty schoolboy who’s got caught cheating or stolen a cookie. His cheeks were a dull pink and he avoided your eye, keeping his head lowered so the brim of his hat covered his face.

‘Arthur, please. Everyone in camp is trying to guess why I’ve pissed you off and I want to know what it is I’ve done to annoy you!’

‘What?’ he almost staggered back and stared at you in confusion. Christ, he hadn’t thought he was being subtle, had he?

‘Well, you’ve been avoiding me, not talking to me properly or even wanting to look at me. It’s only fair to assume I’ve done something.’

‘You ain’t done anythin’.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Then why are you treating me differently to how you would normally?’

‘I ain’t been treatin’ you differently.’

‘Arthur!’

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, casting a quick glance towards the house, as though debating whether he could try to run to the safety of his room without you tackling him! He let out a small groan, then rubbed the bridge of his nose and forehead.

‘Look, it weren’t my fault… I had no idea, alrigh’?’

‘What wasn’t your fault?’ you asked suspiciously.

‘I met this strange French man in a saloon, we got drinking and talking, and he invited me to his art show-’

You felt your cheeks flush immediately and your stomach lurched uncomfortably as you realised all too quickly who Arthur had met and what he might have seen. ‘Oh God…!’ you whispered.

Arthur had seen you naked, completely stark naked. You had been banking on no one from the Van Der Linde gang visiting an art show of all things! Molly maybe, but she spent most of her days upstairs, crying pathetically and being ignored by everyone else. Dutch would’ve gone if there was someone to impress, but you doubted he would bother with everything else going on.

‘EXACTLY!’ Arthur yelled, then quietened his voice as Charles and Javier looked his way from where they had been sat by the campfire. ‘But more importantly, why the hell were you… doin’ somethin’ like that?’

‘I just… Look it was good money and all I had to do was stand still-’

‘Without yer clothes on!’ Arthur hissed. You were tempted to laugh, he sounded like a scandalised spinster aunt, rather than a rough outlaw who robbed banks and trains for a living! ‘If yer needed money why didn’ you ask to come on-?’

‘Look Arthur, I just wanted to do something myself without having to shoot people. It was quick, easy money and I didn’t think you’d go to an art show!’

‘Well, I did! Turned into a complete riot and then I come face to face with yer…’ the blush on his cheeks darkened and he gestured towards your chest.

You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you. ‘Not really face to face, face to chest.’

Arthur scowled. ‘Oh sure, I’m sure you think it’s very funny! But how am I meant to not think about…’ His eyes suddenly widened. ‘Not that I do think about it. I don’, tha’s why I’ve been avoidin’ yer.’

You sighed. ‘You can’t avoid me forever, Arthur. I knew people were going to see the painting, just was banking on maybe everyone else here not seeing it. And what sense does it make that you’re more offended by me being painted entirely naked, than me murdering people?’

‘I ain’t offended… jus’ was a bit shocked, tha’s all.’

‘Ok, well can we just forget that it happened and carry on like normal?’

His gaze was back on his boots and he briefly lifted his hand once more to scratch his neck, but you caught it and managed to lift his chin so he would look at you. His eyes widened once more and you saw how his breath caught in his throat.

‘Please Arthur?’ you asked.

‘Sure,’ he quickly muttered.

‘Good.’ You dropped his hand and stepped back, though he seemed frozen to the spot. You weren’t sure what else you could say or do. ‘Dinner will be ready soon,’ you called over your shoulder as Arthur stayed where he was.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi, reading your posts made me realize I’m likely an INFJ in a terrible loop. For the last 6 months i’ve been reading about mbti I thought I was INTJ, and every test i tried said it too, but i didnt and still don’t understand Fe vs Te, even after reading your posts. But INFJ in a loop sounds a lot like me. So let’s go with that.

My auxiliary function is suffering. When I’m outside I have this tendency to observe people, the room, their behavior and enjoy dwelling in it, as if I’m reading a novel. It bothers me when someone says or acts rude, when a man bothers a woman like a creep.

In my head i’m so criticizing of other people. And if i’m not criticizing, im acting as if i can read everything about another person. I know this sounds horrible and very narcissistic, but i want to be honest to fix myself. And I know i’m doing this overthinking in social situations to defend myself by acting as if im superior.

But i just observe, i never interact. I havent talked to a single person in my class in university, since im a few years older (24 in a room of 21yo people). Even though i know if i want to socialize thats the right place. I start thinking: if i talk to them, they will get to know me, they will find that i failed or that i dont have a lot of my shit together, and then i will be judged. So why bother. And i know that its so flimsy and stupid. I only made one friend in my old uni before changing courses.

This is not only at university btw. I dont go out in the evenings, or try to meet new people, because i literally have no fucking idea of how to do it without looking like a misfit. My old friends are all very distant now, and while I know many people everything I never really dated, and while i have this insane void of emotional intimacy, i keep rationalising every attempt of experiencing life. I live in a shell.

And the fact i haven’t dated and i’m 24, is so scary. I’m not even ugly or that uninteresting or without hobbies, because people told me the opposite many times, but i dont know why i cant come out of my shell. This is not only about dating, but in general. Im always distant emotionally and end up thinking about it instead of living it. Because im a grown man scared of being judged for my smiles,tears and my love.

I think i have some trauma issues from my teens, when i talked to a girl on facebook for 2 years listening to her problems because i liked her, without ever approaching her irl (because i was a scared teenager idk why). It was a one way thing. I was basically her diary in human form. When i told her my feelings it was too late. After that i ended in a 1 yr depression, and it definitely marked me as a person. I never really opened myself emotionally with anyone else after. Maybe this is not even trauma, it actually feels demeaning to call it as such when other people have suffered more.

This post is a mess. Maybe im just overthinking, and you’ll probably read this and think i need therapy and/or im mistyped . But I really want to break these chains, and hearing an insight from someone who understand people very well could help.

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

If I understand correctly, the main problem is you are closed off and unable to open up. It sounds like you are very afraid of socializing, most likely because you are afraid of being hurt by other people's negative judgments of you (it is a common problem related to unhealthy Fe). There are several factors that may be contributing to this problem:

- Low Self-Worth: You exhibit oversensitivity that arises from using other people's judgments to define your identity and/or determine your personal worth. If you're always worried about how you're being perceived, then you will of course feel anxious about interacting with anyone you're unsure about. This makes it very difficult to meet new people and expand your social circle.

- "Mindreading": You presume to know what others think, without any evidence, easily jumping straight to the worst case scenario. This is a defense mechanism that gives you a false sense of control, as though you're preparing yourself for the worst to happen. As such, you manage to talk yourself out of socializing, losing every opportunity to learn and grow socially.

- Unresolved Past: You've had negative relationship experiences in the past. When you don't resolve negative feelings, learn the right lessons from them, and consciously put the past behind you, you will take the past and project it into the future, expecting it to happen again. This means you are out of touch with reality because you never treat people as NEW people and give them the benefit of the doubt. You assume that people are out to hurt you and you build walls of protection, which conveniently prevents anyone from knowing you and getting close enough to want a relationship with you.

