#i get jolted with another shock of Wired & Worried

[feastfic]

This one goes out to my homie @sneefer-beaw I LOVE YOU and I hope that ages of not writing doesn't show with this (/lh)!!! A Rush × Reader for all to enjoy :)!

Rain fell off the sides of the twisting mansion — hotel? What it was seemed irrelevant nowadays, however long you've been here. The walls were damp with the musk of rain and mildew permeated by the everlasting water. No matter what time it was, it always seemed to at least be drizzling outside. Outside...a place you haven't been to in a long, long time. All that you were familiar with for what felt like weeks now were rooms and halls that looked the exact same as the last one you stumbled across. You didn't know if you were getting anywhere, or if you were trapped in some loop.

Creatures stalked about, making floorboards creak and lights flicker, tripping faulty wires and sending entire rooms into darkness because of it. Your mind became accustomed to being wary, and your body rigidly tensed at every moment, ready to run. Every strange and unearthly new sound to curse your ears made your heart freeze and your blood run cold. And yet, it felt like a ritual now. Every now and again you just knew something would happen. You knew how to avoid the beasts that dominated this plane, the demons that have probably preyed on countless others just like you.

Your body shivered fiercely as you carefully stepped about the wooden floor; one wrong move and you'd be creaking on a board that hadn't been maintained in possibly millennia, alerting something to your presence. A window to your right was your only source of light as of currently — you made sure not to take the lack of lamplight as nothing to worry about. It could bring forth one of two beasts, possibly three. The screaming one that followed you, the one that makes several rounds around your location, hoping to track you down and strike...or the big one. The big one was the most terrifying one in your opinion. It was loud, it was fast, and it quite literally left you shaken even if you're rooms away from the trail it burns through the halls.

Your eyes drift to the window, then to the wall opposite it. Your shadow was barely visible in the meager light, tiny raindrops encompassing your silhouette. Then suddenly your vision goes white, and a thunderous boom roars through the hall. It shakes the walls, dissipating off into the distance. It was just thunder. Just thunder...

Yet the sound was so similar to the tarry creature's trailblazing cry that it set your heart ablaze, racing a mile a minute. Without even thinking, you dart away from the window to search for a room, anything to take cover inside or behind. Your throat was tight, many terrified cries gathered from days past locked inside. Sounds like those would get you killed, and your instincts demanded you survive this prison.

Nothing proved fruitful; the beds you found in decorated rooms were too low to crawl under. And every place you went, there were no lights. The air got chillier as well, one degree by another, sending goosebumps down your skin in an attempt to keep yourself warm. The chill made your breath shivery, as you rubbed your arms to try and produce some friction. It was impossible to see. No light switch worked, and there wasn't a single flashlight or similar helpful item in sight.

All you had to rely on was your other senses, primarily sound. Your ears strained at every little tink, creak, and groan, determining if it were just the natural state of the hotel, or if it was something approaching. And when you weren't hugging yourself trying to keep yourself warm enough to stay awake and alert, you brushed your hands and fingers along the nearest surface you could feel. Walls, drawers, doorframes.

Lightning flashed by a window you didn't know was behind you, several rooms down from where the first one had struck the earth. Despite yourself, you whelped with shock and terror, every inch of your body jolting and cascading you in icy-hot adrenaline. And then came the crack of thunder, much louder this time. It rattled your teeth in your skull and made you wince, your heart feeling like it was being crushed by the sheer volume of the sound. It felt like it lasted minutes, hours, until it finally died down in the distance.

Your body felt much warmer suddenly, like your muscles blazed anew with vigor and the desire to get you out of there. Yet when you tried to run, you felt stuck in place. Not a single fiber twitched; you were paralyzed by your fear while your body was desperate to escape.

You tried harder, as if the force of your will would make your legs move. Nothing. Your eyes darted in the darkness, your breathing hastening, before a warm gust brushed against your hair, hot against your face. It was ragged, rough; like the thing was constantly yet only slightly congested. The chill crawled through you again, and you toppled back. Finally you could move again, and yet before you could even attempt to escape, a hand large enough to cover your entire torso pinned you to the floor.

It was your worst fear: the big one; the one that rushed. It had you right beneath its claws, its enormous fingers unmoving as you pushed and pleaded to be let go. As if it would listen to you.

You tried to cry out, but your throat gave out. All that came out was a pitiful squeak, as the beast lowered its head, two tiny and malevolent pinpricks of light — its eyes, the ones you only ever saw when it was honed in on something — staring you down from within the sockets of the skeletal face you were lucky you couldn't see. You flinched back from its breath, shivering not from the cold now, but from pure fear.

Its face drew closer to yours, its body shockingly hot — so much so that the heat radiated off of it and onto you. Again you tried to free yourself, shoving your hands upwards, attempting feebly to remove yourself from the eyes peering down at you. Yet it was unfazed, the uneven, nasally expirations heating your skin, until you could feel its head pressed against your chest. It...it was smelling you, like you were nothing more than an interesting object it captured for further investigation.

A dull thought crossed your mind then: maybe, if you didn't move, it would lose interest and leave you alone. Or maybe it at least wouldn't realize what you were (but if it already did, did it toy with its prey first? What would the benefit of that be?) You remained still, praying for any divine intervention or being to bless you and keep you alive one more day. All while its hot breath snuffled against you, the hand that had captured you lifting slightly. But then lifting you, as well. You held your breath, trembling as the embrace of the floor was snatched away from you. The air felt much colder, but less so because of the heat of the demon that held you, felt at you with a curved knuckle, the pinlight eyes never leaving you. Its gaze betrayed its intelligence; it was a smart thing, it knew you were nothing more than human. It was dead, empty, devoid of any emotion, yet nonetheless enraptured with you. Aware of your fragility, your vulnerability. Two of its hands cupped themselves around you like a dome, entrapping its body heat in with you.

It was keeping you warm. The only question in your mind now was why?

Your bewilderment was invisible to it, for even in this pitch darkness it could not see clearly, but its gesture was unmistakably, enigmatically gentle. No matter which angle you looked at it, why it wasn't tearing into you was beyond you; it was so capable of doing so, and seemed intent on that goal every other time. Now seemed no different.

But...you were still alive, and you were in the hands of a beast that terrified you. So despite the warmth, and the way it held you, you couldn't bring yourself to feel safe. Perhaps grateful, in a strange, roundabout way, even when you were still scared out of your wits. A large thumb pressed against your chest, like an attempt at a caress, and the motion made you flinch and push back. The heat helped to clear your mind (or perhaps clouded it further; who still had their sanity and just let this thing touch them?) and a feeling of...it not actively trying to hurt you crept up your spine.

That feeling was almost as uncomfortable as your fear, due to how alien it was. But as you pushed the thumb away, your hands lingered on its skin. Beneath your palms it felt like taut leather, oily yet firm, and not quite like it was hard to grasp. However, it made you feel like your hands would be greasy once you pulled them back. The beast grunted at your reaction, huffing and violently tussling your hair as a result. Its thumb pressed back against you, and this time you didn't struggle. It made another sound, some sort of rumbling noise, low yet deep enough to send ripples through your ribs. You removed your hands from its finger, earning a growl that shook you to your core — placing them back on brought forth the rumbling again.

Okay, so it...liked? was satisfied? with this. Swallowing down a fraction of your fear, you managed to find just enough of your voice to make a few words; "What do you want?" From me, the words you wanted to add on evaded you. You got no response, just the cold lights in those dead eyes staring down at you. Could it understand you?

"What do you want...from me." You spoke again, more of your voice coming back to you. It shook and wavered horribly, but you were legible. One of your hands balled into an anxious fist, trembling as the hands surrounding you closed in slightly. The beast gave no answer, only moved, lifting itself and trudging along, with you still held in a hand. Well, you were closer to its chest now, and the two hands domed over you were no longer there. You don't know where it was taking you, but you didn't move a muscle, listening intently. To its rough breath, the strange pulsing feeling beneath its skin. It wasn't a heartbeat, it wasn't nearly as centralized or strong enough to be that — it was like its entire body beat as one, solid, strong, and steady.

The rhythm of its walking and the pulsing of its body became something you counted your breaths to. How many steps it took, how many times it thrummed with energy — you tried to figure out where it was taking you, but after enough turns around corners, you were left lost and wondering. The entire time, you were held between its chest and hand.

What felt like out of nowhere, you were lowered back onto the floor, your legs almost instantly giving out from under you. The beast made no effort to catch you, instead nudging you so that you were sitting and off your knees, settling itself beside you. It was close enough that you could still feel its warmth, warding off the cold of the hotel.

You fumbled around a little, unsure if you wanted to act like this was a normal situation, like you weren't scared, and so many other things. Eventually you settled on hugging your knees to yourself, ready to bolt at a moment's notice, yet begrudgingly remaining close to the side of the one who had brought you here. Seeming to notice your behavior, it released a low growl, and you went tense as you felt its claws pull you against itself. But that was all; it kept its hand close, yet made no further move. You were left to your own devices now.

And your devices weren't very diverse right now. You concluded you had no real choice in the matter, and relented in leaning towards the palm at your side. Tentatively you clear your throat; "You're not going to hurt me, are you?"

Who asks that question to something like this? You, apparently. And apparently, it responds. It uttered another growl, yet you couldn't tell what that meant, or even if it understood you. You had to assume it did, even if it was still a guessing game as to what it was trying to say.

"You...aren't?" The growl was replaced with that thrumming sound again, gently vibrating against the floor. Oddly this released some of the tension in your shoulders. You let out a soft and shaking sigh, your shoulders falling. "Thanks...I think."

Its breath roused your skin and hair again as its head settled near you, eyes watching you again while it kept its hand around you. It was lax, its body moving only in time to the inhales and exhales it took, a smooth and rhythmic motion. Nothing about it really expressed an ulterior motive, and so many questions died on your tongue as you surmised that asking it many things would only land you in a tricky spot.

Slowly, you leaned into its palm, shuddering at the initial contact before forcing yourself to ease up a little. All it did was watch, motionless, before only slightly curling its fingers around you. You sighed again before sucking in a breath, leaning your full weight against it, as it seemed to curl itself around you.

You were no longer cold. All you felt was its heat that it mysteriously shared with you, the gentle pulsating of its heartbeat without a heart, and the vibrating of its strange rumbling against the floor. Not even the rain crept its way through its sounds — it was all around you, all your senses could pick up on. It drowned everything else out, and you felt something odd about that. As if that wasn't a terrible thing. And maybe it wasn't.

[wabblebees]

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[roscgcld]

DAYDREAMING!AU || new reality

;request: rn i’m obsessed with your writing & the daydreaming!reader<33 but i also love angst so what would happen if she ended up getting really hurt protecting another student - hope that wasn’t too weird.. again, i love your writing !!

note: ahaha, i am glad that a lot of people enjoy my daydreaming!reader works; she is also one of my babies as well >< and originally i wasn't going to do this cause i had no idea on what to write - but i had managed to layout a rocky plan before i got some bursts of inspiration lol. ended up becoming too loud though ><” I am sorry for that~

pronouns: she/her

daydreaming!reader masterlist

“There is a chance that she will never wake up from this.”

Shoko gave the others in the room a concerned glance as she glanced up from her tablet, hating how silent it was besides the quiet beeping of the machines around the occupied bed. Laying in the bed was Y/N, a breathing tube carefully inserted into her mouth with the ventilator beside her being the only thing that’s keeping her oxygen levels normal. “The amount of damage she took was quite large. And even though she had managed to regulate quite a strong barrier of Curse Energy around her at all times, it wasn’t enough to brace her for the impact of her being slammed into the build.”

The mission shouldn’t have ended this way - the first and second year students were sent on a mission to deal with a few Finger Bearers that had appeared in the city due to the lack of sorcerers on duty at the time. They were under the care of a few First Grade sorcerers, all hand-picked by Yaga-sensei to ensure the safety of the kids.

However, things rarely go to plan in the jujutsu world.

Yaga-sensei sighs softly as he leans back into his seat, his eyes glancing over at his student that was clearly battling to stay alive. Guilt started to eat him from the inside out, since this was technically his fault. Sure, everyone knows that there is no way that you can go on a mission without enduring some casualties. But the fact is that this was not what he had expected for the outcome to be.. “I am going to kill them myself.”

“G-Gojo-san!” Ijichi hissed out as he glances over at the white haired shaman in the room with wide eyes, the man having been leaning against the wall opposite from the hospital bed with his arms crossed over his chest. His head was tipped forward with an almost too casual expression on his face, yet anyone can tell the barely suppressed anger that lurked underneath. An anger that was only a few moments away from exploding. “You can’t - don’t say things like that!”

“And you expect me to sit back as they failed to save the children?” Gojo asks in a loud voice, effectively squashing whatever confidence Ijichi had built up inside of him. The hand that was resting arm tightened, the veins at the back of his pale hands started to protrude out as Gojo’s anger started to show itself. “I need a good explanation on how their incompetency put our student in this state. 5 First Grades against 3 Special Grade Curses? With 7 talented students by their side and they still can’t handle it? Give me a fucking break.”

“Not everyone can be like you, Satoru.” Yaga-sensei finally mumbles out as he rests his forehead into his hand, fingers pinching at the space between his eyes tiredly. “If anything, it was my fault. I had underestimated the brains of the Finger Bearers, and because of that, all my calculations were wrong. I put retrieving the fingers over numbers. So if you want to find someone to be angry to, the blame is on me.”

The room went quiet after Yaga’s explanation, both Ijichi and Shoko sharing a caution look before casting a glance over at the blindfolded man. After a few tensed moments Gojo pushed himself off the wall and walked out of the hospital room without another word, closing the door behind him quietly; a stark contrast to his usual habit of either slamming the shoji doors too hard, or leaving it open completely.

That out of character move definitely had Shoko sighing in concern. “That idiot...I hope he’s not going to do anything stupid.” She mumbles softly before she turned back to face the young girl laying on the bed, quietly reaching over to brush her fingers through the soft strands that had fallen over Y/N sleeping face. “You better wake up soon, sweetheart...I worry that this might finally push him over the edge.”

Occupying each seat outside of the small waiting area in the infirmary were the other students; wounds bandaged, yet their anxiety was palpable in the air. They had heard what had happened, yet were sheild by the other sorcerers who had called for back-up. Last they heard of Y/N was a scream before what sounded like a building collasping. “Do you think Y/N-senpai is alright?”

Yuji was the first one who dared to break the silence, glancing up from his clenched hands before him to glance at the others. “I mean...it must have been bad, since she was charted off as soon as back up arrived.” Yuji mutters softly as he tightened his fingers together, trying to stop them from shaking. He felt awful - if only he had spared a few seconds to glance over at his senpai, maybe she wouldn’t be in the condition she’s in now. “It’s not every day you’re rushed straight to Ieiri-sensei’s office...”

“...If there is one idiot who can pull through, it’ll be her,” Maki mumbles out quietly after awhile, looking away from her kouhai to stare down at the wooden floors of the building they were in. “Even if it’s bad, she always pulls through it...there is no reason why she can’t do it this time.” She mutters softly just as a pair of footsteps came towards them, causing everyone to look up at the approaching figure. 

Gojo paused when he spotted the others, the question they wanted to ask was clear as day. And for once, Gojo wished that he was able to reassure them like he always does. For him to be able to put up the act that everything was alright, that everyone will be okay. 

But he knew that it’ll do no justice if he did. “Is she...is she alright?”

The question that fell from Yuta’s mouth was left hanging in the air for a few moments, the sliver of hope they had moments ago slowly dimming with each passing moment. Quietly Gojo slipped his hands into his pockets, his blindfolded eyes downcast; too scared to see their reactions. For once, he wished that he was not the one to break the news to the students. “Y/N-chan...might not recovery from this.”

His words sent shock waves through the students, yet he balled his fists up in his pockets to continue with what he had to say. “She hit her head too hard...and if she was not subconsciously protecting herself with Cursed Energy all the time, the impact would have caused her skull to crack in two on impact. But it still took a lot out of her person, and Shoko said that-”

The sound of a metal chair being thrown backwards echoed across the room, causing Gojo to look up just in time to see Yuta standing up with wide eyes as he hastily tried to calm his friend. “Maki, you need to calm down.” He tried to reason with the girl, who had her backed turn to the group, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. “This isn’t your fault-” Yuta tried to reason, only to pause when Maki just silently started to walk away, leaving with no more but a loud slam of the main door that echoed down the hallway once more. 

For a few moments no one said anything else, yet the first one to move was Megumi; who turned to face his sensei. “Can we visit her?” He mumbled out quietly, to which Gojo just glanced over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Usually people talk to someone who is in a coma. Might jolt them awake or give them encouragement to fight harder...I am sure Y/N-senpai will get lonely if no one visited her..”

“Why not?” Gojo said after a few moments of thought, giving his students what he hope was a reassuring smile as he turns a little; nodding down the hallway. “Shoko managed to stabalise her condition. Just make sure to sanatise your hands at the door.”

Quietly the group of students followed behind their silent sensei, keeping close to one another as if they were trying to give each other comfort. The walk to the room seemed too far, the door seeming to grow further and further away from them with each step. It was if it was trying to stop them from seeing the truth; yet they didn’t stop. Yet soon they found themselves standing before the smooth door; the single grey name plaque with her name written in black resting in the silver plaque holder. “Right, here we are.”

After everyone was handed a blob of hand sanitiser and had wiped it onto their skin, the small group entered after a quiet knock to the door. “Y/N-chan, I’ve returned with the others...minus one, that is.” Gojo hummed out in delight as he made his way towards the bed, a silent gesture for the others to do the same. “You know Maki-chan though. Once she finishes beating herself up, she’ll come running back. She always does~”

Quietly the others made their way into the room, eyes scanning over the beeping machines and many wires connected to the sleeping girl. “Y/N...senpai..” Nobara mumbles out in shock, her eyes resting the ventilator; not believing that a girl that was bounding about the college earlier today now needed help to do something as simple as breathing. “No way...there is...”

A warm hand rest on the top of her head, Megumi quietly giving her a form of comfort whilst his wide eyes stared at the bed before him in shock. No one dared take a step forward, like they were standing on the other side of a fragile glass bridge that was moments away from breaking. “Y/N..”

Gojo felt the hole started to eat inside of him as he watches how his students were staring at their fellow classmate in shock. Quietly he settled down in the only seat at the corner of the room, watching from the shadows at how the others will react to seeing her in such a state. The first person to snap out of it was Yuta, who quietly places a hand on Toge’s shoulders before giving it a light squeeze. “Shall we go and say hello?” 

Quietly Yuta made his way towards the bed, only to hesitate one step away from grabbing onto her hand. He stared at the frail hand, a simple IV needle carefully taped on the back of her palm for a few moments; a clear look of uncertainty on his face. Yet he took a deep breath, and with a trembling hand, carefully took Y/N’s cold hand in his. “I...Hi, Y/N...” Yuta mumbles quietly into the hospital room, voice barely heard over the constant beeping of the heart monitor. “Sorry...we took awhile to visit...and sorry that Maki isn’t here...I am sure she’ll drop by when she is ready though.”

The only response he got was the sound of the steady beep of the heart monitor, to which he just tighten his grip ever so slightly on Y/N’s unmoving hand. He could hear the soft giggle that Y/N would let out at his words, and if he felt tears welling up in his eyes as he hears her voice bouncing around inside his head.

“It’s alright, Yuta-san! I am sure you were busy before that. And I know Maki-chan will come after you leave - but you didn’t hear that secret from me~”

The silence of the hospital room made Yuta sick to the stomach, the idea that he might never hear Y/N’s voice again started to really sink in. Her usually warm and familiar touch felt cold and lifeless, causing Yuta to carefully tuck her hand underneath her hospital blanket; as if he was trying to warm it up once more. “I...I am going to go grab her favourite stuffed animal from her room. I am sure she’d love to have something of comfort whilst she’s here...if you’ll excuse me.”

Without another word Yuta just walked out of the room quietly, Yuji being the only one turning to watch his senpai leave with a look of concern. Out of everyone Yuji was definitely the one who seemed to be able to hold himself together the most, so it was no surprise when he was the one that went next. “Yo, Y/N-senpai,” Yuji greeted quietly as he walked towards the hospital bed, easily dodging all the wires and such. After all, this wasn’t his first time visiting someone he cares for in the hospital. “Can you hear me? I hope you can - or not Fushiguro might lecture me for being loud.”

The other sorcerer couldn’t even find his voice whilst Yuji continues on; his voice soft yet soothing as he looks down at his senpai with nothing more but a soft smile. “I know you’re trying your hardest go come back to us, and you’d probably tell us that we’re not the ones to blame. That you’re a big girl now, and things like this happen all the time.” Yuji continues, the only indication to his change of mood was the slight quiver that was hard to hide. Yet Yuji continued on anyway. “I hope you know we miss you...and we’re worried sick that you’re in the state you are now. But I know that you need some time to rest up, and soon you’ll be back on your feet again, right? ‘Cause..b-because that’s how you’ve always been.”

Silence enveloped the room once more, with Yuji just not sure on what else to say to her as he stared at her pale face. The other three in the room sort of just huddled together, all of them unsure of what to say to her. They weren’t the best with emotional words - beside Toge, who usually doesn’t use words at all - so asking them to keep their tone in check whilst referring to their unconscious classmate is a little too much for them.

So after awhile Yuji decided to lead them out of the hospital room, giving Gojo a parting smile before he closes the door behind him. Leaving him alone as he stared at the slumbering figure of his student as he rests his elbows on his parted knees. Quietly he rests his head in his hands, eyes closed as he tried to push back the light migraine that was coming on. He hates that it is his duty to break the news to the others - her parents, her elders. Heck, he has to give a call to Nanami and Utahime to tell them the bad news. 

If it was anything else, he wound be more than excited to blow their phones up. But this? He wishes that the duty was handed to someone else - because he himself doesn’t even believe that this was happening in the first place. 

He wishes that this was all just a terrible nightmare.

Maki quietly pushed the window open as she climbed in from the roof, the doors of halls of the infirmary long going silent; cicadas chirping away in the night sky. Maki quietly stuffed her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, eyes racking over Y/N’s sleeping form, to the amount of machines that were working by her side to make sure that she’s alive. “Hey, idiot...I’ve arrived.”

Quietly she made her way towards Y/N’s bedside, her eyes clouding over with an unreadable emotion. If she was being honest, she didn’t know how to react right now. On one hand, she was pissed - she is pissed off because she could have done something to help Y/N. Maybe if she was just faster, just a bit more aware, maybe if she was training to try harder. Maybe if she can just try harder-

A loud slap sounded across the room, Maki having pulled her hand out of her pocket to slap across her cheek hard to snap out of the spiraling thoughts. The burning sting on her cheek reminded her to return to reality before she started to trash the room out of anger, something that she and Y/N had been working on for some time now. Y/N would always say, “You should never turn to anger and violence to deal with your issues!”

Maki wonders what her reaction would be if she had saw Maki slapping herself so hard that there was a light handprint on the side of her cheek. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

With a tired sigh Maki settled down in the seat that Gojo had occupied earlier in the day, keeping her eyes on the steady heart monitor; her eyes following the spike that indicates the faint heartbeat of Y/N. “Who the hell knew that it took an entire building to really get you hurt.” Maki sigh as she tore her eyes away from the screen, looking down at her boots quietly; examining all the scuffs and scratches on marring the smooth leather. “Call me stupid, but I really thought that it’d take more than that. Remember when you had jumped out the window of the 10th floor and left with no more but a bruise? You were crying about it ‘cause you couldn’t wear dresses for about 2 weeks.”

Maki let out a tired laugh at the memory of finding Yuta trying to reassure a crying Y/N when she found the bruise on her knee; Yuta just patting her head with the most amused look on his face whilst she cried her eyes out at the idea that she can’t wear her cute dresses until it cleared up. “Imagine what will happen when you wake up from this? God, that is going to be a pain.”

A soft sigh left Maki’s lips as she glances over at the stuffed sheep that Yuta had brought from her room; along with a few more random stuffed animals that surrounded her head like a halo. This caused her to smile sadly as she rests her head on her shoulder, watching her for a few minutes without saying anything. Maki had always been bad with words and emotions; with all the things she had gone through when she was younger. Wording how she feels and emotions are not Maki’s favourite thing to deal with, since she wants to keep this badass, strong woman front she has on all the time to prove something to her elders.

“You better wake up from this, or not I am going to kick your ass.” Maki mutters after a few moments, getting up with a tired sigh before she casts her another glance at Y/N. Without missing a beat, she reaches over to brush strands of hair away from her face, warm hand resting on her head for a few moments before she places a few parting pats on her head; something she had always done when she needs to leave for a mission or a meeting outside of school. 

“‘Night, brat. Wake up soon, okay?” Maki mutters, and with a final sigh she made her way towards the window she climbed in once more, quietly shutting it behind her after she hauled herself over the railing. It was only in the dead of the night that Maki quietly lets her tears fall, biting her lip hard to stop whatever sounds that were threatening to leave her lips. 

Because at the end of the day she is stubborn, and refuses to believe that this might be her new reality.

A week had passed since the day that the others found out that Y/N had fallen into a coma of a sorts, and everyone would visit at least once just to see if there is any sight of change. That there might be a sign that she was going to wake up soon. And there were slight changes; a few days after she had been admitted she was allowed to get off the ventilator and rely on oxygen instead. But she was still in bad shape.

Nanami tries to make time to drop by to visit as well, coming over to quietly read pages of the book that he was reading. Whenever Y/N was sick, she would call Nanami over the phone and ask if the man can read to her; something about how she finds comfort in his voice that puts her at ease. And since Ieiri had encouraged them to talk to her more for stimulation, Nanami takes the time to read to her after a long day of work. It brought him some comfort as well, listening to the constant beeping of the heart monitor and the humming of the other machines around her.

Gojo would sometimes drop by as well, only to berate Nanami for his ‘boring’ book choices; and an unconscious Y/N has to endure two adults arguing about book choices and how Gojo’s titles are definitely not appropriate to even bring onto school grounds.

Besides the occasional argument, sometimes Gojo will prop his phone up against a vase of flowers that Yuji brings so that Utahime can FaceTime him; the students from the Kyoto side being able to see and talk to the slumbering Y/N. For the most part, everyone was shocked that she was in the state she was in; having never expected such a bright and talkative person can fall into such a state.

The most distraught one was definitely Todo, who had almost jumped out of his seat and make a full on dash towards Tokyo if it wasn’t for Noritoshi and Mai joining together to restrain the man, along with Principal Gakuganji threating to hold him back from their planned trip to Tokyo the following week that had him calming down.

But barely - the man is still more than ready to just up and run across the country just so he can be closer to his ‘beloved Y/N-chan’.

Every day, without fail, Toge will come into her hospital room with a new accessory to pull her hair back into; carefully brushing her hair out and applying dry shampoo so it wasn’t greasy to the touch. Once he was satisifed he’d carefully style her hair back so it didn’t get in the way of her checkups, taking his time with everything so he gets to spend more time with her. He doesn’t say much, he usually finds that doesn’t whenever he is around her; so he takes his time when he does her hair in hopes that she can feel that he is there for her.

Yuta and Megumi will find time after classes to go and visit her together, telling her about everything that had happened whilst she is asleep. Sometimes Nobara will visit as well, must for the most time she’d come alone in the evening after dinner to just rant to her about everything that she found annoying that happened over the day. Nobara usually stay until Ieiri comes to kick her out, hoping that Maki might come in as well to visit Y/N.

But Maki never does - yet everyone knows that Maki finds the time in her day to go and visit her like everyone else. However, no one dared to ask her how or when she does it. They’ve accepted that it was probably a sensitive subject to her, and that it’s off limits to ask her unless you want her to ignore you for the rest of the day. Gojo had learnt it the hard way when he had teased her, only to be thrown out the window of their classroom by an annoyed Maki.

Even his Infinity is no match for that woman’s wrath.

Days soon led into weeks, with slow but not so encouraging signs of improvement from the young girl. The elders of her clan and her parents had visited the college as soon as they can, and had kept tabs with every single thing that is going on with her. There was no denying the fear of her suddenly relapsing once more, and soon it will become too much for her parents to bear. The idea of keeping Y/N around, knowing that she is in so much pain, just for their selfish want of keeping her alive was a reality they want to avoid. 

The once vibrant and lively campus soon turned gloomy; the hallways of the school quiet without the familiar sound of bunny-themed slippers running across its worn-out flooring. The chime of a familiar giggle was missing in the air, along with a dreamy voice that just never seems to stop; no matter what time of the day it is. There were days where the others forget that Y/N was not there to make dinner for the night, or she wasn’t there when they want to ask her opinion about something. Her room, which once served as a sanctuary for the students who can’t sleep at night, now became too painful to even walk past on certain days.

Yet everyone tried their hardest to go on with their days, knowing that it was what Y/N wanted them to do. If they were to allow their grief to consume them whole, they knew the delicate routine they had rebuilt would crumble before them. And if there is one thing they can do to keep Y/N’s memory alive, is to live their lives to the fullest. To try and cherish each and every day, no matter how painful reality is without her by their side.

They have to try, for her sake.

It wasn’t until a month passed when Yuta had came running into the lunch hall, looking like he had seen a ghost as he tried to catch his breath. “Okkotsu-senpai?” Megumi asks in concern as he looks over at the older man, putting his tray down to try and give his panting senpai a hand. “Are you-” He asked, only to have Yuta put a hand up to stop him as he took a few deep gulps of air.

“A-Awake...Y/N...Y/N is awake.”

Within a few seconds the students were sprinting across campus, none of them believing what Yuta had said until they have see it for themselves. What is usually a 10 minute walk from the lunch hall took about four minutes with them sprinting, possibly annoying half of the cleaners of the school that they were breaking the no running rule. Yet they didn’t stop even at their annoyed outcries, the simple wooden door of the infirmary almost coming off its hinges at how hard Maki had thrown it open.

Maki was the one who pushed the hospital room door open, causing the people in the room to jump in shock. Including Y/N, who had let out a soft squeak of shock; her voice hoarse from not using it for so long. The others blinked in shock at the sight of Y/N’s bright eyes meeting theirs at the doorway, ones that blinked before she gave them the biggest smile she can muster.

“H-Hi.” Y/N mumbles softly, to which Nanami just gave her a rare smile as he gently rubs her back, Gojo smirking softly as he recorded the reactions of the others by the door. He had gotten over the shock a few moments ago. “Don’t strain yourself, Y/N-chan. Remember what Ieiri-sensei said about straining your voice.” The blonde man hummed before he turned his blue eyes over at the shocked students as well. “And that goes to you too. If you all stress her out, I am not against tossing you all out.”

Y/N made a noise and turned to try and reassure the older man, not noticing how the others were staring at her in shock. The first person to move was Maki, whose eyes look suspicious wet as she stormed into the room. “I am going to kill you.” She growled out loudly, to which Y/N jumped before she held her arms out for protection; feeling a shiver of fear go up her spine. Yet before she can make a move to stop her, Maki suddenly wrapped her up in a hug, the arms that Y/N held out to try and pacify her angry classmate freezing from the unnatural reaction from Maki.

Y/N blinks for a few moments before she smiles softly and wraps Maki up in her arms as well, gently patting her head as Maki silently wets her shoulder with her tears. “I know.” Y/N mumbles out softly before her eyes met the others, giving them a soft smile as she gently gestures to the others to enter her room. Soon there was just a huge ball of crying teenagers hugging one another on Y/N’s hospital bed; Gojo and Nanami having moved aside to give them more space for their reunion as they watched on from the other side of the room. “Should we stop them?”