- Lack of Social Skills: It's hard to feel confident when you're incompetent. Even if you were to work up the courage to meet new people, it sounds like you would still lack the skills required to develop the relationship. Immature INFJs often suffer in relationships because of unrealistic ideas and/or unreasonable expectations, which is often related to faulty reasoning patterns (Ti loop). Social skills are called "skills" because anyone can learn and improve them. If you care about being a better version of yourself, you have to be honest about your deficits and apply yourself to learn the knowledge and skills that you need to move forward in life. See the recommended books on the resources page.

While it's possible to work on these issues on your own, it's the more difficult path to take. When you have a serious problem like social anxiety that prevents you from living the life you hope to live, then, yes, it is best to reach out for professional expertise and assistance. People aren't born knowing everything, so everyone needs help at some point and there is no shame in getting it. As long as you keep trying to convince yourself that your needs don't matter or that your problems aren't as serious or serious enough to warrant attention, you will continue to dig your own grave of unhappiness. How long do you want to go through life with these problems weighing you down and holding you back?

[erwinsvow]

𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

summary: zeke knows it’s wrong. you know it’s wrong. yet something always brings you back to your step-dad when your mom’s not around.

warnings: step-cest, manipulation, infidelity, mommy issues, zeke is the devil incarnate and reader is an angel (figuratively.. for now), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, creampie, you've been warned!

author's note: lord knows how long i've been thinking about this one. zeke fuckers, this one is for you. tagging @colossalnova ! hope everyone likes it!

“It must be so nice to have such a good daughter to take care of you,” Mr. Ksaver comments without a second thought, as you head towards the kitchen to get two cups of coffee for Zeke and his friend. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile as soon as you hear the words, delighted with the praise from someone so close to your step-father.

Zeke makes an effort to hide the smirk that comes to him so naturally, because if only Mr. Ksaver knew just how good of a daughter you were for him. But that’s a conversation for another day, he finally decides, turning back to his guest with a smile.

“Step-daughter,” he corrects with the most genuine look he can muster. He could fool a priest with that aura of ingenuity that he gives off without any effort, because after all, that’s how he had gotten you into this position in the first place.

Mr. Ksaver beams back at him, his close friend still completely in the dark.

“Oh, of course, but you two could fool anyone. Say, where’s your wife? I haven’t seen her in a while..” Tom trails off, and Zeke is glad for it. He doesn’t like talking about your mother, his new wife, if he can help it. Business trips and commitments at the salon kept much of her time occupied, leaving only brief interactions with you two, her so-called family. It didn’t take long for him to realize she had been this way most of your life, an absent parental figure since the departure of your father. As cruel as it was, he could easily see why you were the way you were.

Zeke thought you were a lot of things. Pretty was at the top of the list, along with innocent and insecure, but the biggest quality he could see in you, the one that just screamed out at him ever since that first time he had laid eyes on you, was people-pleaser.

It was so apparent in everything you did, from the modest way you dressed to the try-hard behavior you exhibited with teachers and your friends’ parents. He recognized quickly it was because your mother didn’t acknowledge any of it, not the dinners you made for the three of you or the sweet, thoughtful gifts and flowers on special occasions.

It was actually on Mother’s Day the previous year when he had been able to get you alone for the first time. The then-new Mrs. Yeager had booked a full day at the spa as a treat for herself, even though she barely had an ounce of motherly qualities in her body. She had tossed aside the bouquet you had gifted her with, skimmed the card with your sweet, handwritten note, and rolled her eyes at your own watery ones after seeing just how little she cared about this holiday that was meant for you both to celebrate.

After she had left, Zeke had knocked on your door tentatively. It was wrong of him to be as gleeful as he was on the inside, but he’d been waiting for a moment like this for the last several months. He even let twenty minutes pass before coming up to your room to make sure he would get you teary-eyed and upset, just how he wanted.

Any other girl might have told her new step-father to fuck right off, given that he had done nothing to defend you or ask your mother to be kinder towards you, but not you. Ever the people-pleaser, you wiped away your tears with the sleeves of the cardigan you’d been wearing all day, fixed yourself from the position you had been in while weeping on your bed, and told him to come in.

Zeke was fucked the minute he saw you sitting there, dressed purely like an angel in a sundress that had ridden up in your distress and with tear-lidden eyelashes blinking slowly at him. The redness of your nose and cheeks, mixed with how your hair was just a little messed up and your hiccuping whimpers painted an entirely different picture for him. At first, it had just been a game, just to see how long it would take him to seduce his new wife’s daughter, but now it was something else altogether.

But it’s the first sentence you say to him, alone in the house without your wretched mother for the first time, that breaks him.

“S-Sorry Zeke. I didn’t want to eat after that, but I can go get everything ready again for you.” For him. Your mother’s cold behavior had you crying your eyes out before noon, and yet you were still concerned about the lunch you had prepared and if he wanted to eat.

It made his heart burn in a lecherous way, with thoughts in his head about why he hadn’t married you instead of her.

“That’s okay, honey, don’t worry about me. I came to check up on you.” He’s holding up the facade well, he thinks, closing the door gently behind him and hearing the click of the latch. He’s only been in your room a handful of times, and for most of those occasions, you hadn’t been there, so he couldn’t act too comfortable. His eyes roamed around the space, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume that lingered on every object and shoving his hands into his pockets to seem as unassuming as possible.

You wipe away a stray tear, blinking quickly and looking back at him with big eyes. Damn your eyes, honestly, because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against them, especially when they’re so watery like that.

“Check up on me?” you let out in a soft voice. It’s adorable, honestly, how you think your new step-father would be just like your mother and not care about you at all. You’re not used to this kind of affection from anyone besides your friends from school, and even they don’t know about the reality of your home life. You don’t know what it’s like to have a parent check up on you, to have them want to make sure you’re okay, and suddenly you can feel your face burning with heat at the realization that you and Zeke are all alone in your bedroom.

Zeke is handsome according to anyone’s standards, but for some reason, you can never tear your eyes away from him when he doesn’t know you’re looking. He’s old enough to be your father—your real father, that is—but that doesn’t stop you. You always find yourself staring at his golden locks that shine especially bright when he’s in the sun after his daily run, when you’re watering your garden and your mother isn’t home from work yet. Or when he’s just left the shower and every part of his body is dripping wet, walking back to his bedroom and you catch a glimpse through your open door.

It’s easy to think of him as off-limits, though, since you would never hurt your mother like that. She doesn’t show you affection, or care about you like how your friends’ mothers care for them, but she’s still your mom. Nothing would ever justify betraying her like this, by having these illicit thoughts about your step-father. So you make sure you stop staring, avoid being alone with him as much as you can and create excuses to get out of spending time with him, but you don’t think any of that is really working.

Because now, with Zeke in your bedroom and the sleeves of your cardigan wet with far too many tears, you don’t really care if this is wrong. All you care about is how Zeke is inching closer to your bed with every step.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you were okay after all that. It’s not easy, I know,” he says in such a soothing tone that you feel yourself getting lost in the daze of it.

“You know?” you question again, wondering if Zeke could really relate to you. You had always felt like such an outcast, the poor girl nobody loved or wanted, without any love in her life at all.

“Uh-huh, I know. I really hate that your mother won’t treat you better, but you know her, she’s not gonna change,” he watches your nodding face and resigned expression. “Can I-?” he motions to the space next to you on the bed.