“Nah, we might get murdered if we try.” Gojo said with a hum as he grins over the sound of intelligible crying, looking over at Nanami who had a ghost of a smile on his lips at the sight. “Besides, this is great content. I never had a video of Maki crying before.” Gojo admitted, to which Nanami’s smile dropped as he looked over at him in annoyance. 

“Why am I not surprised at all?”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[fighterkimburgess]

Unintentional Chapter 1 - Friendship

Summary: After Al's death, Kim decides to focus on herself and her friendships, leading to her and Jay hanging out more. Series Masterlist Here

Words: 3.3K

Warnings: gunshot injuries, talk of not great family relationships, part of this happens in a church.

AN: Welcome to Unintentional! This fic has, quite literally, been rolling around my brain since June and I'm so excited to publish it. It's a lot of Kim finding herself, miscommunication, and Burgstead friendship/feels/crossed wires. I really hope you'll all enjoy it just as much as I do.

Wanna join my taglist?

--

When the call came over the two way that there’d been shots fired at the police, Kim’s heart stopped in her throat. They’d only lost Al, she didn’t know if she’d be ok with losing anyone else in the unit. Hailey’s frantic calls didn’t help either, the fear in her and Adam’s voices struck Kim. But she held her position, held where she was supposed to be, and waited for it to come over the radio that Jay was ok, the bullet had hit his vest.

With a case as complicated as this - not even just Jay being involved, but arson and CFD and a cartel - the paperwork was going to be awful. Voight came back to her position, still shaking slightly and she could see the worry on her Sarge’s face. She may have only worked with him for eighteen months closely, but she knew what he looked like when he thought he’d lost someone, when he had lost someone. It was the ghost of that expression on his face now.

“Go home, we can do the paperwork in the morning.” She shook her head at that. Home didn’t sound appealing at all. She didn’t want to sit and think over the what ifs of the day - what if she’d been in pursuit, what if Adam had been shot?

“I’ll get the paperwork started. I need to do something.” She was calm as she spoke, looking straight into Voight’s eyes as she said it.

“Ok. Don’t stay too late, understood?”

As she got into the car to drive back to the precinct she could feel herself relax. After cases like this, that’s when she and Adam would usually end up sleeping together. He’d texted, he and Hailey were going for drinks if she wanted to join them, but she turned it down. She couldn’t keep doing their constant on off sleeping together friends with benefits thing. Their engagement was over, and as much as she’d always have a little piece of her heart marked for Adam Ruzek, a small part of her that would always wonder how things would be if they had been married, she knew they couldn’t to this to each other and themselves. She needed to move on. Sylvie had mentioned some OKCupid dates, they’d meet up and have a wine night and Sylvie could help her get set up on it to avoid the creeps.

The time passed quicker than she expected, the paperwork getting filled out. Most of it would need a final signature from Hailey or Voight, but if she could get most of it done it’d save them time in the end. Hearing footsteps behind her shocked her as she jolted out of her seat, seeing Jay at the top of the stairs.

“I thought they’d keep you in, what are you even doing here?” Kim asked him, a similar look on Jay’s face as her own.

“Will and I went to my dad’s apartment to start looking around and clear it out. I didn’t wanna go home, I’ve crashed on the couch here before.” He went to move into the break room, but Kim stood.

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh? I had something earlier.” She shook her head at that.

“Look, my eyes are crossing looking at the screen and paperwork right now, I was about to leave and order takeout. We can get food? You’ll sleep better in an actual bed, and I don’t want to be alone yet. We can go to yours and eat pizza? Is that ok?” Kim watched him weigh up her questions, finally nodding, slumping slightly.

“Yeah. That actually sounds good. Could you give me a ride? I’m not cleared to drive for another day or two.”

Kim nodded, the two heading down the back stairs to avoid the night Sergeant. It didn’t take long for them to arrive at Jay’s, settling in on the couch with their food.

“I know everyone’s said it to you, so I won’t, but I get having a not great relationship with your parents. And I get not knowing if you actually had closure over it. If you want to talk, I’m here.”

They were quiet for a few moments, the comedy show on tv not making them laugh before Jay spoke up.

“He was actually proud of me, he never said it. Every time I ended up in the news he had a clipping. He kept it all, y’know? And now I feel bad.”

“He loved you, remember that part. My dad wasn’t great, he didn’t approve of me being a flight attendant, he definitely didn’t approve of me being a cop. I grew up in St Charles, y’know? Go to college, get married, pop out babies in that order. Preferably get married the summer after college. He and my mom split up after I moved out, and I don’t even know if I have the right address for him. I send him a Christmas card every year, but I don’t even know if I have the right address. I don’t know if he’s even alive. So I get it, believe me.” Kim kept her voice light, keeping the hurt she always felt about her dad out of it. Jay didn’t need that.

“Yeah. I always thought he never wanted me, never cared about me. I just wish he knew.”

“He did. They always say that hearing is the last sense to go. He knew you were there, Jay. I honestly believe that.”

They sat in silence until the show ended, Kim’s stomach full and realising she needed to leave. But Jay was home and they were all safe, and that was a win at the end of the day.

“I’m gonna go. I’ll see you when you’re back in work?” She asked, standing and Jay followed.

“Yeah. Thanks, Kim, I needed this.” He gave her a squeeze around the shoulders, Kim smiling as she left the apartment. They’d never really spent much time together, but Jay had always had her back and Kim would always appreciate him for that. This unit was more than just work to her, they were people who had her back, and she had theirs.

Staring at her screen as Kim got ready to leave she just wanted to be sick. Antonio had been released from hospital, she was getting her partner back. But watching Valerie standing there, holding onto her father, the waste of life that had occurred. She wouldn’t grieve for Pablo, but she did for their vic, for the businesses that’d been upended thanks to the racket. And the privileged girl with the rich daddy got away with everything, because that’s how their world worked.

She’d just picked up her badge, sliding her gun into her holster when her phone rang with Jay’s name on the screen.

“Hey. You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. I saw the press conference, I didn’t think you’d want to be alone. I’m heading out to a bar, want to meet for a drink?” She nodded, a small smile on her face.

“Yeah, sounds good. Are you allowed drink with your side? I saw the way you were walking today.”

“I’m off the painkillers, so yeah. After a case like this? It’s good to just get it out.”

She got the name of the bar from him, waving in to Voight and Platt as she went down the back stairs to get outside. The last thing she wanted to do was to actually talk to them about the day. This was easier.

When she arrived Jay had a beer waiting for her at the table, and she slid into the seat with an appreciative grin. “I’ll get the next one.”

They didn’t talk about the actual case until they were three drinks in, focusing on the Blackhawks game instead.

“You ok? I mean with everything today. I know you spent a lot of time with Valerie.” Jay took a sip of his beer after asking, Kim looking at him closely.

“Yeah? I think. I just…all those kids. That could have been a bloodbath today, and there’s nothing we could have done to stop it. I just focused on getting them out and getting them safe, and they got home ok. That’s the important bit. But she just walks away because her daddy’s rich.” Her voice was bitter and she knew it, but Kim couldn’t bring herself to care too much. These were the cases that got them all.

“You were really good with those kids. They were scared and you kept them safe, got them out of danger. Good job.” They clinked bottles and Kim took a long drink.

“I mean I figured by now I’d be a mom. Just another thing I haven’t done.” When she looked up from her bottle she saw Jay staring at her, and the words fell off her tongue. “When Adam and I were engaged, we had a plan. We were gonna be engaged for a year and then get married, and then we’d start trying for kids after we’d been married for six months. It just made me realise that if things had gone according to plan, I’d be a mom. I don’t regret it being over, but sometimes it’s the what if.” Jay nodded, his hand squeezing hers.

“I get it. Erin and I had the future plans talk. I was gonna propose to her the night she left Chicago. You think your life is going perfectly to plan, and then it’s just not. And you have to keep moving on. I still don’t know how you’re able to work with him.”

“That’s a conversation for another drink. Beer?” She went to the bar, getting fresh bottles and settling her mind. Once she returned Jay raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s fine, honestly.” He smiled, but Kim felt settled about letting it all out.

“It’s fine. We’re completely over at this point. He was my person. He was the guy I was gonna marry, the guy whose kids I was gonna have. But I don’t regret ending the engagement, and we respect each other enough to know that the job comes first. We did the on off thing, but it wasn’t good for either of us. After Al died I had to make a decision. I prefer our friendship to anything else.”

They both took a long drink at that, the memories of past relationships haunting both of them. Instead they changed the topic of conversation to the case, to what they’d done.

“Brennan called me a detective, I guess I should appreciate the vote of confidence? She looked at me weird when I told her I was an officer,” Kim laughed at the memory, watching Jay smile.

“You do the work, eventually the three of you should do the exam. It’s not really fair if you don’t.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Once they finished their drinks they decided to go home, a rare day off ahead of them both. The last thing either of them wanted was to spend the day off doing nothing with a hangover, so the tabs were paid and cabs were called. Jay’s arrived first, but he made Kim get into it, and she promised to text him when she got home safe. Even with her gun and badge they’d always worried about their team. When she got in the door of her apartment she pulled out her phone, pulling up their text thread that had started staying near the top of her messages.

Home safe, drinking water and going to bed. Thanks for tonight, I needed it.

More than welcome, Kim. We should keep doing this, it’s a good time.

Her day off was exactly what she needed, cleaning and doing the chores she hadn’t had time for during the week. Once she was done she got ready to meet Hailey for dinner. They’d started it after a tough case, and once a month or so the two would meet, get food and a few drinks, and relax together. Intelligence was a hard unit to be in, it was harder when you were a woman, an they were able to commiserate with each other.

Hailey had arrived first, grabbing a table at the Mexican place they usually met at, Kim’s strawberry margarita sitting waiting for her.

“I didn’t order yet, wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for.” Kim nodded, taking a sip of her drink.

“Yeah, corn carnitas sounds really good right about now. What about you?”

They ordered and drank, not really chatting as they did. Hailey’s phone kept buzzing, and the detective turned it over on the table.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah. I’m sort of seeing someone now, but it’s new. I told him I was meeting a friend for dinner, he wants to know what time I’m finished at.” There was a small smile on Hailey’s face, and Kim was happy for her friend.

“Is he good to you? Do I know him?”

“He is. I don’t know if it’s going to be more than sleeping together, but he’s good, sex is good. We’ll see where things go from here.”

“I’m happy for you.” They finished eating, promising to do it again sooner and actually have a conversation instead of being stuck in their own heads.

The next two weeks went by in a continuous motion of cases and cases and work and more cases, Kim’s head getting spun around. The conversation with Brennan knocked her back, and having Kendra in the car at the shooting made it even worse.

After the IRT interview she felt sick, the realisation of what she’d done sinking in. She’d never been a kiss ass. She’d never been the person who did things just because it’d get her credit with someone. But this time she had, and she was stuck trying to make it right.

The dressing down from Voight made her barely able to hold back her anger and frustration, the tears she wanted to let fall. She deserved it, that she was well aware of. She deserved every moment of frustration and anger from him. But the part that stung the most was the disappointment from her Sergeant. She’d fucked up, she knew she fucked up, but having Voight say he’d bury her? She knew he would. And she knew she deserved it. Kim still wasn’t quite sure how she was even still in Intelligence, she thought he would have bumped her for it. And she wouldn’t have argued with him about it.

Sitting in the coffee shop with Trudy she relaxed, her phone buzzing with Jay’s name appearing, but Kim just darkened the screen, she’d check it later.

“I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed I did it, I’m ashamed I let the glitz and the glamour fool me. Ever since I moved up I’ve trusted Voight, I’ve followed his lead. This is the first time I didn’t, and it’s shown me how. I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have needed you and Voight to clean up my mess.”

“Did you learn your lesson?” Kim took a sip of her coffee, nodding at Trudy. “Then don’t dwell on it. Everyone has a time when they trust someone they shouldn’t have. Brennan was looking out for herself. Don’t let her behaviour ruin your future.”

“Thanks, Sarge. It’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him at me.”

“It’s Voight, he does that. It’ll be fine when you’re back in work. Do you need to get that?” Trudy asked as her phone lit up again for a third time.

“Let me check it.” Kim opened it up, checking the texts from Jay.

I heard about IRT if you want to talk

Or if you don’t and just want pizza. You did it for me I want to return the favour.

I’m gonna assume you’re fine, but call me if you want to talk about it.

She smiled at them, quickly firing back a text.

I’m good. Getting coffee with Platt. Thanks.

“Jay checking in on me. With everything going on we’ve been talking more.”

They finished their coffees and went home, Kim feeling a bit more relaxed. She would have kept the relaxation going, would have been stuck into work and just focused on what they were doing and their case. If it hadn’t ended up going downhill fast.

She was glad they were all celebrating Platt. The woman had been her inspiration since she’d joined the 21st, and Hailey had mentioned how important Platt was to her too. They’d expected the call to the motel to be easy, she hadn’t expected bullets to fly at her when she wasn’t even wearing a vest. It just seemed to get worse from there.

Sitting in the van listening to Hailey and Adam worried her. It seemed too easy, and the moment when the wire went dead made her heart stop. It was two of her good friends in there, and having no ears was terrifying. Going from a drug ring to Adam’s dad being involved made her head spin. But it was done and Bob was going to be ok and they got Spiro and his gang, and things felt a little bit easier for once. Not for long enough, but maybe for a while. Hailey had agreed to meet Adam at the hospital and let them know what was going on, and Kim decided to pack up. She’d had enough for the day. Enough for the week, if she was honest.

“You ok?” Jay asked as she stood, and she smiled over at him.

“Yeah. Tired and looking forward to a glass of wine. It’s been just a month of it, y’know? Want to go get a few drinks and apps?” He stood immediately, nodding.

“Definitely.”

It didn’t take long for them to make it to a brewery Jay knew about, ordering their food and a sampler of beers to split. It was quiet for a few minutes, but Kim could tell he wasn’t ok.

“Talk to me. What’s going on?” She watched him for a moment, gave him the space to collect his thoughts.

“It’s my dad’s Month’s Mind tomorrow. A month after a death there’s a Mass that’s for them, just as a memory of them. Will’s going, but we’re having an argument at the minute. I can’t really talk about the why, there’s a case ongoing, but it’s…there’s a lot happening. So he’s not exactly in a good place with me right now. I’m going, but it’ll be awkward.” He took a long drink, and Kim made a snap decision.

“Want me to come? I’m not Catholic, I’ve no idea what it even involves, but I can be moral support. At least that way you don’t need to talk to him if you don’t want to, and you can turn up.” Kim watched Jay’s face light up, and felt more sure in her decision.

“You sure? I don’t want you to have to, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’m sure. Tell me when and where I have to turn up. Do I need a dress code?”

“Nah, jeans and a sweater. Just not like a crop top or anything, but you get it.” She nodded, grabbing a mozzarella stick.

“Sounds good.”

The next evening she was standing outside St. Mary’s church, waiting for Jay to arrive. She wasn’t waiting long, and they walked inside side by side and slid into a pew. She saw Will and Natalie walk in just behind them, sitting a few rows up from them. The service passed quickly, Kim copying Jay every time he stood or knelt. They sat still in the pew when Communion happened, and once it was over they walked out together. Will didn’t even call them, but she knew she’d probably get asked why she’d come next time she was in Med. Jay was her friend, that was the important part. He’d been good to her when she needed it, and she was more than willing to return the favour.

Chapter 2>>

Taglist: @kellykidd @resanoona @pinkwhitebrown @harleyquinnpuddin @dedlund82

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 57 (Final)

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You find your relic.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

You’d only been to the ancient Sanctum a few times, with strict access to the library for your studies and nowhere else, and normally you would be excited to visit the unofficial headquarters of the Mystic Arts.

But now, as you followed Wong to the room of portals that would lead to the Nepal sanctum, your stomach twisted and your heart raced. You couldn’t even enjoy the fact this was where Strange had gone on his near-disastrous pilgrimage. The idea of the Ancient One kicking him out on his ass was an entertaining one, though you were still glad she eventually trained him. As irritated as you were about a lot of things regarding the former surgeon, he and Wong both had taught you nearly everything you knew.

Plus, you’d seen the scars on his hands. As arrogant and egotistical as he appeared, Strange had suffered to get where he was. Not unlike yourself. Not unlike Bucky.

The Orb of Agamotto hung within the circular room where other sorcerers consulted with it, verifying that the magical Earthly shields were still intact. Past them were three doors leading to the other sanctums, including the one in Kathmandu.

You and Bucky followed Wong through, the familiar feeling of displacement shifting your stomach and throwing you off balance for a moment. Neither Wong nor Bucky were as unsteady as you were. It had been something you were embarrassed about, but according to Strange during one of your lessons, it simply meant you were more sensitive to spatial displacement.

As Wong led you both through the ancient stone hallways, past the commons where other sorcerers were in training, doubt crept along your nerves. Someday, possibly sooner than you were prepared, all of these people were going to follow you. Look to you for guidance, for teaching. For protection.

How were you supposed to become the next Ancient One if you couldn’t even walk through a portal without getting dizzy?

This wasn’t going to work. The idea was crazy enough to begin with. The Ancient One had to be wrong. You were going to step into her office and nothing would happen. You would make a fool of yourself; you weren’t any more talented or skilled than any other sorcerer. Just half a year ago, you’d had no idea demons and magic were even real.

And now, you were expected to carry on the mantle as one of the most powerful sorcerers on Earth? How was that even possible? How could you ever be worthy enough to—

Wong opened a door using a complicated series of hand gestures, and as soon as you stepped through, your panicked mind fell silent. Energy thrummed along your skin, setting the hairs upright.

“Here it is.”

Wong’s announcement was unnecessary; you would know this place in your dreams, even though you had never been.

It was a simple room with a single large, circular window pointed towards the mountains over the city. Potted plants perched on most available surfaces that weren’t covered with books, scrolls, and odd knickknacks.

There was only a single writing desk pushed to the side, humble and unobtrusive. The rest of the room was empty space with a single well-worn green rug in the middle. But the plants made everything seem alive and verdant. It felt very much like a place the Ancient One would spend her time. It was a reflection of her, in a way. Quiet, but hidden with secret truths.

“Take a look around,” Wong said, but you were already moving. Slowly and with intense focus, you circled the room, reaching out and feeling, not with your hands but with your mind.

Odd and powerful energy pervaded the room, muted by spells but still apparent to you. They were coming from the artifacts that were laid out, seemingly casually, on the shelves and desks.

Most of them seemed as plain and unimportant as the room itself. A cracked vase with the lip stained red. A golden helmet that was varnished and faded, but two glittering horns jutted from the temples. A knobby staff with a smooth, grey stone fixed at one end, as modest as any walking stick except for the melodic hum that emanated from the stone. You had a feeling neither Wong nor Bucky could hear it.

But despite all the weird, wonderful oddities in your reach, you were drawn elsewhere. You approached one corner of the room where lay a pile of old scrolls and their cloth wrappings, and moved them aside with care to reveal what was hidden underneath.

It was a sword hilt. Just the hilt. There was no blade, not even a piece of broken metal. The metal was dulled with time and flaked with rust, the pommel grey and dirty.

You reached out and hesitated. Fingertips inches away, something stopped you. The knowledge that once you took hold of the relic, everything would change.

You glanced over your shoulder at Bucky.

He was watching you with close attention, as was Wong, but when he caught your eye he gave a small smile of encouragement. He supported you, even though he had to know what this meant, or at least had a good idea of it.

Not every sorcerer found their relic within the Ancient One’s study.

Comfort and warmth, so strong it could only be described as love, flooded across the bond and washed away your fears. You returned his smile, even if it was shaky, and you held on to that feeling as you turned back to the hilt.

You closed the distance, wrapped your fingers around the relic, and lifted it.

It was surprisingly heavy; that was your only observation before it began. The hilt thrummed in your palm, vibrating so fast you nearly dropped it.

The rust flaked away from the metal, leaving it polished and silver. The grey pommel was shaken of its dirt, and you realized it was white bone, the metal wrapping around it to form the grip and crossguard.

The thrumming didn’t stop, but you couldn’t let go even if you wanted to. Your fingers seized around the metal, energy teeming up your hand and arm. When it reached your right shoulder, all the way up to your pentagram, the sigil burned in a way it hadn’t done since the ritual.

Bucky must have sensed your panic because he rushed forward, but you backed away from him fast, instinct screaming at you to put a safe distance between you now.

It was a good thing you had; the energy from your sigil exploded down your arm, through your hand, and into the hilt. A burst of red light shot outward, forcing you to turn away from the blinding beam.

When the light dimmed and you could see again, blinking away the after images, you stared at the sword. That’s what it was now. A glowing red blade, seemingly made entirely of light. The energy that came from it was purely of the demon realm, scorching and sulfuric.

“What…” You choked the words past your dry throat. “What is this?”

There were only a handful of times you’d ever seen Wong shocked. So, that was three powerful sorcerers you’d rendered speechless in the span of a day.

“The blade of Hell, or so it is spoken. None in the history of the order had been able to unlock its powers, rendering it anything more than a broken hilt.” He leveled you with a somber stare. “It is called Daemonio Vexatur. Which means—“

“—to become a demon.”

Wong raised a brow.

“Rough translation, but yes.”

“So, it’s a demon sword?” asked Bucky, eyeing the glowing blade. He was understandably wary, and honestly, was accepting what was happening better than you were. You were still stuck on the fact that you were holding a glowing-freaking-sword in your hand.

“Yes. And no,” Wong said in traditional teaching-fashion. “A demon cannot wield it, but it takes demonic energy to power.”

“Oh. So that’s why my sigil and my entire arm feel like they’re on fire.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and he took a step forward, protectiveness sizzling along the bond, and you gave him a hurried smile.

“Kidding. Sort of.” You smiled wider through your clenched teeth. “It is really uncomfortable.”

Bucky’s dark look told you he didn’t believe you, and with what you imagined was coming from your end of the bond, you didn’t blame him. Holding the sword was like holding on to a live wire that was also burning. There was a molten jolt connecting the hilt to your sigil, and you were just hoping to not get incinerated in the process.

And just like that, the connection was gone, and the relief of your arm no longer being on fire was dimmed by the disappointment as the sword was extinguished, leaving nothing more than a gleaming hilt.

“What happened?” You frowned, eyeing the relic as if searching for an on switch.

“It will take time and training to effectively control your relic.”

“How long?” You looked up when Wong didn’t answer immediately, catching the serious dent in his brow.

“It’s hard to say. No one in living memory has wielded the blade, and it was believed no one ever would.”

Wong gave a heavy sigh.

“So of course, you would be the one to wield it.”

You returned your gaze to the relic and turned over the hilt in your hand, admiring the metal and bone. You wondered if the bone was from a demon, a safe bet considering.

“So.” You carefully put down the hilt and turned to give Bucky your best serious face. “How does it feel to have a wizard girlfriend with a lightsaber?”

Wong rolled his eyes. He knew you well enough by now to know what you were doing, but he didn’t comment on your attempts to over your fear with humor. He muttered something about reporting to Strange as he left the office.

But Bucky…

Worry and fondness conflicted across the bond, struggling to coexist. He stepped forward, the green cloth tunic he’d found in one of the drawers of your room stretched unfairly tight across his chest. It was the largest he could find in a hurry, and it was nearly enough to distract you from your own anxieties.

“I think…” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, drawing you into an embrace that you melted into easily. “That I’m scared for you. I’m confused as hell what this means, and I’m guessing this isn’t going to make your life any easier or less complicated. But… I’m also proud of you.”

You could sense the pride easily, but Bucky was trying to bury the fear that was close to terror. He truly was scared of what this meant. You were too, and the Ancient One’s words weighed heavily on your shoulders.

There was a questioning feeling tugging at your thoughts, and you remembered too late that Bucky could sense the same anxiety, even if he didn’t have all the details. So you smoothed out your tumultuous thoughts and covered them the best way you knew how.

“You say that to all the wizard girlfriends.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“That is what swords do.”

Bucky pulled back far enough to stare at you with narrowed eyes, but when he touched his horns to yours it was with such gentleness that you nearly forgot to breathe. But breathe you did, drinking in his familiar, soothing scent and allowed the tension to drain from your muscle.

“We should head back.” Bucky said after a moment of intimate, comfortable silence in which you finally relaxed. “Got a bastard to catch.”

You reluctantly let go first, knowing he was right and you couldn’t stay here forever. Turning toward the sword hilt, you reached for it and paused. You took a small detour and picked up an old, ratty cloth nearby and carefully wrapped the relic within. Until you had a better grasp of how to wield the sword, it was probably a wiser idea to not handle it directly. You had no idea if it was sentient like Strange’s cloak, and it would be better not to accidentally set it off. Slicing off your own leg was a poor way to convince anyone that you were the next Ancient One.

On your journey back down the halls toward the portal door, Bucky said, “So… what are you going to name it?”

He smiled at your sideways glance.

“All cool swords get a name. It’s kind of a universal rule.”

Maybe you didn’t know Bucky as well as you thought you did, because you had no idea he was such a damn nerd.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bestow all your sword knowledge on me.”

“Is that a sexual innuendo?”

“It is now.”

Bucky’s smile died on his lips when you were no longer at his side. He paused and looked back where you had stopped at the threshold to the portal room.

“What if I can’t do this?” The doorway before you was no longer just a doorway. It was an insurmountable hurdle, and your feet wouldn’t budge from the floor. “What if I fail?”

Bucky approached slow and steady, his expression gentle and fond.

“You won’t. You’re too stubborn to fail.” A warm hand softly cupped your cheek, his human one, and you leaned into it. He laughed silently at your predictable need to be touched, but his expression faded into something more serious. “But on the very slim chance you do, then you get back up and you start again. Just as you always have.”

Your stomach fell. Bucky couldn’t understand what failure meant in your case. You didn’t even know what it meant, but you could guess. If you failed to be the Ancient One everyone needed… then there might not be any second chances.

Bucky wrapped you in his arms one more time, undoubtedly sensing his words of encouragement hadn’t hit as effectively as he’d wanted.

“Whatever this means, you finding that relic… Whatever happens when we find Zemo...” Bucky’s voice was deep in his chest, a rumbling sound that never failed to comfort you. “I’ll be here.”

You returned his embrace, gripping him tightly as you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“I know.”

And you did, too. Bucky would be there for you. Not because he was compelled to be, and not out of a sense of duty or guilt to protect you. He would be by your side by choice.

And that fact made Zemo’s escape, the Ancient One’s words, and your own self-doubt a little easier to bear. Because you and Bucky would weather it.

Together.

“When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful.” –David Bowles

[cleanlenins]

Ectober Day 6: Witching Hour

Words Spoken at the Witching Hour

Chapter 2

Jack and Maddie disproved Ouija boards in College, but why not give them another try? However, fixing their mistakes will take more than just an old board and some candles.

AO3

While her violent outburst had been cathartic, Maddie was regretting her rash decision to destroy the ancient spirit board. She sifted through the ashes, pulling larger pieces of charred wood from the pile and dumping them into the bin. Her gloves were covered in soot and charcoal, the dusty particles sliding over the rubbery texture. She grabbed the planchet, and examined it. The dark ash seemed grey next to the impossible black of the little cursor. She clenched her fist around it and started to toss it into the trash can. But hesitated.

“Mom? Oh my God, what happened here?” Maddie whipped around to see Jazz standing at the door to the kitchen. She had one hand covering her mouth as she gaped at the mess. The table, while still standing, had a huge whole burned into the center. Maddie knew that she must look a sight as well, eyes puffy and red from lack of sleep and soot stains on her cheek.

“We had a bit of an accident with our experiment last night,” Maddie said smoothly. It was what she and Jack had decided to tell the kids until they had a chance to sort through their thoughts. Before they had a chance to figure out if there was any validity to Phantom’s claim.

When Maddie had bought the spirit board, the lady had told her that spirits could not lie while communicating through the object. Maddie had never expected the blasted thing to work, so she hadn’t set up any more trustworthy methods for determining if a ghost was lying or not. An oversight on her part based on her own hubris.

“I thought you guys agreed that you would keep all of your experiments in the lab from now on?” Jazz crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry sweetie. We didn’t realize it was something that would turn...explosive. We will be sure to keep things downstairs from now on,” Maddie assured Jazz. Jazz looked skeptical, but did not press the point. Instead, she skirted around the stains on the linoleum and began to make her some breakfast. Maddie glanced at the planchet still held in her hand, and stashed it in her pocket.

Maddie removed her gloves and tossed them in the special tub she and Jack kept for their hazmat suits. She quickly washed her hands before putting on a clean pair. She rubbed her tired eyes, moving around Jazz to get to the coffee pot. How did she get through so many sleepless nights in college? She already felt dead on her feet. She must be getting old.

She reached to flick on the coffee pot, before jerking away as  the coffee pot shocked her. Not hard, nothing more than simple static electricity. But it startled her.

“Mom? Are you okay?” Jazz asked.

“Fine, Jazzy,” Maddie stared at the machine in shock and reached out to touch it again. No shock occurred. “I think I might need to change the filtrator in the coffee machine battery. It just shocked me a bit.”

“Through rubber gloves?” Jazz raised an eyebrow. Maddie’s mind buffered, looking down at her hands.

“Maybe a more serious issue,” Maddie muttered. Jazz sighed.

“And I was really looking forward to coffee,” The teen slumped, still scrambling eggs. Loud steps were coming from the stairs, and Maddie turned to see Danny walking into the kitchen.

Well, walking probably wasn’t the best word. He was slumped over, backpack hanging from one shoulder. His eyes were rimmed in red and heavy bags laid under his eyes. He slumped into a dining chair, not even commenting on the hole in the table before laying his head in his hands.

“Danny, are you okay?” Jazz asked. Mother and Daughter wore matching looks of concern. The black haired teenager mumbled something incomprehensible. Maddie hesitantly walked over, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He was freezing. Cold enough that she could feel his temperature even through the thick gloves. Maddie swallowed thickly.

“Honey, did you not sleep well?” Maddie asked. Danny sat up, blearily looking up at his Mom.

“Weird dreams,” He mumbled, blinking up at his mom. Maddie rubbed his arm

“What kind of dreams?” She pressed. Danny grunted.

“Just...bad memories. Mistakes.”

“Was it...about the CATs?” Maddie startled, Jazz was suddenly by her side putting a plate of eggs in front of Danny. He looked down at his plate, but didn’t reach for them.

“No. The other thing. The first thing,” Danny said.

“What thing are you talking about?” Maddie asked. Dany didn’t react, but Jazz looked sheepish.

“Danny has had a lot of test anxiety over the last few years. I have been helping him work through it,” Jazz said quickly. She avoided Maddie’s eye and turned on heel to go back and grab another plate. “You don’t need to worry, Mom.”