“Oh, sure, please,” you say quickly, moving yourself over a bit and making room for him, dress exposing even more of the soft skin of your legs now. He tries not to stare, and every part of him wants to put a hand on your thigh and stroke softly, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. Not yet. He’ll take his time.

“Thank you for saying that.” Your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

“Of course. I mean, you are my daughter now, aren’t you?” He’s pushing his luck, but oh well. “I guess… it’s sort of my responsibility to take care of you, right?”

He sees your eyes widen a little, probably a million thoughts running through your little head. You’re so used to being alone, not having anyone’s affection, that a few simple words from Zeke have you fucked. Probably feeling the same way he is in this moment, eager and affectionate and ready. You find yourself nodding at his sweet words.

Any other day, you might have doubted the sincerity of what he was feeding you, but your mind was already a little fuzzy from the interaction with your mother. You still don’t know why you had gotten your hopes up so much, when it always led to disappointment in the end. You wish you could go back and warn yourself not to expect so much from your mother, who was almost as absent a parental figure as your father.

In that moment, Zeke’s kind words and welcoming arms didn’t seem so bad. You could only imagine that he felt the same way you did, as you doubted your mother was being a good wife to him from the interactions you observed.

“I…” you begin, but trail off when you notice the way Zeke’s eyes are looking at you. You almost instinctively lean back and away from him, like a lamb avoiding a predator, when you focus on how he’s much too close to you.

You’re entirely overwhelmed by his piercing, concerned gaze and the uncomfortable heat you feel between your thighs—your throat runs dry and you know it’s not from the crying. You think he must notice it too, with the way he leans forward, one more movement from him and you���d be trapped between Zeke’s broad figure and your bed.

He supposes that was the make-or-break moment in this little dalliance between you two. In that moment, had you been uncertain or asked him to leave, he would have listened to you and likely never bothered you again. All the same, he knew you wouldn’t.

You look back fondly on that Mother’s Day, the day you gave yourself over to Zeke without the slightest bit of regret. Your mother had returned home later that night, with nails and hair freshly done, acting as though there could have been no better way to spend Mother’s Day. She walked right past you sitting on the couch with Zeke, ignoring his tousled hair and your swollen lips.

Since then, it had been a fun sort of game. You felt guilty, of course, but nothing could compare to the thrill of the secret you had with Zeke, just for you two and no one else. He was more adventurous than you, always sneaking kisses and lingering touches when your mother was just a room away, fucking you roughly with a hand clasped over your mouth while she was on a conference call in her office down the hall.

Over time, you felt yourself becoming adventurous too. You had never done anything like this before, anything remotely bad or wrong, and it was safe to say that you were sinking further and further into the pit of corruption that Zeke had created.

Which is how you ended up here today.

You brought back two steaming cups of coffee on a platter to the living room, setting them down and mixing in cream and sugar for Zeke’s. You hand the cup to him with a sweet smile, and he takes a sip contentedly.

“Just perfect, like always.” The praise makes you smile widely, cheeks feeling warm despite the fact that you had a guest.

“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Ksaver?” you ask politely, as the elderly man laughs and takes the cup into his hand.

“Just plain black, thank you. I never had a taste for sweet things, like Zeke does.” If only he knew.

You smile again and bid goodbye, taking the tray with you as you leave and heading back to your room. You knew Zeke would be up as soon as he was done, since your mother was still out and you had precious time together, all alone.

As soon as you heard the front door close, and the sound of ignition starting from outside your window, you were alert. You could hear Zeke’s footsteps coming up the staircase, eagerly anticipating him this time.

He doesn’t knock anymore, letting himself in and closing the door gently behind him, as always. You hear the lock click quietly.

“Daddy,” you mumble from your place on your bed. You’re lying against the pillows now, fully on display for him in his favorite dress and already wet at the thought of what he would do to you once he got you alone.

“Yes, honey?” He says, in a tone that’s sincere and mocking at the same time. He’s still by the door, not coming in further like you want him to. He wants you to use your words.

“You said once we were alone..”

“Once we were alone, what? That I’d play with you?” You nod dumbly at his words. He inches closer to you, but still entirely too far away for your liking.

“I want you, Daddy. We only have a little bit before she gets back,” and you know you’re in for it now.

“Oh, is that so? We only have a little time?” Before you can process it, Zeke is hovering above you, a firm hand on your wetness teasing you and making you cry out at the sudden pressure. His hand moves slowly, just barely grazing your clothed clit and you whimper. “Let me tell you something, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear. “I’ll take as much time with you as I want, no matter who else is in this house. You got that?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words, knowing the effect they have on you and the uncomfortable wetness between your legs becoming even more prominent. You could swear that he can see how wet you are, even with your panties still on, and you desperately jerk up onto his hand to get some, any, contact.

“D-daddy, please! I-” you break off into another moan as he rubs your clit firmly. You’re not even sure when he took your panties off, but you can feel two of his fingers prodding at your slit, just waiting as he continues his work.

“Does that feel good, baby? Use your words,” he says, teasing you despite how badly you want him to stop and just be inside you already. Another strange feeling bubbles in your chest, knowing that your mother would be home soon and could be pulling into the driveway right now. You can hardly focus on those thoughts though, letting out a loud squeal when Zeke pushes two fingers into your soaking wetness, stopping at his knuckles.

“Oh god, Daddy, that feels so good, please, please keep going-” the rest of your words disappear as he pushes his thick fingers completely in, marveling at the way you’re so stretched out around them.

“Good girl, baby, you’re doing so well.” You keen at the praise, moaning loudly as he continues fingering you, scissoring his digits inside you and getting you prepared for his cock. He knows he’s on a time limit too, but he’ll be damned if he lets that rush him. No, he needs to take his time with you.

Every time he feels the tightness of your hole, it takes him back to that first time, and he refuses to hurry up.

His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out quickly, filling the room with a lewd squelching noise, have you seeing stars before long. Every time Zeke touches you, you wonder how you went so long without it. Your own actions when you touch yourself are nothing compared to his anymore. He’s got you so dependent on him, so reliant that you barely want to cum by yourself anymore.

He slows his actions just for a second, just to pull down the front of your sundress and reveal your tits to him. Zeke increases his speed as he latches his mouth around your hardening nipple, flicking with his tongue and taking the pebbled bud between his teeth, tugging slightly and making you cry out as it suddenly becomes too much to handle.

You’re succumbing to the orgasm before you even know it, waves of pleasure washing over your body as the knot in your stomach finally releases and fills your core with heat.

“Good girl, baby, cum for Daddy now,” he says from his place on your chest.

“Daddy! Daddy, I-! Oh!” You know how pathetic you must sound, screaming and moaning helplessly as Zeke doesn’t let up on his actions. You finally put your hand on top of his and make him look up, into your eyes, and press his lips to yours.

A sloppy, hot kiss in the aftermath of your orgasm has you shaking under his grip, entire body feeling hot and sweaty. He pushes his fingers, slick with your wetness, to your lips and you open without any request for him, sucking and rolling your tongue over the digits until they’re all clean.

“Good girl,” he breathes into your neck, whether he places more sloppy kisses. “You ready for Daddy to fuck you?”