Maddie looked at Danny, who was pushing his food around on his plate and slumping closer and closer to the table. And knew she was very worried.

~~~

Once the kids had left for school, Maddie unplugged the coffee maker and carried it down into the lab. Jazz had to nearly drag Danny out of his chair, her brother stumbling into her before catching his balance. Jazz had continuously uttered assurances that Danny was fine and did not need to go to the doctor. Jazz had chattered continuously, Maddie unable to get a word in as they slammed the front door behind her.

With a sigh, she set the coffee pot on the table. Jack was already in the lab, looking just as ragged as she. He was pouring over security footage from the lab, trying to find any evidence of Danny being Phantom.

“How’s it going?” Maddie asked. She massaged her hand.

“We really should have labelled these tapes,” Jack frowned. “We didn’t even order them. I keep switching between tapes from the last few months, to one before Danny was even born. This could take days. Weeks, even.”

Maddie nodded. She had been afraid of something like that. Instead of joining her husband by the small tv, she walked over to where she had kept the notes on the spirit board. She rubbed her hands together, before reaching to pick up the top page.

And dropped it immediately. Her hand trembled. Part of her didn’t want to know the truth. Because if all of this was true. If she and Jack had-

“Mads, come look,” Jack said, more chipper than before. Maddie turned away from the papers, holding her hand close to her chest. Jack had a video paused on the screen. He let it play.

It was Danny, when he was five or six. Jack and Maddie were working on a project in the corner, while Danny was running around. He had a toy rocket in hand, making zooming noises as he sent the little astronauts on a space exploration. He prattled on, making up ridiculous plots where aliens attacked, where wormholes opened to other galaxies, where he had to be a superhero to save the earth from a meteor. Maddie smiled at the memory. Until she watched Danny trip over a spare bit of wire and faceplant into the floor. He started wailing, past Maddie and Jack whirling around and scooping him into a big hug. Maddie felt tears in her eyes. She removed one of her gloves to wipe them away.

“What if we failed him, Jack?” Maddie’s voice trembled. Jack turned a baleful look up at his wife before stopping. An expression of shock on his face.

“Maddie. Your hand,” He jumped out of his seat to get closer. Maddie looked down at her hand.

A circular burn sat in the middle of her palm. Small Lichtenberg figures scattered from the center. But the most striking thing was that the figures were pulsing a bright green. Maddie stared at the mark in horror. Once more she felt a jolt in her hands, her fingers twitching, and the mark grew.

“Jack,” Maddie whispered in fright. Jack took her hand in his, examining it closely. “What is it?”

Jack let go of Maddie’s hand, before running over to the notes himself. He rummaged through them quickly. Maddie felt herself shaking, looking down at the unnatural mark on her hand. Jack let out a noise of triumph as he held up a piece of paper.

“Make sure to end your contact with the spirit when you are finished conversing. If not, you may attach the spirit to yourself. This can have many consequences, depending on the power of the spirit. It can result in something as mundane as constant bad luck or-” Jack faltered, gaping at the page.

“What? What is it Jack?”

“-or as severe as dying the same death,” Jack gulped. “Maddie. Maddie we didn’t do any of the things to close the ritual. You’re still connected.”

I just wanted to look inside. I tripped over a wire. I hit the button on the inside. The portal turned on. And I died.

“ He was electrocuted,” Maddie sobbed, hand spasming. “It’s true, isn’t it? We killed our baby?”

Jack had tears streaming down his face as he rushed forward and crushed Maddie into a hug. She sobbed into his chest. In grief. In guilt. In exhaustion. In fear. Her whole body shook with the force of her tears. Had Jack not been holding her, she would have collapsed onto the ground in a puddle of tears.

“We have to find a way to stop this. To stop the connection,” Jack said. He rushed over to the papers, fanning them out so he could see more than one of them at a time. Maddie joined him, her hand occasionally spasming.

The two of them poured over the notes, double checking them with the Nightingale notebook to see if they could find any correlation to the spirit board. But the notebook only condemned the use of such objects, and did nothing at all to say how to counter their effects. Burning it was briefly mentioned on an online source, but considering it was already a pile of ash that seemed unlikely. Maddie and Jack started to comb through more and more sources, each less reputable than the last. As time crept on, the spasms became more painful. The lighting marks spread up her forearm, up her shoulder, nearly touching her neck. Tears were constantly pouring from her eyes as she barely contained herself from screaming in agony.

The two started when they heard the door upstairs slam. Maddie looked up, sweat pouring down her face. Jack slapped his forehead.

“Of course. We should ask Danny. Maybe he knows something,” The man said, sprinting up the stairs. Maddie hobbled after him, leaning heavily into the wall as she made her way up the stairs. She slowly made her ascent, and opened the lab door.

Jazz was talking to Jack, but she was not alone. Sam and Tucker were standing in the kitchen, Danny’s unconscious body held between them. Maddie gasped at the sight.

“So he is like this because you and Mom did some hairbrained ritual that literally blew up in your faces?” Jazz was angry. Her face was nearly the color of her hair, red with the force of her rage.

“Jazz, we didn’t know,” Maddie whispered. Jazz finally noticed her mom entering the room and gasped in horror. Both Tucker and Sam wore similar expressions.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Jazz rushed over to Maddie, offering her shoulder. Jack filled the teens in on what they had discovered, how Danny was now attached to Maddie, and how it was slowly killing her.

“Please, if you know any way to undo this,” Jack pleaded. This was their last chance.

“I do,” Sam said. Jack beamed, eyes brightened with hope. “But we will have to work fast. Things like this have a time limit.”

“How long?”

“We have to separate them before the Witching Hour of the next day, or else there is nothing that we can do,” Sam said confidently. Jack glanced at the clock. It was already six pm.

“That gives us nine hours, right? We should be able to do that,” Jazz said. But Sam frowned.

“I have to go to my house and get a lot of supplies, and it will take time to set it all up. And I can’t guarantee it will work. It’s not like I have ever actually had to do this,” Sam said.

“Please,” Maddie begged, as she looked at Danny’s slumped body. “Try.”

~~~

The setup had taken them the better part of six hours. Every ingredient had to be burned for a specific amount of time. Every line painted on the floor had to be at the perfect angle. The candles could only burn for so long, with certain herbs mixed in. The remains of the spirit board had to be collected into one space. It was time consuming. It was tedious. And there was no guarantee it would work.

Maddie and Danny were not able to help with the preparations. Danny because he had not woken up since Sam and Tucker had brought him home. He was resting on the couch, completely out of touch with the world. Maddie, however, was not in such a peaceful state.

It was taking all of her effort not to simply curl up and scream. It felt like both fire and ice had poured into her veins, both trying to kill her from the heat and the cold. Her skin looked ashen and pale, sweat and tears constantly pouring down her face. She shook and seized from the volts of electricity that started at her hand and burst through her whole body. She couldn’t stop the whimpers that escaped, causing the others in the room to look over at her with concern.

When the preparations were complete, Jack helped Maddie into the middle of the setup. The electric lights in the room were turned off, with only the candles glow illuminating the room. Maddie nearly crawled to the spot she was supposed to be. She pulled out the little planchet and placed it within arms reach.

Sam had done everything she could, but Maddie had made the connection. Maddie had to sever it.

Maddie took the sterile knife and cut the inside of her arm. She let the blood pour into a basin that held the remains of the spirit bored. Her quivering hands spilled some blood onto the floor and not just in the bowl. But not enough to ruin the painted words. Maddie used her fingers to mix the blood with the ash, creating a paint. With trembling hands, she reached one finger onto the floor and began to draw the Ogham script she remembered from the spirit board. Slowly, as she could afford no mistakes, she drew a new board on the floor. Each one had to be in the exact order as the board had been and she had never been so grateful to Jack for taking a picture of the thing before they used it. Inch by inch, she recreated the board on her kitchen floor.

Now, she had to wait. Wait until the blood had dried enough that she could roll the planchet across the words without smudging. Every second was an eternity of pain, every moment a new level of agony even higher than the last. It might have been five minutes. It might have been an hour. But eventually, she could tell that the bright red of her blood had faded to a sickly brown. She risked touching it, and found it completely dry. She grabbed the planchet, and place a single bloody finger on it.

“Phantom, I would like to speak to you today. Please, I beg you, talk to me,” Maddie’s voice cracked. She waited a breathless moment, before the cursor began to move.

Mom?

“Yes, it’s me,” Maddie bit her lip hard as her body was wracked with pain.

You’re hurt

“ I’m fine sweetie,” Maddie lied. She had to finish this. She didn’t know how much time she had. “Phantom, I have said all that I have to say. My questions are complete. I close this doorway. I close this connection. Your spirit is not bound here.”

Maddie thought she heard a gasp, but she didn’t know where. Suddenly, all the candles turned once more into the strange corona glow. The planchet moved once more.

Goodbye

Maddie watched in fascination as the planchet dissolved into dust. The candles snuffed themselves out and the room was filled with darkness. Maddie slumped in relief as the pain seemed to melt away.

“Mom?” Danny groaned, the light flickering on. Danny stood by the switch, rubbing his eyes as he took in the state of the kitchen.

Jack and Maddie rushed him, crushing him in a hug they hoped expressed everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

[hanazou]

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬.

Genre : Comfort, fluff, romance

Word Count : 1.9K

A response to this request.

— 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠, 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧, 𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛?

The days when time slows down is the most dangerous, you thought to yourself, because you can feel your soul rotting away, your will and lack of passion eating your bones, and yet the mind musters no good enough reason to pull your pieces back together.

It is a common story, your own. Your days have been cut shorter and your nights lasted much longer. The desire to sleep the sluggishness away monopolizes your energy, leaving none left to have your meals, diverting your eyes from mirrors so you don’t have to be reminded of your buffering state; one that lacks the passion to even stretch an arm.

You no longer drink morning coffee ever since its sweet-bitter taste is lessened to plain, distasteful bitterness, and the smell of your favourite food no longer makes your appetite moist. The insatiable thought of letting your bed suck in your slothful body washes away each wants and needs.

All those explain why you look the way you do now. You had the chance to make your eyes less saggy and to hide the dark circles, you could have pressed cold spoons and applied some concealer, but it was a chore to even toss aside the blanket glued to your body to drag yourself to the shower. You shouldn’t have slept that long, you barely washed your hair off the filth you gathered from sleeping on the same dusty pillow.

Even the possibility of running into Chuuya today wouldn’t get you on your feet. No, that’s inaccurate—it’s because you might meet Chuuya that you don’t want him to see you in this state. Your beloved won’t leave you alone the moment he sees you like this, which in itself isn’t a bad thing, but how will you explain everything to him? This dormant state, this feeling of wanting space and time to swallow you whole?

Your deepest wish is actually to have him around your arms. Just the thought of silently letting his warmth comfort you soothe you more than any blanket could, but you can’t afford to do that today when you’re in the headquarters looking like someone who’s considering starving themselves to eternal sleep.

Your reflection in the bathroom mirror earlier made your lips twist. You did brush your hair and wash your face and yet, you are still far from looking presentable to the Boss. Unfit to see him, unfit as a mafioso, unfit to be here at all. You did pat down your shirt and pants with a pessimistic hope the Boss will only reprimand you and not send you away on a probation period.

You couldn’t recall when your automated legs brought you here, but here you stand, listening to the Boss briefing you today’s agenda. The explanation feels like hazy flowing clouds of words that blow pass you. You can’t rearrange your wandering thoughts, can’t even feel your numbness away. You simply understand that there are vermins trying to intimidate Port Mafia’s weapons dealer and that the Boss is sending you there to give them a good hit on their faces.

Only when he mentions Chuuya’s name do the wires in your brain spark.

“Chuuya?” You blink.

“Chuuya-kun insists that you will need company, he came earlier than you did to convince me that.” The Boss grins, chin on his hand. “I have the same judgement as to him, but that aside, have you looked at yourself in the mirror today?”

Barbells weigh down your shoulders. That was his way of asking, ‘what makes you think you’re fit for a job today?’ The Boss is the personification of logic. How will he accept your explanation if even you don’t know why you’re feeling the way you do, as if you’re a homeless unemployed bum without responsibilities?

“I’m sorry,” You lower your head.

“Not a problem with me, actually, as long as the job is done.” He smiles. “You can go, Chuuya-kun must be waiting for you somewhere.”

After a respectful bow, you leave through the large mahogany doors. The corridor outside, dark and orange as usual, although narrow, feels too large without Chuuya next to you.

You and Chuuya usually walk out of the Boss’s office together, you smiling at the comfort he gives, discussing what you two would be doing after the day’s job. You feel like a forlorn. An abandoned. A lone traveller whose journey is just to get to the end of the corridor when it was you who tossed away the one whose presence is sure to bring recovery.

“Not going to say hi?” The voice you’ve been craving echoes from behind. You jolt. You’re happy. You want him to bask you in his presence. But you’re afraid. How will he react to your condition?

You debate with yourself, should you turn around and face him? You don’t want to make your worry contagious, but you will have to face him either way for the job. The tips of your feet face opposite directions, unsure where to face, but before you come to a decision, Chuuya appears right in front of you.

Your conscience twists like a sponge when Chuuya’s smile abruptly turns to shock as his eyes lay on you. He gapes your name, not sure what to address, and you turn and walk some distance between you.

“I’m okay, I just slept too much,”

Like a wilting flower, you hide your face.

“Are you kidding? Nobody looks like that from sleeping in too long!” Chuuya’s voice escalates just like you feared. You wish your earlobes can curl in to push away the guilt hearing him makes you feel. Oh, alas, he’s approaching—“What the hell’s been going on?”

“Nothing.” You cower away. “I’ve been feeling slow, that’s all.”

You omit the important parts because Chuuya didn’t sign up for them. He didn’t date you for you to become a lousy, disordered sloth. He wants the smiling and comforting you, not the you who needs him to smile and comfort you.

If you could just push him away for enough time for you to put yourself together—

Chuuya seizes the hand that’s about to put some distance. “You don’t think I can help you, is that it?”

You instantaneously look at him. “I never said that!”

“You know, I hate it when people lie to me, and I don’t like being kept in the dark just the same.” He says.

The way his eyes pierce your conscience makes your head avert away but he clenches your hand tighter. When you glance back at him, slowly that is, his hold softens. “But do you know what I’m feeling right now? Something like self-disappointment. For not noticing earlier that you’re having—those kinds of days.”

“Have you had one?” You ask, interest piqued. “Days when you just, don’t know what you want?”

With a distant look, Chuuya makes a noise of affirmation. He pulls on your hand, taking you with him to a deserted corner halfway at the end of the not-so-dark corridor now. In fact, it may feel a bit... warmer. More comforting, more familiar, more grounding with the way Chuuya’s hand has been holding yours. It’s amazing how just his hand helps more than sleeping for a whole day does.

When both of you enter the hidden corner, Chuuya’s pace still pulling you with him, he yanks you onto his body. Your body crashes against his and his arms are quick to trap you in him. There’s no room for you to struggle nor any space for your anxiety to linger. Like a strong wind, his embrace dusts away the cobwebs around your soul. His hand crawls to the back of your head to push you down so your face covers his shoulder.

“If I had met you when I was going through what you’re feeling now, you could’ve given me this.” Chuuya’s voice came from behind your head. His chin presses your back, his other hand holding you still against him. “So make sure to do this with me when it’s my turn feeling down.”

You begin to feel his heartbeat, and you wonder, has it always been this therapeutic, having this much influence to thaw your continuously swirling uneasiness? But the thought of letting him do the chore of comforting you doesn’t sit right. You push to put a little distance but his hold around you tightens, trapping your arms at your sides.

“Not yet. Just another 30 seconds since we’re on the clock.”

You’re unsure where to look. The floor in front of you? His hair near your nose? The material of his coat your hands are touching?

You don’t want to think anymore. No more confusing rationalities, no more questions, not in this position, not when he’s here. You want to feel, to finally accept. So you close your eyes, bring your arms around him, and let your breaths slow down.

How you’ve missed this.

This doesn’t solve problems, you think, but why can you feel your worry melting away?

The pressure on your arms becomes lighter. Has it been 30 seconds? You can put some distance between you and Chuuya now, but not to escape or avoid him. You just want to see his face.

But your vision was suddenly obstructed by something dark. A sharp scent of comfort, Chuuya’s scent, fills your nose. Your fingers graze up and down to figure out what it is. There’s a flat surface connected with the perpendicular one, and the texture feels oddly similar as you take it off.

From the upper sides of your eye, you spot that in your hand is Chuuya’s hat as he pushes it down over your face again.

“I’m lending you the hat this once so you can cover your face for the job, then I’ll stay with you for the whole day wherever you want.” His hand lifts off you. “I can come over, bringing some of my own wine. How’s that sound?”

You adjust Chuuya’s hat to sit properly on your head, liking how it fits perfectly on you as you look at him. From the look on his face, you know he thinks so as well.

“Hey, you know what? You don’t look half bad with it.” He smirks, pocketing his hands. “You can wear it for the whole day, if you want, but just give it back and don’t scratch it.”

“What a nagging man,” You chuckle. “I’m holding this hostage till I feel better.”

Chuuya scoffs. “Hostage? Ha! My hat will be the one making you feel better.”

“It’s not just because of the hat, silly,” Your cheeks grow from your smile, giving him a meaningful look to thank him.

Chuuya’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare. He turns away, walking out to the corridor, and you follow. “W-Whatever, just keep it with you.”

“What if it’s not enough?” You pat down the hat, liking the way it presses your head. “What if I want more?”

“If you want more, then ask me! Why do you make it sound complicated?”

You lock your arm by slipping it through his. The fabric of his sleeve on your forearm feels natural as you sigh, your temple against his shoulder. “Can I really?” You mutter.

Chuuya heaves a heavy breath and releases it with a long sigh. You raise your head to apologise but he shoves down his hat to cover your eyes again, obstructing your vision. “Of course you can, stupid. I promise.”

You breathe in his scent again, feeling his hat around your head, his clothes against your skin, and his strong stature on your body.

You see light at the end of these kinds of days if he’s with you.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 7

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,297

Warnings: Description of a dead body, major character death (but technically you already know it happened, just not how it did...so...), heartbreak, major angst, a bit of fluff at the end, a couple familiar faces may or may not show up

Author Note: Seriously, you all are the best readers I could ever hope to have. The response to Part 6 was unbelievable and I can’t thank everyone enough for the support, especially when I continue to be evil and end the segments with such horrible cliffhangers. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 6 and Part 8

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Maker, your head hurts. 

It throbs angrily as if a mudhorn has impaled your brain on its horn. In fact, your whole body feels like one giant bruise. Grimacing, you take a deep breath, only to enter a coughing fit when you inhale a lungful of smoke. 

Cracking an eye open, panic seizes you when all you see is smoke. Ash gray and thick, it obscures your immediate surroundings from view. You can’t even tell if it’s night or day. 

What the kriff is going on?

Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you slowly sit up and feel pieces of grit and rubble dig into the tender flesh of your palms. A quick look shows no blood, soulmate mark unaffected, and you sigh a quiet breath of relief. But then worry starts to sink in when you realize you can’t remember where you are or what knocked you unconscious. Before you can spiral into a panic attack, the ground beneath you starts to tremble, causing the tiny fragments of gravel to wildly bounce around.

A shrill metallic screech pierces your ears followed immediately by a massive burst of vibrant orange flames erupting in the distance. You yelp, hastily pushing yourself onto your feet and start to run in the opposite direction, ignoring the howl of protest from your aching body. 

You can’t even see two steps in front of you, effectively ruining your attempt at a quick escape as you clumsily skirt around piles of debris that appear out of the smoke and threaten to block your way. Every breath is a wheeze, lungs making it painfully clear they cannot draw in enough oxygen from the smoky atmosphere to support your chosen pace. But the mere thought of dying here in this nightmarish inferno is enough to urge you to keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other, even as it simultaneously creates a tight, anxious knot in your stomach.

Another explosion detonates behind you. The ground quakes and groans, cracks appearing at an alarming rate as if the planet itself is being torn apart by the chaos. Your foot catches on one of the rifts, eliciting a cry of shock to tear itself out of your throat when you’re unable to reclaim your balance and plummet forward.

Except it’s not the ground that rises up to meet you. 

No. 

It’s a body. 

A dead body, to be precise. Burnt to a blackened crisp, as if the person had been dropped directly into a sun. Their skeletal features are frozen in an expression of torture, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. The stench of their seared flesh overwhelms your nostrils and ingrains itself in your brain, ensuring you’ll never forget the horrific smell for the rest of your lifetime.

Whimpering, you scramble backwards, curling your legs tight against your heaving chest. You look around, bile rising in your throat when you glimpse through the sea of smoke more charred corpses surrounding you. It’s as if you’ve stumbled upon a mass grave, and again the thought crosses your mind: what the kriff is going on?

You stand up, not wanting to linger another second in their presence, and continue moving forward, each footstep slow and careful as you maneuver around the bodies. The smoke is marginally thinner the further away you move from the fiery blasts, just enough for you to make out the faint outlines of collapsed buildings on either side of you, homes of families destroyed for reasons you don’t understand. Gut instinct keeps insisting that everything you’re seeing is wrong, that none of this destruction and carnage should have ever happened. 

Again, you attempt to string together your memories, forcing your brain to comply despite the pounding ache it produces in your temples. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a concussion. 

Details slowly start coming to mind, little and meaningless by themselves, but when put together form a grander picture. You came here to visit your best friend. ‘Here’ being a Mid-Rim planet with a ridiculously long and multisyllabic name you couldn’t pronounce then, and your poor head certainly can’t identify now. The transport flight had been long and you’d arrived later than anticipated, verging on late afternoon when you’d stepped off the craft. 

On your way to your friend’s house, the sun had abruptly gone dark. Everyone had stopped to look to the sky, yourself included. A light cruiser, kite-shaped and unmistakable, hovered directly overhead. Its presence was ominous, evoking the crowd of civilian spectators to murmur amongst themselves. 

Then its weapons unleashed a storm of hellfire.

Oh, Maker. How could you have ever forgotten the screams?

You’re pulled out of your dismal thoughts by the appearance of a dark shape ahead of you, its outline standing out as noticeably different than the surrounding rubble. Gradually, your brain starts to distinguish human features: a head, broad shoulders and limbs. 

It also occurs to you that they’re coming straight at you.

Before you can decide whether to flee or fight or do anything remotely conducive to increasing your odds of survival, the human-shaped blur barrels straight into you, hitting you with such force you instinctively grip onto their coat, just above their wrists, to keep from falling backwards. The feather-light grazing of the edge of your palm against their skin elicits a buzz of shocking warmth, as if you’ve touched a live wire instead of flesh.

It’s you, the thought pops into your head unprompted, like a fact you’ve always known since you were born. The feeling is breathtaking and electric, a lightning bolt striking the center of your heart. Every cell in your body is radiating exuberance and cheering: it’s you, it’s you, it’s you! The one I’ve been waiting for!

You’re pushed sideways, a small cry of surprise escaping your lips.

“Get out of my way.” It’s a masculine voice, sharp with impatience yet it wraps itself around your heart all the same. He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he continues heading in the direction you’ve been coming from.

“Wait,” you protest, because it’s not supposed to be like this. You’ve started shaking, from adrenaline or the shock of his dismissal, you’re not sure. 

The man pauses, keeping his back facing you. His dark clothes are conspicuously clean, and you can’t help comparing them to your own which are sooty and torn in places. For the second time, your gut instinct is telling you something is wrong, but this time you ignore it in favor of listening to the screaming of your heart urging you to never let this man out of your sight.

“We’re soulmates,” you say, desperate for him to stay.

His fingers curl into fists, the only forewarning you have before he snaps your heart in half as he mutters, “You could never be my soulmate.”

And then you’re watching as he disappears into the smoke, not once looking back to gauge the aftermath of his rejection. You had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming that you and your soulmate would meet and live a long, happy life together until Death came to reap your souls. In less than thirty seconds, your soulmate had just cruelly crushed those dreams without either of you exchanging names or seeing each other’s faces.

Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Acting on impulse, you start running after him. If you can just have a second chance to make a better impression, maybe you can change his mind. Maybe you can convince him to accept you as his soulmate, agree to take your hand and never let go. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with you, deeply and profoundly, just like every soulmate pairing you’ve heard about.

 With a head full of maybes, you don’t even hear the bomb drop.

It hits the ground with a resounding thud, and then your world is an explosion of red and orange heat, consuming you whole without leaving behind any evidence you’d ever existed at all. Your vision shifts and blurs, memories of your lifetime flashing by too quickly to recognize each one, but through it all you hear a voice, his voice, echoing those dreadful words over and over again.