You nod meekly, moaning loudly as you feel Zeke align himself with your slit, and letting out a high-pitched squeal when he pushes himself into you entirely. You choke on your breath at the sudden feeling of fullness, completely ignoring the way Zeke’s focus seems to be on something else.

Perfect timing, he thinks to himself, hearing the car pull into the driveway and knowing his dear wife had arrived home. He was too deep inside of you to care, though.

Zeke pulled his hips back slowly, wanting you to feel every inch of him, and then slammed them down harshly. For every motion of his hips, you released a loud, obscene moan, babbling on without making any sense at all as Zeke fucked you.

All you could process were Zeke’s reassuring praises, calling you a good girl as he continued at a brutal pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t figure out where you stopped and he began.

He picked up the pace and the angle of his cock stretched you out so perfectly, he was hitting against your clit with every thrust and you could swear you were seeing stars again, so close to the edge and screaming out for him, when he clasps a hand over your mouth quickly.

You reacted with a jolt, unsure of why he suddenly silenced you when he placed a kiss right next to your ear, whispering quietly.

“Looks like she’s home. Be quiet for Daddy, okay, baby?” Your eyes widen in panic, flustered with shame and another feeling you can’t put together when Zeke goes back to his quick pace, fucking you rapidly and giving your clit the contact you so desperately needed. You cum again with a stifled, broken noise leaving your mouth and your body jerking up against his, the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth holding you down in place. You feel yourself clench down on his cock, as he rides you through it, thrusting in and out and doing nothing to stop the vulgar noises that fill the room.

You can hear it now—the steps of your mother coming into the house, and probably up the stairs to her office soon enough. Your heavy breathing coupled with Zeke’s grunts are the only sound left as his hips stutter and you feel hot ropes of cum shoot inside you, filling you up. Zeke finally comes to a halt, pressing a kiss to your lips as you hear your mother walk right outside your door, talking to someone on the phone.

Your panicked eyes meet his perfectly calm ones, a devilish smirk playing at his lips as you hear the steps halt and then continue again, walking by your room as though you didn’t even exist.

You release a sigh, Zeke pressing another kiss to you that you return eagerly.

“Good girl. Now clean up while Daddy goes and deals with her.”

You feel suddenly emptier, lighter as Zeke lifts his weight off of you and adjusts his clothes. You sit back up slowly, careful to not make an even bigger mess and ruin your dress, as Zeke grabs your panties off the floor and hands them to you with a smile. You pull them up, fixing your dress and realizing that you need to run a brush through your hair before you see your mother again.

Zeke unlocks the door and leaves with one last smile gracing his face, as you sit up and feel remnants of your encounter inside you.

Moments later, your mother walks by and glances at your open door, which was locked before. She pushes it open, taking a look at you on the bed. You’re certain you look like a mess, hair disheveled and sweat on your body, with limbs feeling like jelly.

“Hi, mom,” you greet, with the most false enthusiasm you can muster. “What is it?” She looks at you coldly, almost as if she knew something was going on and couldn’t quite place it.

“Clean yourself up, honey, Uncle Eren is coming over for the weekend.”

[staysuki]

🍭 BITTERSWEET LIKE CANDY (III) | h.hj smau

070—SEE YOU IN ANOTHER DAY.

warnings: mentions of sickness, hospital, death, angst.

word count: 4242 (meaning of life)

prev ~ directory ~ thank you!!

> bonus chapter/s

when he first met his friend, he never would’ve imagined that he’d ever see her in this state:

frail, weak, unenergetic.

nayeon carried herself like a proper lady, just enough air of responsibility but also the perfect amount of cheerfulness—the girl on the hospital bed, barely able to smile, is not nayeon.

is this what his mother looked like before her last days? is he witnessing the last days of his friends?

he balled his fists tightly in denial. no.

just a few days ago, she was doing fine.

but hadn’t he learned that things don’t alway remain the same way that they did? that change, no matter how abrupt and negative, always happens when you least expect it.

“hyunjin-ah, you look like you want to strangle someone with a pillow.” nayeon spoke up, taking hyunjin out of his daze. his features relaxed as he heard her soft voice, still trying her hardest to remain strong.

but everyone in that room knew that she was in pain, and suffering.

“i’ll strangle you if you don’t get better.” he replied, nayeon simply scoffed at him. she appreciated that he still tried to remain calm and treat her normally. it was definitely an improvement from the bumbling mess that he was earlier.

unfortunately for nayeon, it was jae’s turn to do that.

“you haven’t said a word in 10 minutes, that’s very unlike you.” nayeon pointed out, pinching jae’s arm. he’s sitting by her bed, just looking down in solemnity, he’s probably trying to stay quiet because if he tried to speak, he’d burst out in tears again.

hyunjin almost bursted out laughing when he saw jae panicking around the hospital lobby, screaming for nayeon. one would think that he’s visiting someone who came from an accident. he shed silent tears, and hyunjin is almost surprised at how the two seems so naturally attuned to each other despite only starting to have gone out recently.

perhaps the world knew that they were on borrowed time, any slower and they’d regret it.

“i wish you told me.” jae spoke up, looking at nayeon as he rubbed slow circles on her palm.

“and then what? what difference would it have made?” she replied, still with her snarky self.

jae shrugged, not knowing what difference it would’ve made either, “i don’t know… then maybe i would’ve pursued you harder or something. is this why you keep pushing me away?”

nayeon shrugged.

“i know you like me. you wouldn’t have given me a chance if you didn’t, especially in your situation.” jae pointed out, making nayeon smile.

“well maybe it’s because i wanted to be a bit selfish for myself too.” she replied.

hyunjin gave them some space and privacy for their conversation, he knows they badly needed it. nayeon wasn’t the heartless kind. if she didn’t have any feelings for jae, she wouldn’t lead him on, especially if she knew that she might not be around anymore.

but still, she took the risk for him.

“it’s time for your exhibit soon, right? go on, hyunjin. i’ll watch over her and nona.” jae said, looking at nayeon’s grandmother passed out on the couch. the old lady may not show it, but no matter how many times she’s seen her granddaughter in this state, she’ll never get used to it. she’ll never get used to the fear and anxiety that it brings.

hyunjin says goodbye to both of them before leaving, he’s been staying at the hospital ever since he knew and his lungs are clogged with the scent of medical supplies. the first whiff of fresh air definitely gives him the much needed boost in his energy.

jae is definitely the biggest surprise in his life. at first, hyunjin didn’t know what to make of his olive branch but the more he accepted the man as an older brother figure in his life, the more weight was removed from his shoulders.

when jae had learned about hyunjin’s situation, he was able to look past everything and start to care for him, even at his little sister’s expense—jae, himself, didn’t really know why he did that but all he knew was that it felt like the right thing.

hyunjin’s phone pinged in his pocket and suddenly, he remembered everything happening in his life.

his grandparents are already at the exhibit.

he still doesn’t know how to talk to his father.

he’s adjusting to his new relationship with you.

and jooyeon keeps asking if he can borrow his shampoo.

dismissing the last text, he heads straight back to campus, not even bothering to change clothes—the artist doesn’t need to look extravagant, the art will speak for itself. that’s what hyunjin believed.

sure, he knew that he was a good looking guy, but there was so much more to him than just that.. and he’s definitely more than thankful to the people who see that.

speaking of people—he still doesn’t know what to make of his recent conversation with han jisung. although angry at first, he couldn’t help but still feel empathy towards the young man. he was messed up and needed help, hyunjin just wishes that he’s getting that help he needs now.