You could never be my soulmate. Never. Never. Never.

~~~

You wake up with a jolt, throat raw as if you really had been inhaling smoke. You’re drenched in sweat and you push away the heavy blanket covering you before realizing it is definitely not your blanket nor are you currently in your own bed. Looking around, panic begins to prickle along your nerve endings when you fail to recognize anything familiar about your location.

You’re in someone’s home, that much is obvious from the furnishings. The ceiling overhead is made of overlapping metal and is slightly rounded, reminding you of a cave or burrow. There is a lantern hanging on a nearby hook, but the light it emanates is dim compared to the sunshine pouring in from the four small, square-shaped windows cut into the wall behind you above the bed. The view through the windows is slightly blurry, but you can make out the blue sky and what you think is a corral of some kind. 

Rubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the lingering exhaustion, you’re surprised when your hand encounters something rough covering the side of your forehead. A bandage. Strange, you must have hit your head somewhere—

The past comes back in flashes: Din confessing his feelings, touching his hand, the spark of warmth, falling unconscious on the floor.

Where is Din?

“You are awake.”

The voice is expressionless and mechanical in tone, stating the obvious. Even so, you jump, not having noticed the droid sitting in the far corner of the room during your initial survey. Its red sensors and dark colored plating would make it look menacing if not for the tray it clutches in its hands, balancing cups and a pitcher.

“I am IG-11,” the droid says as it approaches.

“IG?” you echo hoarsely, sitting up with alarm. “As in one of those assassin droids?”

“I have been reprogrammed as a nurse.” It considers you for a moment, internal mechanisms whirring, and then the tray is held out closer for you to reach. “Tea?”

Hesitantly, you pour yourself some and hold the cup with both hands as you take a sip. The tea is warm as it slides down your throat, flavorful and far more exotic than the kind you’ve tasted back home in Umbriel. 

“Where am I?” you ask after you’ve swallowed two more gulps.

“Arvala-7.”

You blink, barely familiar with the name which only intensifies your worry about Din’s absence.

“Okay, but like, where exactly on Arvala-7?” you press, gesturing around the room. “How did I even get here?”

“Your current location is a moisture farm owned and operated by Kuiil,” IG-11 says, moving away to set the tray on a nearby table, though its head remains facing your direction. “Death brought you here unconscious with an injury to your central processing unit.”

“My central…” you trail off, squinting. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Yes. It was meant to put you at ease.”

“Right.” You nod to yourself, reaching a decision. Downing the last of your drink, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and make a move to stand. “This has been great, but I’ve really got to go find Death so—”

A wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to sit back down. Kriff, you think, closing your eyes until you’re certain you won’t be seeing double anymore. 

“You won’t find Death here.” A new voice, crackling with age, informs you. His words are ominous, but his tone isn’t one of malice or ill-intent. 

Turning, you see an Ugnaught approaching from the entrance of the house. He stops beside IG-11, green eyes peering at you from beneath bushy white eyebrows, but you don’t feel threatened by his nearness. 

“I am Kuiil. Death entrusted me with looking after you until his return from Nevarro,” he says, sitting down upon a stool with his arms braced upon his knees. “You must continue to rest until you are well. I have spoken.”

You press a hand to your chest, feeling a pang of hurt at Din’s decision. “He left?”

“Death is bound by creed to the universe to reap the dead. Nothing, not even his soulmate, can be put before it.”

You choke on your spit. “Soulmate? We’re not—”

“Even if he had not told me,” Kuiil interrupts, unwilling to hear your dissuading opinion when he is certain of his own. “I would have known it from how he stubbornly stayed at your side and by how loathsome he was to leave you behind. In all my years, I have not seen him behave in such a twitterpated manner.” 

“He…” Your voice wavers, torn between hopefulness and disbelief. “He really told you we’re soulmates?”

Kuiil, reaching towards the table for the pitcher of tea, pauses and slowly turns back to look at you. “You were unaware of your matched connection with Death? Did you two not touch hands as most fated pairs often do?”

Any reply you might have said falters when you look down at your hands in your lap. More specifically, your left hand. The one Din had grasped.  The one that in your past life had brushed against your soulmate minutes before you died. 

Right there in the middle of your palm, innocently gleaming like it’s always been there and therefore isn’t at all responsible for the rapid increase of your heartbeat, is a soulmate marking.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​​, @theocatkov​​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster​

[prettycutebunny]

Lucid dreams

The begnning 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck fuck FUCK”

The aggressive yelling and smashing of keys resonated in your room as you glared at the screen. You’ve just been unhooked without borrowed time and the killer was on your trail, head straight for the window looked like your best choice but ….

“MOVE IT MEG!”

Another player - a healthy one mind you - also wanted the window blocking it from you. The hit was bound to happen, as your character fell to the ground. Hitting the keys even more aggressively trying to wiggle out while frowning and cussing.

You didn’t last long however as your teammates simply did not unhook you after choosing to heal up as far away from you as possible. The feeling of rage bubbles inside as you closed the game and mumbled some insults.

“Stupid soloq players”

Heading to bed angry isn’t the smartest idea, but you did it anyway. Nothing like a good nap to calm you down ! Closing your eyes as you tried to relax your body. Tomorrow, you’ll definitely finish the challenge tomorrow teammates be damned.

That’s when you felt it, the humidity that suddenly engulfed your body with the suffocating feeling of something wrapping around you. Sleep paralysis ? Your drunk on sleep mind thought.

As you were drifting away it all went away. Replaced with the feeling of wet grass under you, and the drizzling rain over you. Jolting up in shock, you saw it. The familiar scenery of dark blue and green.

Blinking yourself awake as you took in the scene in front of you. Red forest ? Walking slowly and looking around. Is this mother’s dwelling realm ? confused and disoriented was an understatement until you heard the noise of a generation being worked on.

Following it on instinct lead the way as you walked to it. The sight of the tall guy with his sunglasses and signature grin stopped you on your track.

He seemed to notice you because he stopped working on the gen and approached you, his voice sounded kind and calm. Not at all what you expected.

“Hey there doll, my name is ace and I know this is crazy but if you helped me with five of these we can get out of here. I’ll explain everything as we get to work so can you help me ?”

Trying to take in the buttery smooth voice in you nodded. His body visibly relaxed with your acceptance. As he started giving you brief instructions on how to repair a gen.

You always wondered how everyone magically knew how to repair these things. the moment your hand touched the wires, it started moving on it’s on. Like it was on autopilot.

“See ? You’re a natural. There’s four of us and a killer, but don’t worry with my luck you won’t be noticed”

He kept on talking about the realms , rules , killers , survivors , and other things but it didn’t register in your brain. All you could think of was when this dream would end.

Lucid dreams were so rare and you can’t remember the last time you had one. Should you do nothing and relax with ace or try to look for the killer and harass since you can’t feel pain ?

~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m torn between how I want reader to be so which one do you prefer ? Shy modest or annoying memelord ?

[btsmosphere]

Across the Tracks | KTH

~summary: Don’t cross the tracks. Never once did you question what you had been told your whole life – at least not until a certain boy makes that a bit more difficult...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | drabble

~pairing: taehyung x reader (she/her) ~word count: 7.1k ~dystopian au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, inspired by lady and the tramp ~rating: pg15 ~warnings: adoption, dystopia, violence, breaking and entering, arrest, electric shocks, burns, scars, swearing, probable overuse of the nickname ‘pidge’ oop

~a/n: hi guys, and thank you to everyone being so kind about the first part!! Again, cr to the wonderful, amazing @un2-verse​ for the initial idea, ilyy! Now, to everyone, enjoy the fic and don’t hesitate to come chat with me about it🥰

You weren’t exactly aware of moving. The moment you came to your senses was the same that your thick plastic bracelet connected with the back of a skull.

Still staring in shock at the figure that crumpled to all fours before you, you didn’t spare a moment to see as the other assailant was thrown off. The man was weakly moving, but the remnants of your fear mingling with the horror of your situation left a nasty taste in your mouth.

Meanwhile, your rescuer had turned their attention to you.

“Hey,” the familiarity of the voice was still lost on you, “hey, pidge?”

A hand landing on your shoulder finally forced your eyes to drift away from the man on the floor, currently stirring and groaning. When you faced Taehyung, it was to find soft, dark eyes watching you with a hint of concern.

Glancing back at the two men on the ground, Taehyung showed you his side profile for a second.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” his voice remained low, cautious.

He waited for you to go first, so you carefully stepped around the men, staying as far away from them as possible. Back in the connecting alley, you had to wait for Taehyung to reach your side to know where to go.

“What are you doing out here, huh, pidge?” he eyed you as you set off beside him.

Since you had started moving again, your hand had naturally gravitated over your shocker again, and you glanced down at it now.

“I… got lost,” your voice was small.

“You don’t strike me as the type to be anywhere near here, cub,” he spoke, deep voice cutting off for a moment as he peered around a corner before leading you down it, “so how’d you get lost?”

“I, um…” trailing off, you turned your eyes to the ground. How to tell him that you had run off like a child?

But he was alerted by your silence, looking back down at you.

“Pidge?”

“I- it was my fault-“ you started, throwing your hands out in defeat.

Taehyung stopped in his tracks beside you, startling you to halt as well. Though his hand began to reach out, slowly, he seemed to think twice and dropped it. Either way, you realised what he had noticed, the cause for his shock.

“They didn’t…” his head shook almost imperceptibly.

But you had already drawn back, pulling your handicapped wrist firmly into your chest, somehow self conscious under his sad stare.

Barely a blink, however, and the agonising stinging was shooting through you again. Involuntary cry leaving your lips, your knees seemed to give up as the electricity burned you.

But instead of meeting the stony ground, your body fell against another, two hands hurriedly pulling you against him by your upper arms. As the shock subsided, the ground returning to your feet, you pulled away. Your form still shook.

Gulping back the tears that had been startled to your eyes, you avoided his captivating gaze.

“You were right,” you sniffed

In the corner of your eye, you saw his hand lift. One finger brushed gently up your cheek, clearing back the hair that had fallen across it.

“I didn’t want to be, pidge,” his deep voice was like velvet, coating something so sad. “Let me see?”

Patiently, he waited until you eased the arm away from your chest. As you held it out, his fingers ghosted against your skin, just to hold the hand in place. Training his eyes intently on the device, he rotated your wrist.

At the same moment as him, you spotted the crack running up the plastic. A short laugh escaping as he looked up at you, Taehyung’s breath blew onto your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“You did good, little cub,” he chuckled, “his head’s gonna hurt. But we gotta get this off.”

“Do you know how?”

Tilting his head, he seemed to give it some thought. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he looked down the alleyway, although when you followed his gaze you saw nothing.

“…yeah, I might have an idea,” he eventually nodded.

In a flash, a grin lit up his face, erasing the seriousness of before. Setting off again, your eyes widened as his hand slipped down from your wrist to grip your own.

Swallowing, you hurried after him, trying not to think too much about it.

In the end, you were quite glad for his touch. The neighbourhood he led you through made you uneasy; even more delapidated houses lined the streets, water splashing at each corner where the pipes were invariably broken, more graffiti littering the brickwork.

So although your eyes couldn’t help but wander, peering down every turn and darting to any small sound, you stuck close to his grounding presence.

Winding further through this unknown part of the city, the drizzle never ceased. Thankful for the brisk pace you were travelling at, you tried to control your shivering, clamping your jaw shut to stop your teeth chattering. Your blouse was all that protected you from the air, and it was being plastered against your skin.

However, Tae’s eyes missed nothing. Between checking the streets around you, he periodically looked back to you at his side.

When his hand first pulled away from yours, your fingers chased desperately after his, not wanting to lose a fraction of warmth.

“Hey,” he laughed, “don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead, he shook his arms from his black coat. Not waiting for you to take it, he dropped it directly onto your shoulders. As you shoved your arms inside, the warmth made you sigh.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” he grinned, hand landing on your shoulder as he turned to look ahead. “We’re here.”

In front of you stood an enormous building. Large chimneys rose from its roof towards the sky. The dark of the walls seemed even blacker than the night, floodlights positioned periodically along its large perimeter fence doing little to illuminate the place.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Tae stood in front of you, throwing his arms out, inviting you to admire the place.

But you only eyed the man in front of you, his midnight hair dripping a little onto his black clothes. Not that he seemed to care, equally dark eyes glittering as he grabbed your hand again and practically jogged onwards.

“What are we doing?” you hissed.

Tracking his way along the fence, he suddenly stopped in front of you, not bothering to answer.

“After you.”

The way he bowed, twirling his hands, made him seem like a butler. However, there was no fancy entrance to match; he was ushering you through a narrow hole in the fence, raw ends of wire snaking inwards.

You looked back and forth at the boy, those eyes watching you hopefully, and the tear in the fence.

Sighing, you slipped through, only catching the hem of your trousers before safely emerging.

“Where are we?” you whispered as Tae joined your side.

“This is the car factory,” he said, “it’s going to get that shocker off.”

“Oh,” you frowned stepping forwards-

Only to have a hand stop you.

“Stay close to the fence,” he warned, easing you back so you walked between him and the perimeter.

Although your feet trailed after him, your heartbeat near enough doubled when you noticed his secrecy. This was not something you should be doing.

“We’re- we’re breaking in?!” you exclaimed, wary of your volume.

A smirk met you as Tae looked over his shoulder.

“Why, does that scare you, pidge?”

But as you spluttered for a response, another jolt of electricity shot down your arm.

Yelping, you clutched at the fence beside you. When you opened your eyes, all traces of playfulness had disappeared from Taehyung’s face – instead, he was closer, hands reaching for you as he lowered to your eye level, searching for your gaze.

Finding you staring back, his eyes darted down to the heavy shocker on your arm.

“You wanna get that off, don’t you?”

A shaky breath left you.

“Yes…”

“Then follow me.”

Taehyung had promised to be back.

Still nestled in his coat, your fingers fidgeted as you kept your eyes on the patch of darkness he had faded into. Maybe he’s going to leave you, your mind spun in circles, he’ll steal something and leave you to take the blame.

Your heart knocked steadily against your ribs, no sound louder than your breathing and the light spatter of drizzle.

You already knew he had a history with the controllers, and this didn’t look good for you. But, glancing nervously behind you at the gaping blackness that lay down every alley, you knew you would fare no better if you left either.

Teeth trapping your lower lip, you hunched your shoulders and kept waiting.

It wasn’t too long untill a loud wail cut through the night. Practically leaping with fright, you whipped around, trying to identify what was happening.

The moment you turned back, Taehyung was right in front of you-

And getting closer still.

“Run!” he called over the siren.

With no time to ask questions, you quickly spurred your feet into action, racing away from the building Tae had just come from.

“Did you get caught?” you panted.

“No,” somehow he managed to send you a grin, “that’s not where we were aiming for.”

Bewildered, you opened your mouth again, but a shout rung out. Across the yard, nearer to the factory, several figures were running towards the source of the alarm.

Luckily the far edge of the factory was finally drawing near, and with aching limbs you pushed forwards, falling against the bricks the moment you rounded out of sight. Taehyung was right beside you, exhilirated grin still fixed in place even as his chest heaved.

“What now?” you breathed.

“In here.”

Shoving himself away from the wall, Tae moved to the base of a long window. Bars ran the whole way up, slicing your view of the factory inside.

As you watched on with alarm, he reached for the lowest bar and used one small hop to boost himself up. Eyeing him as he clung onto the bars and looked down to you, you shook your head.

“This is crazy.”

For some reason that only seemed to make him smile wider.

“Come on then cub, what are you waiting for?”

“We’ll- we’ll get caught..” you punctuated your unease with a glance behind you.

“Not if we’re quick.”

Chewing at your lip, you reminded yourself of the weight on your wrist, the uncomfortable burn still lingering there. You were just about ready to give in when he spoke again, those big eyes fixing themselves on yours once again.

“You can trust me, pidge.”

With only a small huff, you stepped forwards and hoisted yourself up behind him.

Maybe you were a little crazy, too, to be doing this. But despite the slight slick of drizzle on the cold metal, the climbing wasn’t too hard, more like climbing a ladder. You were well practiced in maneuvering your way up trees in the park, so you made quick work of the window.

At the top, you were met with another window, this time without bars. Presumably they didn’t expect anyone to reach it, as there was no lock apart from a latch that broke with enough force from Taehyung.

With his hands off the bars and shoving the pane up to let you in, however, your heart leapt once again to your mouth, this time spurring you on rather than causing hesitation.

Ducking inside, you quickly dropped onto wooden floor. The window scraped shut behind you, Tae’s hand finding yours again and pulling you to the right. Your footsteps fell softly within the shadows that climbed the walls, the dust drifting within slivers of moonlight that filtered through the windows.

Rows upon rows of abandoned workbenches stretched through the long, thin space. The next room was the same, though with more bits of machinery you couldn’t recognise also lined up on the countertops.

Slowing, Taehyung observed every one as you went past, but quickly tsked and sped up again, onto the next room.

“Aha!” he breathed in elation.

Though you could barely see a difference between this room and the last, you obliged as he led you, squeezing between benches, towards a machine that was bolted to the wall. Letting your hand fall from his, he investigated, closely examining every edge of the metal until he found a button.

As he pressed it down, a rumbling, though quiet, seemed to blare through the space.

Tae glanced back, but not at you, his eyes travelling to the doorways first.

“Come here,” he beckoned you.

Catching your wrist as you moved closer, he lifted it and placed it at the edge of a metal plate in the centre of the thing, illuminated by a dull yellow light that had flickered into life.

“What are you-“

“Stay still.”

Another button and the grating of metal made you both wince. At the firm grip on your wrist, you realised your hand had jolted from its place.

A metal column was steadily descending. Heading resolutely for your arm.

Just as your eyes widened in slight panic, Tae piped up-

“You know they use these things to shape the doors and stuff? This whole room, just for car doors! They use steel, it’s easy to mould-“

A gasp left your lips as you felt a small but definite tug on your arm. The metal had met with your bracelet, avoiding your wrist. Its pace barely slowed as it ploughed through the plastic as if it was butter, soon falling uselessly away from your wrist.

A gasp of joy left you as you were finally free to carress the irritated skin.

Cradling it, you rubbed gently to loosen your silver bracelet that had imprinted onto your skin when it was clamped underneath the shocker.

“Shit-“

You saw it at the same moment as Taehyung. A blazing red line was etched on your skin, winding around your wrist like another piece of jewellery.

“What’s this?” he was asking, fingers easing the gifted bracelet away from your skin.

“My parents gave it to me,” your eyes didn’t leave it, “when my papers came.”

“It’s silver.”

Blinking, you finally looked up at him.

“I think so.”

He drew his lip between his teeth.

But before either of you could speak again, a muffled shout broke you apart. Stepping in front of you, Taehyung moved forwards until he could see down from the window, jaw set.

With a curse, he spun around and grabbed your unharmed wrist, kicking the remnants of the shocker away under a bench.

“We need to go.”

Instantly alerted, your feet were already heading back the way you came, to the window, but you barely made it one stride before Taehyung was pulling you back. Eyes fixed ahead, he never returned your questioning stare as you flew through more doorways, past rows and rows until you were dizzy.