“bruh, what took you so long? everyone’s been clogging your side of the exhibit!” ryujin shouted immediately as she saw hyunjin from a distance, walking towards the entrance.

she’s quite the boisterous girl, yet hyunjin liked that about her. she wasn’t just noise, there was depth to her persona which allowed an odd friendship to bloom between the two. if seungmin knew, he’d definitely think that he’s getting replaced by some other cool person.

“what do you mean?” hyunjin asked, confused, as ryujin pulled him towards his area.

“people love it, obviously!” she rolled her eyes, as if wondering why she has to explain the most obvious thing in the world.

a crowd was stood in front of hyunjin’s piece, and it seems like all eyes landed on him when he arrived. the brightness of the gallery contrasted the dark palette of his own works, yet it seems to stand out among the rest of the collections.

“hyunjin.. this is wow—” his professor came beside him, speechless and in awe at what she’s seeing.

there, in front of everyone, is a portrait of a rose—not just any rose, but his mother’s rose. he cut out the canvases so that the visual and shape of his display would imitate that of the actual rose, his own replica of the structure. it was very close to breaking the rules, although he found the loophole that it’s still technically different pieces. because each shape of the rose paints a different scene of a mother and her child—dreams, hopes, wishes of what hyunjin wanted in his life.

for him to have spent time with his mom.

every petal, every stem, every thorn, he put his heart out there hoping that the world could hear his inner child screaming from within.

compliments shower him from all over, praising his genius and asking about his inspiration. the piece definitely spoke to a lot of the people observing it. tears pinch his heart yet he held them in, he’s had enough crying this year.

preoccupied with conversing to the people around him about his piece, he almost forgot the sole importance of his piece—he froze in his spot when he saw his grandmother in the distance, looking at him fondly.

when was the last time a family member looked at him that way? he couldn’t remember.

it was so bizarre that he didn’t even think the look was for him until she strode across the room and gave him a hug. hyunjin didn’t know how to react, this was new to him, his brain almost short circuited.

“samuel, this is absolutely beautiful, your mother would be so proud.” he nodded at the words, not knowing what to say.

now he understood what jae felt, swallowing his words just so he could choke back a sob. he forgoes the lump in his throat and straightened himself up before thinking of what to say.

“thank.. you..” that was the best he could do.

“nice to meet you hyunjin, i’m mr. park jinyoung, i’m your grandmother’s personal butler. so happy to finally meet you in person.” the man beside his grandmother offered his hand, hyunjin shook it with gratefulness.

“oh, nice to meet you. thank you for taking care of her.” he answered politely.

“he’s such a handsome man isn’t he? he’s been serving our family for a while now, he came with me because your grandfather is too busy to make the trip but he’s also just as proud as you. i even sent him pictures right now.” his grandmother clutched his arm in fondness, once again, hyunjin can only nod.

“i’m under instruction to fetch your things right this instant so we may prepare for our flight later on. you can say goodbye to your friends and family here, though i assume you’ve already done that?” mr. park jinyoung said, catching hyunjin off-guard.

jinyoung’s eyebrows raised in surprise, though he could already tell what hyunjin’s expression meant, “you haven’t told anyone.”

hyunjin shook his head, “i wasn’t sure how to.”

“take your time.”

he nodded gratefully. he couldn’t find it in him to say that he’s still having second doubts about leaving—especially since he recently just started to find his footing in this place.

though that’s something that he can bring overseas. he doesn’t have to stay here just to keep doing what he wants to do, so many opportunities are opened when one accepts change.

he already told seungmin, and nayeon already knows. in his mind, those are the only two people that hyunjin holds in importance—but that’s not really true anymore.

there’s jae, there’s the rest of the kims, ryujin, and you. people he hasn’t really said goodbye to.

but farewells are something he’s never really been good at.

so he just won’t do it.

“hyunjin!” a familiar voice echoed at the side, his ears suddenly perked up as he saw his therapist, katie, at the side, holding a bouquet of flowers and handing it to him.

he hugged her tightly, feeling her warmth spread all throughout his system. without knowing it, she became one of the most prominent figures in hyunjin’s life, the closest he’ll ever get to having a mother figure.

“i’m so glad you could make it!” he said, happiness apparent in his eyes.

“of course i would’ve! i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

hyunjin explained the meaning of his piece to katie, although the older woman probably could already tell what it meant after her first look, she knew everything there is about hyunjin after all. she knew his worries, troubles, and triumphs. and she’s more than happy to see his growth all throughout the years.

on your side of the gallery, splashes of digital color adorn the walls through screen projections, although some of your classmates complained about the distortion and the negative effect on it’s quality, once you’ve seen the displays, it was hard not to get mesmerized.

you’ve always loved and appreciated the beauty of art, the different kinds of it. so your veins are filled with ecstasy as you wander around the gallery.

though it’s noticeable that one person isn’t nearly as elated as the rest.

“you okay?” you looked at lia's display and then back to her. the contrast between her bubblegum pop aesthetic and her current disposition is almost satirical.

she nodded in surprise, taken aback that you suddenly talked to her, “yeah, just… tired.”

“you’ve been seeing jooyeon right?” you asked in curiosity since your friend often leaves a lot to imagination whenever he’d answer questions.

she just shrugged, “not really, i guess. i mean, he’s leaving tomorrow so..”

“yeah.” you didn’t know what else to say. has it always been this awkward around her?

“i really messed everything up right from the beginning huh?” she laughed coldly, you felt bad but didn’t really know what to say.

“are you and ryujin still…?”

“oh no, we’re alright now but like, i feel like, if i hadn’t been such a wacko, i’d be around better people.” lia said, lowkey dissing her friends right now.

“we live and we learn though, right?” you gave her an encouraging pat. although she still felt tense, lia appreciated the thoughtfulness behind your action.

you cross the gallery and look around the traditional mediums, you’ve seen hyunjin’s piece before he got here, and definitely before a huge crowd blocked view of it from afar, and it definitely shouted his feelings.

a sudden tap on your shoulder puts you back to your senses, looking back and seeing hyunjin. he gave you a small smile which you returned. suddenly feeling shy at his presence. “wanna walk around together?” hyunjin offered.

you nodded, “yeah let’s replace that old exhibit memory we have together.” he laughed at your reference and gladly offered to take the lead.

“i’m really sorry, for you know, hurting you before. when we were kids.” hyunjin started,

“i mean, seungmin literally only remembered you as the ‘dirty muddy girl’ because i always pushed you at the sandbox back then.”

you laughed at that, feeling nostalgic and missing seungmin’s company. he used to be so apprehensive, although everything had a rocky start, you probably wouldn’t’ve met seungmin if not for hyunjin. you’ll forever be grateful for that.

you just shrugged, “we’ll call it quits, it’s not like it’s one-sided anyways. remember when we had that squabble and i gave you a black eye?”

hyunjin lips tugged into a small smirk at the memory, “yeah, poor ms. song had to interfere between two ratty kids.”

“and for some reason, all the girls at the playground thought you were so cool and hot with your snotty nose and bruised eye even though you were like, 8.”

he laughed out loud, probably cringing at himself, “yeah, i remember having to explain to my dad what happened.”

“sometimes, i wonder what it would be like if things were different.” you muttered quietly, he didn’t answer, so you assumed that he didn’t hear it.

as you walk around the different displays and look at each passing piece, hyunjin suddenly spoke out of the blue, “then we’d probably be like chocolate and candy.”

he looked at you sincerely, as if portraying a hyunjin from a different universe where you two didn’t become so hateful towards each other.

“what do you mean?” you asked, although you had a feeling of what he was trying to imply.

“that we’d be able to talk normally and get to know each other in a better way.” he shrugged.

“you know that we are candy and chocolate right?” you said with a small laugh, hyunjin just hummed in agreement, not knowing what to say.

what he said before was right though, it does feel weird knowing each other’s identity.

you both got to know each other on a blank slate, and now that it’s mixed with years of history, the feelings clash and try to fight each other in a state of confusion. but one thing’s for sure, you’ve always liked candy, you’ve started to like the person behind those words on the screen, and here he is, standing in front of you, staring in your eyes as if he felt the same.

because deep in hyunjin’s heart, he knows that he does.

but he doesn’t have the courage to say it. he doesn’t deserve to.

he doesn’t deserve you.

the sweetness behind chocolate was something that he selfishly kept to himself, something that he never knew he badly needed in his life.

but now, he knows it’ll be unfair if he continues to keep that selfishness. not when he thinks you wouldn’t want him anymore.

“will you be joining us at the afterparty?” you asked with hopeful expectancy.

hyunjin bit his lip in consideration. he didn’t know whether he’d be able to.

because right now, he’s finally certain that he’d be boarding that late-night flight with his grandmother, “i’ll see if i can make it.”

“oh right, your grandmother’s here, yeah? i’m sure you’d want to spend time with her.” he just nodded at your words, his insides killing him for spilling a white lie.

not that there was anything wrong with what he said, but he just couldn’t bring it in him to say that he’ll be leaving.

maybe he didn’t want to see your reaction.

would you be crestfallen?

would you be happy?

he didn’t know. and he didn’t want to know.

right now, jinyoung was on his way to fetch your things—how hyunjin knew? because jooyeon bombarded him with texts asking who was the weirdo suddenly barging in the house and taking your belongings.

it took everything in jinyoung not to slam dunk jooyeon’s head in the toilet.

although the both of you would want to spend more time walking around together, your professors shot you both a text, saying that it’s time for the closing ceremonies for the night.

you two looked at each other in understanding before saying farewell as you split off into different directions of the gallery. both of you wanting to look back at the other.

perhaps it’s because hyunjin knew that it would be his last time talking to you and seeing you.

as soon as he can, hyunjin went straight to the hospital, he finds jae snoring on nayeon’s lap while nona took the night’s watch. nayeon was snapping pictures of the tired man with a small smile on her face.

“back so soon, dear?” nona greeted, offering hyunjin a cup of tea. he gladly accepted as he sat down beside the old lady.

“yeah…” he said, basking in their comforting presence.

“you’re leaving.” nayeon said, immediately gauzing his disposition.

hyunjin sighed, solemnly nodding. nayeon just gestured for him to come closer, “come here you big dumbo.” she envelopes him in a warm embrace, as much as her cold hands could bring.

jae shoots awake, disturbed by the sudden moving of his comfortable lap pillow, “what’s going on?” he yawns groggily.

“hyunjin’s leaving.” although hyunjin wanted to stop her from saying it, there was no point anymore.

“huh? didn’t you just leave for the exhibit earlier? what?” nayeon laughed as jae tried to get his bearings back, checking the time.

“no, you idiot. he’s hopping on the plane to move.” nayeon explained, telling jae of hyunjin’s current situation.

jae just started to blink in surprise, not knowing how to react. he felt like he was losing a family member all over again.

the first time he watched you board on that plane, he was filled with a bittersweet essence. the exact same feeling that’s coming back now.

but at the same time, he’s happy for hyunjin. because his move meant big things, good things. things that have been waiting for him his whole life.

he gave hyunjin a big bear hug, though hyunjin’s build easily swallowed him whole instead. “you do well out there yeah? don’t forget to send your hyung some messages and pictures and souvenirs and everything.”

hyunjin almost laughed at his sentiment, it felt as if he was just going on a trip. though he knew that it was jae’s excuse to keep hyunjin in his life.

“i’ll keep updating you everyday, don’t worry.” hyunjin assured him, but jae just narrowed his eyes at him.

“y/n said the same thing.”

his phone pinged a text from jinyoung, reminding him that they’re downstairs waiting.

with one solemn look, jae gave him a pat on the back before you said your final farewells.

“you go get em over there, i’ll send you oranges,” nona said as hyunjin hugged her goodbye.

he laughed, trying to hold back tears, “nona that’s gonna spoil in the shipment, i won’t be able to eat it.”

she simply raised her eyebrows sternly, “who said you were going to eat it? you squeeze the citrus on the eyes of your enemies.”

“nona! hyunjin’s not gonna have enemies!” nayeon reprimanded.

“you don’t know that.” she answered back.

he’s definitely going to miss this.

on the car ride, they drive past the small bar lit with neon lights and bass music, the afterparty venue. a feeling of longing spread through his veins but he just looked away, keeping his eyes forward.

inside the bar, you look around the crowd, a piece of you hoping that hyunjin would come, but he didn’t.

“dude, why aren’t you enjoying the party? it’s the end of the term!” ryujin commented, handing you a drink.

“i was just looking for hyunjin.” you mentioned, taking the cup from her hands. ryujin gave you a baffled look, her eyes already indicating her intoxication.

“what? he’s somewhere in the other side of the world now!” ryujin explained, extending her hands to symbolize a globe.

your brain started to rewire, wondering what she meant when you’ve just been talking to hyunjin earlier, there’s no way he could’ve teleported in that short amount of time. “you’re so drunk.” you just comment, laughing at him.

“no no no. jae told wonpil then wonpil told jake then jake told me! his grandmother picked him up, they’re on their way to the airport now.” she explained, and you almost dropped your cup.

“he—what?!” you pushed past the people in the crowd as you tried to find a quiet spot outside, dialing your brother’s number. you felt bad for leaving ryujin back there so you texted jake, telling him about her spot.

“oppa! where’s hyunjin?” you asked immediately as he answered.

“hm? at the airport? i assumed he told you.” you grunted in frustration as you hung up immediately.

logically, what’s the probability that you’d be able to catch him before he leaves?

“need a ride?” jake asked from behind you, a proud smile on ryujin’s face as she gave you a thumbs up.

“i told him about it, don’t worry, he hasn’t had a drink.”

jake just shrugged, “seungmin hyung isn’t here anymore but i still can’t retire as the designated driver because of this girl.”

you thanked them immensely as you got inside the car, “i know seungmin will hate me for this but can you please book it?” you asked, making jake laugh.

“we just won’t tell him then!”

jake drove as fast as he, safely, could, wanting to get you to the airport before you lose your chance. he knows how it feels to lose someone without saying goodbye, the least he could do was make sure the people close to him doesn’t experience the same thing.

“wouldn’t it be incredibly cliche if we suddenly get wound up in traffic and y/n had to run on the streets to catch hyunjin?” ryujin voiced out with a laugh, making you chuckle a bit. though you would hope that it wouldn’t happen.

“that would be unfortunate for y/n, we’re in the highway right now. if she even tries to open that door, she might get fined.” jake explained.

thankfully, you were able to breeze through without any problems, you texted hyunjin of his whereabouts as you looked around the airport, though aside from not having any replies from your messages, you also couldn’t see him anywhere.

is it too late?

after months of build up, will everything come crashing down without so much as a goodbye?

did hyunjin purposefully not say goodbye?

why would he do that?

your mind conjured up different explanations for hyunjin’s choice of ending, though you couldn’t understand.

did you not mean much to him?

he said goodbye to jae but not you—

“y/n?” a breathless hyunjin appeared behind you, surprised that you were even here.

“i thought you were already gone..” you said, mirroring his energy, although you didn’t really feel as out of breath as he seemed to be. it’s simply just his effect on you.

“we got stuck in traffic.” you burst out laughing at the irony, hyunjin was confused but still smiled a bit at your disposition.

“were you really going to leave without saying goodbye?” you asked once you finally got your bearings back. he felt guilty, and suddenly, he felt as if he couldn’t look you in the eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, it’s just that.. i didn’t know how to.” hyunjin said.

“but you said goodbye to jae though.” you pointed a bit sulky.

“i didn’t know how to say goodbye to you.” he said.

you stared at him confusedly, “i dunno, bye? like that? bye, i’m going to leave now and not come back.”

“bye, i’m going to leave now and not come back.” hyunjin said, imitating you word for word. you rolled your eyes as you smacked him on the arm, making him laugh at you.

despite the lightheartedness that he’s trying to bring, your heart still felt heavy knowing that he wouldn’t’ve said goodbye had you not caught him, “am i going to see you again?” you asked, hopeful.

“maybe, but that’s up to you.” hyunjin replied, he looked back in your eyes, a sense of belonging yet uncertainty filling his pupils, “are you going to let me?”

he didn’t even have to ask, “always.”

he closes your distance and gives you a hug, a surprise, but a welcome one. you let his arms envelope you as you wrap your arms back around him, inhaling each other’s scent as you say all the silent words you mean to say to each other through the action of skinship.

i’m sorry. good luck. i like you. goodbye.

words meant to be said yet not needed to be voiced—and when you let go, it was time for him to go.

the world brought you two together and never let your strings go even when you two were in different places—it happened once, and you’ve both connected with each other unknowingly, so why can’t it happen again?

this isn’t goodbye.

it’s—

“see you soon,” you waved at him as you see him catch up to his grandmother.

with one last smile, he looks back at you fondly, “see you soon.”

a/n: #slcisoverparty! wow, it's finally over (+bonus chapters) thank you so much to everyone who came with me through this wildass ride. i hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as i had fun writing it. this series will also be another one that's special to my heart, just because of how much effort it took me to come up with these crazy shenanigans. next smau will definitely be lighter (though knowing my track record with going off-plan, i won't make any promises)

p.s. i won't clarify which park jinyoung that was, that's up to you. you're welcome.

as always, i would love to hear everyone's thoughts and feedback! it's what keeps me going <3

[universalimagines]

Temporal Hijinks

So I started rewatching Stargate SG-1, specially the episode Window of Opportunity (again) and I got this amazing idea for a Spock x La’an story where the crew gets stuck in a time loop and of course, hijinks ensue. Hope you all like it!

If someone had told Spock he’d eventually get tired of scientific missions he’d have said they were being illogical but now he was certain they’d been right all along.

Some time ago, the Enterprise had picked up a chroniton surge from a planet near Deep Space K-7, subsequent investigation of the ruins on the planet hadn’t revealed much until Erica Ortegas accidently activated the altar at the center of the settlement. They’d failed to disable it and as a result, the two of them had been stuck in a time loop, one that recurred every 12 hours.

Each loop was always the same. They’d attempt to explain the situation to the crew, Doctor M’Benga would be called in to assess if they were both insane or not before Captain Pike eventually acquiesced and allowed them to try and undue the loop through translating the ruins. Unfortunately, the temple’s dialect was complex and even Uhura could only translate a small amount in each loop and most of their time was spent trying to recall what they’d learnt in the previous loops and writing it down.

The constant repetition had broken Erica several loops ago and Spock was close behind. They were now about 2/3rds of the way through what seemed like their thousandth loop. Spock finished adding the last data he recalled and passing off to Ortegas. He took a seat and let out a very audible sigh.

Una gave Spock a surprised look. She’d known Spock since he’d first come aboard the ship and this was the first time she’d seen him exhibit a very obvious display of exasperation. “How many loops have we been though?” She asked.

Spock sighed. “I stopped counting after about the eightieth loop.”

“I can’t imagine how bad that must be.” Una grimaced.

“It is indeed very frustrating.” Spock replied.

“But it might be an interesting opportunity.” Uhura added.

“Elaborate please.” Spock asked half-heartedly.

“Well if you know everything is going to reset every 12 hours, you could do anything for as long as you wanted and never have to be worried about the ramifications of your actions.” Uhura explained.

Suddenly an idea popped in Spock’s head. He turned to face Ortegas whom it seemed shared the same idea. They both quietly put down their PADDs and walked out of the room without a word to anyone as the two officers pondered what they should do first.

At first they’d separated to partake in their hijinks. Ortegas had taken a shuttle out on several loops to practice the Kolvoord Starburst maneuver, a dangerous flight maneuver she’d attempted while at Starfleet Academy. Whilst Spock had decided to use the time to catch up on reading the books on human sex that T’Pring had mentioned.

When the two decided to spend a few loops having fun together was when the real craziness happened. The pair had decided to prank every senior officer on the ship. Ortegas had to admit that she was surprised by how creative Spock’s pranks had actually been, his logical mind evidently just as skilled and finding ways to mess with people as it was with analyzing the mysteries of space.

 They’d stolen Dr M’Benga’s tribble and let it multiply to the point that the ship was overwhelmed trying to contain them. Another loop they’d called Red Alert during the night shift, enjoying the sight of the entire command crew fumbling onto the bridge half dressed or in pajamas. Her favorite had been shaving off Captain Pike’s hair in the middle of the night leaving him completely bald. She’d even convinced Spock to wear it as a wig on the bridge just as the loop was about to reset.

However even hijinks got boring and Ortegas was ready to get back to undoing the loop. “You want to loop again?” She asked incredulously.

“There is one final activity I wish to use the loop for.” Spock admitted. “Once it is complete I will return to assisting with the translation.”

Erica shrugged and let him go about his business. Spock turned and headed straight for the nearest turbolift. He was relieved she hadn’t tried to follow. For he was absolutely certain if she knew, she’d never let him live it down.

 “Computer time?” He asked.

“The time is currently 0827.” The computer replied.

“Three minutes left.” He whispered.

“Bridge.” He called and the turbolift began its movement upwards.

When it opened a few seconds later, he scanned the bridge for the person he was looking for and within a moment, he found her. La’an.

She was currently pacing around her console as one of the engineers was working on repairing it. Even now Spock couldn’t deny how beautiful she was. She radiated confidence and strength matched with incredible grace. Never since their mind meld following the Gorn attack, he’d been much more aware of how attractive she was and he imagined she wasn’t blind to notice the different way he looked at her.

He in turn had noticed that she too had noticed a change in her since the mind meld. Their relationship was always professional before the attack but now Spock had felt... something. But he couldn't put a finger on what it way. The interactions between them had become softer, with more emotion but neither of them had taken the next step.

He quickly realized his time was running out. Deciding it was now or never, he confidently walked over to La’an, his added presence getting hers, as well as the entire bridge’s attention. “La’an.” He spoke, getting her to turn around.

“Spock...” La’an began but she stopped when she felt his hand behind her head as he pulled her in her in for a kiss. It took her a second to realize that yes, Spock was indeed kissing her, in public and in front of the entire command crew. Her shock quickly gave way as she melted into his arms and decided to kiss him back. In that moment, she didn’t care that the entire command crew could see them. She was just happy the man she was falling for felt the same way about him. They continued to kiss for the few seconds remaining till the loop reset.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took a few more loops but they eventually figured out how to shut down the machine. The answer had actually been remarkably simple and Spock was somewhat annoyed it took so long for them to figure it out.

He was currently sitting at the mess hall reviewing the notes they compiled on the site when he noticed Una, Erica and La’an walk up to his table and sit down.

“So Spock we need you to settle a question for us.” La’an asked.

He put down his PADD. “Go on.”

“How many loops do you think we were in?” Erica asked. “I’m guessing we did at least a few hundred but La’an thinks it couldn't possible have been that many.”

“I cannot say for certain.” Spock admitted. “I myself lost track by the eightieth loop. Though I doubt we were stuck for more than 150 loops.”

La’an smirked at Erica clearly pleased her assessment was the one Spock supported.

Una then chimed in. “150 loops. That’s incredible. In all that time, were either of you ever tempted to do something crazy?”

“Define crazy.” Spock asked hesitantly.

Una shrugged. “Hey no judgement. But you were stuck in a loop where everything reset every 12 hours. You could’ve done anything you wanted and never have had to face consequences.”

Spock took a sip of the water he had been nursing praying that Erica hadn’t said anything. “To use such time for hijinks instead of resolving the loop would’ve been illogical.” He answered, dodging the question.

Erica just smirked and stood up, walking behind Spock. “Yes and we all know Mr Spock is so logical. He would never take advantage of a situation like that. Like say by timing the end of one of the loops to plant a pretty passionate kiss on someone special.”

Spock nearly choked on the glass of water he’d been drinking at the moment. “She saw.” He though as Erica chuckled and walked away leaving Spock alone with two fellow officers staring at him incredulously. He knew that look on their faces. The two of them were not going to let him leave till he’d told them exactly what Erica was talking about.

And if history repeated itself, they’d find out.

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

Any Maglor headcanons?

may you be forever ensconced in vistas of frolicking [insert preferred animals here] for giving me an excuse to talk about this absolute mess of a guy. :]

*dissertation submitting voice* for ease of reading i have divided this post into two sections: tamer/happier headcanons are above the cut-off and more intense/darker ideas fester quietly beneath.

anyways, let's get into it, shall we? 

as a child, he’s pretty sickly and physically frail. this is one of the reasons that Nerdanel and Fëanor decide to stop living nomadically and settle more permanently in Tirion. at least until more younger sibs come along (by which point he’s gotten a lot healthier and more independent anyways), Maglor is very much the doted-on darling of the family.

because of illness, he ended up spending quite a bit of his later childhood outside of Tirion, often in Alqualondë with his maternal grandparents. his time there heavily influenced both his love of the sea and music, and in general he was just really close to them.

he’s really attached to both of his parents, but he’s especially close with Nerdanel, even as an adult. 

his favorite animals are cats and marine creatures. he doesn’t like dogs and carries on an ongoing (and unsuccessful) campaign for Huan being banned from indoors.

he has trouble falling asleep and never is able to sleep deeply. post-Valinor, he always sleeps with lights on.

he has a sense of humor but it’s really caustic and isn’t really funny to anyone outside his family. nobody dares tells him this.

in the Tirion intellectual scene, he and his crowd are considered the most avant-garde. this is especially baffling to Finwë, but he still goes to every performance/exhibition/festival that Maglor is involved in and describes everything, without fail, as “enlightening” or “simply delightful.”

no-one says it, but he’s popularly considered the least nice of Fëanor’s progeny. sure, he’s witty and charming and charismatic (who isn’t in that family?), but something about his expressions never feels exactly genuine.

he’s a grudge-holder to the absolute last, but he’s sneaky enough about it that people are always left guessing whether he’s mad at them or not.

he gets horrible jitters before performing and has to do complex multi-step rituals before going onstage.

he’s a terrible decision-maker and dithers over everything (this is perhaps one of the reasons that he very much did not want to be high king.)

he struggles with accountability and habitually makes excuses for himself based on circumstance or others’ actions.

would-be winner of the biggest contriver of dramatics in Arda award three ages running.

he can be really manipulative, especially to Maedhros. if he isn’t getting what he wants (and sometimes just when he’s bored and wants to get a rise out of someone), he’ll hurt himself or threaten to, bring up upsetting topics, or purposely taunt Maedhros or make him uncomfortable.

i've talked about it before, but he thinks deep down that he deserves all the bad things that happen to him/that it’s a punishment for being a bad person, and will often either just do nothing about harmful circumstances or actively try to make them worse. he’ll goad people (Mae) into hurting him and then will use it as leverage or just swan around pitifully until someone comforts him. it’s a weird masochistic feedback loop.

eventually, he starts buying into and promoting the narrative that he’s a blameless victim of his more forceful family members, which really drives everybody in said family up a wall.

he has a very small but very devoted circle of followers, many of whom are fellow intellectuals and artists who regard him as a kind of creative messiah. many of them used to actually be his friends, but that kind of falls apart after a while as he gets more and more manipulative and controlling towards them.

he was experimental (in an artist-flouting-society’s-petty-conventions way) with substances in Valinor, but in Beleriand he depends pretty much entirely on soporific drugs or alcohol to get any rest at all or be relaxed. he used to be covert about his reliance on them, but eventually everyone just kind of knows and acknowledges that it causes more damage to try and get him to stop than to let him mess around and just keep him from dying.

he can be really nasty and mean to people he either doesn’t like or just doesn’t think are worth his attention. (honestly, he can be really nasty and mean to people he likes too.)

he fetishizes death to a genuinely uncomfortable degree but actually deals with it really badly (eg. he’ll describe in detail how he and Maedhros should kill themselves together but flatly refuses 99% of the time to acknowledge that the orphans they “adopted” weren’t always orphans).

speaking of other brothers, he makes place-settings for them and talks to them during meals while Maedhros and everyone else sit there like  (ʘ_ʘ)

and on that note, thanks again for providing an opportunity for me to take a look at this poor guy (dubious) through my wacky little microscope. he’s lovely and creepy and pitiful and deeply unpleasant, so naturally i love nattering on about him. naturally.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.