Somewhere below, a heavy clunk sounded as the main door to the building was opened.

And beyond the doorways you had passed through, at the other end of the building, footsteps could be heard echoing throught the space.

Shooting a look back in alarm, you thankfully found no one on your tail yet. The moment you looked forwards again, Tae was leading you down a rickety metal staircase, not caring about the din as you tore down it.

Feet landing on the ground floor, your eyes searched fruitlessly for a door.

“Tae, how do we-?”

The question froze in your throat as you turned around to him wrenching a grill off the wall.

“Quick, pidge,” he ushered you urgently forwards, “this vent comes out at the back, go!”

Both above and on this floor, footsteps were getting closer as you stared into the dark vent.

“What-“

“Just go, quick!” his hands pushed you gently forwards, but you could sense their jitteriness and took a deep breath, diving in headfirst.

There was enough room to get on your hands and knees, so you shuffled forwards as fast as you could, rounding a bend almost straight away. At the scraping of metal, you looked back to assure yourself Tae was behind you.

Only you were met with empty space.

Gaping, your mouth opened and closed in panic, knowing it unwise to speak up. Desperation was clawing at you however, the heavy footfalls of the guards audible even within the vent.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Taehyung’s voice floated through the grate, tone easy.

You gulped nonetheless.

“Lovely night we’re having,” he continued, oblivious to the way your heart was squeezing its way up your throat.

A bang rattled the metal covering just around the corner, Tae’s body slamming against it as you jumped away, hand flying to clamp over your mouth.

“What are you doing in here?” a voice you didn’t recognise snarled.

“Ah, well you see“ – how Tae was so calm you had no idea – “I was walking my dog and he saw this rabbit and chased it through the fence! I didn’t see where he went, I thought it might have been here, but as you can see, he’s not-“

“You think you’re funny, huh?” a new, equally unfriendly voice, interrupted.

“Well, I wouldn’t-“

Tae’s words were once again cut off with a harsh clatter of metal against brick. Jostling and scuffling was all you could hear for a moment, retreating further down the dark vent until the sounds grew fainter.

Eventually, near silence returned.

Sucking in a steadying breath, you inched back towards the grate, peering through a gap.

Taehyung was nowhere to be seen.

He was probably among the small gaggle of people walking away from you, but you couldn’t see well. Chest suddenly feeling tighter, you shrank back.

Glancing down the vent Tae had sent you into, it looked a lot smaller now. It felt like forever that you hesitated, the people in the factory disappearing completely from view while you grappled with the obvious conclusion.

If you were to follow Tae, nothing good could come of it except that two of you would be in trouble rather than one.

As much as you wanted him, it was perhaps a selfish part of you that knew you never wanted to cross paths with the controllers. It would surely destroy your conscience, your reputation.

So, with Tae’s words echoing in your head, you turned away.

This vent should come out at the back… okay, getting out shouldn’t be too hard. If you just got to the other side of the fence… but then, what would you do? You barely knew left from right in this area, how would you ever find your way back?

What if more people found you, tried to catch you like they had before?

A small voice reminded you that Taehyung wasn’t exactly a model citizen either, but at least he had helped you.

Not long later, you came face to face with another metal grate. Though it took you minute to shimmy it open, the metal rusty and screeching all the while, no one seemed to be alerted by the time you clambered out.

Fixing it back in place, you came to a stop.

The fence was only feet away from you, unlit as this was the back of the property. Beyond, you couldn’t make out much more than sparse bushes in the darkness.

Even the drizzle was dying now, forcing you to wallow in complete quiet as you remained frozen. The burning skin around your wrist still tingled, not allowing your pain to be forgotten.

You swallowed hard.

If you had felt alone before, you felt much more deserted now with the absence of Taehyung.

Wringing your hands, you glanced left as if it would bring you answers. With a sigh, you looked the other way down the building – only to jump out of your skin.

As you choked on a gasp, Taehyung’s grin only grew on his face, laughing at your fright.

“Taehyung! When did you get there? How did you-?”

“Didn’t think I’d leave you alone, did you, pidge?”

Still reeling in your shock, you merely blinked, prompting another deep laugh from him. Slinging an arm around your shoulder, he strode towards the fence, tilting his head to look down at you.

“Now, let’s get out of here, yeah? There’s a lot more to do.”

“But- Tae, what happened to you? How did you get away?”

Slipping through the fence first, you squinted at a cut on his head. It certainly hadn’t been there before.

“Plenty of practise, pidge,” he said, returning to your side. He offered up nothing more than a smile, but there was nothing behind it this time.

Sighing, you dropped the matter and fell into step beside him. Where his feet steered, you would follow, still none the wiser about exactly where you were. Though your fingers hovered over your wounded wrist, they dared not even skim the tender skin there.

After the fourth time it slipped down, making you wince, you quietly slipped your bracelet off and into your pocket.

“You hungry, pidge?” Tae nudged you after a few more minutes.

“I- I guess…” you shrugged, “I don’t want to trouble you-“

Tae actually laughed out loud then, throwing his head back. His arm landed across your shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“You’re no trouble, pidge. Never think that.”

“O-okay,” you returned, perplexed as he fixed you with a stare.

“First stop,” he announced then.

On reaching a run-down door, not even as tall as his shoulders, he clicked his heels, hands behind his back. When you laughed at him, he seemed satisfied and reached forward to rap on the door.

For a few moments, nothing happened, your eyes sliding between Tae and the door as he stood epectantly.

Eventually, the door – which was more like a plank – squeaked open, revealing a platinum-haired man. Poking his head out, a gummy grin lit up his face.

“Tae!”

“Hey Yoongi,” he greeted, stepping back so that you were visible, “I was hoping we could see Joon?”

Shuffling your feet, you watched Yoongi’s face darken slightly, casting his eyes over you.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, though his eyes never left you.

Melting away into the darkness inside, Yoongi was soon replaced by a taller man who hit his head on the doorframe as he came to meet you.

“Hi, I’m Namjoon,” he smiled at you, still rubbing his crown, “Tae, what can I do for you?”

“This is Y/N, she’s had a rough night,” Tae ushered you forward, “do you have anything for burns?”

Carefullly, he raised your wrist to Namjoon. Pushing his glasses onto his head, Joon leant forwards, squinting at the damage with a low hiss.

“Yeah, I should have something,” he stood back, “how did that happen?”

“Shocker. Silver bracelet,” was all Tae offered in explanation.

“Gods, those disciplinariums ought to be shut down,” Joon shook his head, then, “I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t long before he returned with the promised treatment, helping you apply a cream that instantly soothed your skin.

“Okay, we’d better be off,” Tae rubbed a hand over your back as he said farewell.

Thanking Namjoon, you nervously took the small tub of cream he pressed into your hand. Waving as you walked away, you found the shabby door had already closed.

“Did we pay him?” you muttered.

“Don’t you worry about that, pidge,” he just grinned.

“B-but mother and father told me-“

“Things are different here, cub,” he explained, “if you have the money for something, great. But this side of the tracks, dunno if you can tell, but we’re not exactly well-off.”

“Did we- did we steal?” you whispered, scandalised

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he chuckled. You only gaped.

“Stealing is wrong!”

“Some people on your side of the tracks ought to be told that, pidge,” he quirked his head, bitterness creeping onto his face, “they take everything from us, and then pretend to make it better by stealing our children too.”

Stunned into silence, you merely blinked up at him. His mouth was set in a grim line as he turned to you.

“I’m sorry, pidge, but you gotta understand. You’re from round here too, when it comes down to it. It’s not ‘lucky’ that you got picked up by some rich couple, it’s a damn shame you have to be on the other side to have a shot at a decent life.”

“I- I think I understand,” you swallowed, “but don’t the people here work? Like father does? Then you shouldn’t have to steal.”

Tae chewed on his lip as he led you into a small alley, still moving slowly.

“It’s a bit different for us, pidge,” he spoke, “we make stuff in the factories, it gets sold on the other side. We work for them, and they don’t pay us enough to buy the stuff we’re making.”

Letting his words sink in, turning them over in your mind as you tried to make sense of them, you broke the silence as you came towards the end of the alley. Your voice was quiet, uncertain. Tae made everything you had been taught seem… unfair.

“Is there… is there really no way? No way out?”

As Tae seemed to chew on his words, his steps slowed. You had come around the corner, warm light seeping into the darkness from the back window of the nearest building. Instead of a cramped alley, this space opened up into a small yard.

A single breath in had your mouth watering – a rich scent was emanating through a vent at the back.

Just as you took another, a shout.

“Hey, looks who’s here!”

The door was thrown open. Tae’s chuckle reverberated in your ears as you startled, stumbling back into his chest.

“Here’s dinner,” he smirked.

“My favourite tramp!” a man greeted as he hurried out, an apron swishing around his knees, “it’s been a while, Tae.”

“Hey, Jimin,” they exchanged a brief hug before Jimin’s eyes fell on you.

Under his keen gaze, you shrank back.

“Who’s this?” he tilted his head towards you, but addressed the question to Taehyung.

“This is Y/N,” Tae fell back to your side, arm falling over your shoulders once again. “We’re kind of hungry.”

“You could at least pretend you want to see me,” Jimin scoffed, but broke into a smile, “but fine, food it is.”

Though Jimin fixed Tae with a stare and a quirked eyebrow, he said nothing else before whipping back inside.

“Hey pidge,” Tae started, “come with me.”

Hand gliding back into place, to intertwine his fingers with yours, he gently pulled you forwards. Reaching the back window of what you now presumed to be a restaurant, a small alcove revealed a narrow set of steps.

“Careful now, pidge,” he warned.

Schooling the curious frown off your face, you obliged, climbing ahead of him.

As you reached the precipice, all the breath was stolen from your lungs.

The stairs opened onto a small roof terrace; nothing to see in itself, a derelict rail running around the edge and a small table perched to the side. But the view…

Never before had you seen your city like this. Sprawled out, vast even in the night that hid away the corners of it, and dotted with flecks of light. Head slowly turning, trying to take it all in, you let your mouth hang open. Behind every prick of light was another family, another life you may never cross over.

It was as if the constellations had landed, just for you.

“Pretty good, right?”

Though you were reluctant to tear you eyes from the city, you were rewarded for your efforts with Tae’s dazzling smile. Perfectly at ease, he basked in the timid glow of night.

When his eyes turned to you, the world stopped moving.

You thought maybe you could forgo all the sparkle of the lights for the burning dark of his eyes.

“Having fun, lovebirds?”

Jumping back from Taehyung at Jimin’s voice, you noticed just how close you had gotten.

Either way, a grateful smile made its way to your lips at the steaming plates of food he bore, carrying with them that heavenly scent from the yard down below. Pausing for a moment before he handed the food over, you saw Jimin’s eyes flick between the two of you.

But as Jimin retreated, Tae pulled out a chair for you, once again bowing as if this was a five star hotel rather than an old roof terrace.

If you were honest, you were a bit uneasy about the chair being able to hold you, but it dutifully remained intact, allowing you to enjoy your meal.

And enjoy it you did.

Senses overwhelmed, you weren’t sure where to look. The awe-inspiring city lay right there, but an equally handsome man was opposite you, the lights sparkling in his eyes even as he slurped at his pasta.

Perhaps it was the fact you were starving hungry, but the meal was just as heavenly as the view, tastebuds gorging on the delicious sauce. Though you longed to dig in as Tae was, your table manners were firmly drilled in, so you persevered with your fork, twirling the spaghetti neatly around.

Somewhere along the way, your manners did devolve. As Tae leant back, stretching with a satisfied sigh, you were scooping the stuff into your mouth.

It wasn’t until you found him staring at you, soft smile curving his lips, that you froze.

“Sorry-“ you mumbled, hastening to wipe at your mouth.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he chuckled, then cleared his throat. “I was – ahem – just wondering if you wouldn’t miss a couple forkfuls of that.”

Ah, so he was making heart eyes at the food. You could hardly blame him and simply nodded, allowing him to take a scoop.

Laughing at his somewhat guilty eyes, you shovelled another mouthful for yourself, still slurping at the pasta in a way mother would surely scold you for, if she could see.

To your alarm, however, you found yourself yanked sideways as you did so. Eyes widening, you found your lips pressed awkwardly to Tae’s, one strand of spaghetti holding you there. It took you a second to react, hurriedly biting down and pulling away the moment you came to your senses. Nervous laughter was startled from you as you averted your gaze, heat rising rapidly in your cheeks.

But Tae’s eyes never dropped.

The barest hint of a smirk still graced his lips, gently sliding away into nothing as he watched you. Eyes lingering, he swallowed.

When you looked up, his lips were parted slightly as he stared at you. If you blinked, you might well have missed it, though, as he hastily pulled his mouth back into a smile. Then he turned away, forcing his gaze back to the city before you.

“It’s a beautiful night.”

His voice was low and raspy, taking him by surprise. Clearing his throat, a short glance at you instilled his hope that you hadn’t noticed.

Each of you obligingly let silence settle, leaving the leftover spaghetti untouched.

Instead, you sat back, content in letting the cool air wrap itself around you. Playing dot-to-dot with the spots of light, you didn’t mind the barest breeze that teased stray strands of your hair. All the while you were aware of the warmth coming from Taehyung at your side.

A deep sigh left him, joining the course of the air as it brushed past you.

“You see that pidge?” his eyes stayed on the city as he sighed. “There’s a world beyond that. Not everywhere is like this. They don’t have this side of the tracks and that side.”

Pulled from your reverie, you gave into his magnetism, finally fixing your gaze on him again. Gesturing at nothing in particular, he continued.

“We could run away… let this place break itself apart and- and just go where we please.”

The sparkle in his eyes was almost enough to spark something in your heart too. But down there among the dark, was your home. Your brother.

“But Tae, my family…” you whispered. As soon as the words left your lips, your teeth clamped around your tongue, some faint wish of having never said those words.

Taehyung shook his head, gaze falling to his hands where they rested in his lap.

“When you aren’t tied down… when you aren’t tied down then you can think these things. They can’t keep you forever, you know. True chidren move out, become people… you shouldn’t have to stay and look pretty on the shelf for them, pidge. Your dreams don’t have to live where you close your eyes.”

He turned to you then. You couldn’t have breathed if you wanted to.

Again, it seemed you had fallen into this man’s magnetic pull, somehow closer than you remembered getting. His eyes were too powerful for you to pull away from, somehow wide and shining while something dark flickered beneath those irises.

It was a slow surge as he moved forwards, his breath falling onto your cheek, your lips.

The darkness of the night, the city, the terrace, blurred at the corners of your vision, unable to look away from the entrancing boy – every fleck of gold in his eyes, each eyelash, sloping down, and now dropping shut-

There was no impact as his lips met yours, feather-soft as they pressed together.

You moved together with ease, slotting into place perfectly as your lips brushed. That was all it took. The moment you confirmed what he was silently asking, he was pressing into your mouth, lips much more than a phantom and very, very real.

Fingers that were resting lightly at your jaw now fervently tugged you closer.

Your head was spinning by the time both his hands were on you. Moulding to his touch, you indulged in his mouth as he pulled you onto his lap, hand gliding over your back. Craving more of him, you eagerly pushed closer, leaving no space for the breeze to weave between your bodies.

Breath fell hot between you as the kiss broke at last, but you found you had been robbed of all words.

“Just stay with me for tonight, pidge.” Tae’s voice was breathy, casting itself to the wind inches from his lips. A hopeful grin spread onto his face. “What’s life without a little adventure?”

Exhaling, you nestled into him once again, casting your eyes back out to the glimmering lights of the city. And he seemed happy with that, arms curling securely around you while they still could.

That night, you both dreamed of running away.

Fingers were trailing winding paths through your hair, rousing you from sleep. It was only slow, the world piecing itself together inch by inch around you, but now you blinked blearily, light filtering through your lashes.

When the hand withdrew from your head, you pried your eyes further open, twisting around.

Taehyung was already looking at you. Soft smile playing on his lips, he ran his hand once more over your head at your pout.

“Sorry, cub, didn’t mean to wake you,” he chuckled.

“No, no,” you shook your head, fidgeting to an upright position as a yawn forced its way out, “wh-what time is it?”

Only a shrug answered, a vague wave towards the sky. Turning, you found the city sprawled out ahead of you, but this time bathed in light as a glow pierced the horizon.

Gnawing at your lip, you kept in your words. It was morning, and you had never been away from home this long, even if it wasn’t your parents waiting for you there. You already missed this moment, knowing you would have to go.

Tae pulled you to his chest again, arms snaking their way around your middle, the ghost of his lips on your neck-

Sighing heavily, you turned back to him, though you didn’t meet his eyes.

“Tae I- thank you, but, I should go home now.”

A moment of silence elapsed, Tae’s arms not budging from where they circled you.

Then, he deflated. Releasing you from his lap, he nodded, more to himself than anything.

“Alright, pidge. Let’s get you home.”

Descending from the terrace, you let the view fade from sight without looking back. The walk was steady, but it seemed to stretch on for hours with the torture of walking beside Tae, unable to give in to your urge to reach out for his hand.

But you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

Idly observing as the houses you passed became freshly painted, weeds between the paving slabs turning to freshly mown lawns, you tried to reason with yourself. What would Jin and Hoseok think? Not only had you crossed the tracks, but you had broken into a building with the notorious Taehyung.

And then eaten delicious spaghetti with him.

And kissed him.

Resolving never to speak of it again, you cast your eyes down. Why was your common sense betraying you now? Don’t associate with the other side, that was unspoken rule number one. You were better off here, you were lucky to have mother and father.

But that wasn’t what Tae had told you.

And something in you believed him. After your whole life being shooed away from the true children, watching them go to school and learn and do all the things you couldn’t, you wondered why they had taken you in after all.

“What flowers do you like, pidge?”

Double-taking, you were ripped from your thoughts to find Tae calling from behind you.

“I- I don’t know…” you frowned, eyes travelling to the property he had stopped beside.

“Okay pidge, wait here,” he grinned, “gonna need something to remember me by, right?”

He jumped. He jumped, vaulting over the short front wall before you could even utter a sound of warning. Dashing forwards, you watched with wide eyes as you saw him tramp through the garden like it was his own.

“Tae! What are you-?”

Stopping in front of a pristine flower bed, Taehyung’s hands fell on his hips.

“You gotta have a little fun, pidge! It’s harmless, don’t worry! Now do you like yellow or purple best?”

“Uh, um, purple,” you quickly decided, hoping to hurry him along.

Glancing over your shoulder, you scanned the road for anyone watching, bouncing on the balls of your feet as your fingers tapped impatiently on the wall. Finding nothing, you looked back to find Tae focussed intently on the flowers in his fingers, twisting the stems together with his tongue poking out.

Against your better sense, a smile fought its way to the surface.

Then, to your left, voices. Whipping your head around, you searched for the source, which revealed itself as two men emerging around the corner.

Head to toe in black, they sported a small orange stripe on the shoulder of their uniform.

Your heart rocketed in your chest, feet instantly backpedalling, but the controllers already had their eyes on you.

“Tae!” you caught his attention.

As if in slow motion, you watched him find the controllers standing at the corner, watched them locate him, and watched them each start running.

Feet slamming onto the concrete beside you, Tae was already gripping your hand.

“Now’s where we get going,” he panted.

Not hesitating for a second, both of you sped off immediately. Still fairly close to the tracks, despite being on your side, Tae seemed much more familiar with the streets than you. At some point your hands broke apart as he threw himself into a narrow path between houses.

Skidding around the corner after him, you did your best to keep up. The heavy boots thudding close behind were certainly good motivation.

Another turn and a fence stood resolutely in your way. Unfazed, Tae barely slowed down as he hopped over it with ease.

Scrambling after him, your foot slipped, scraping your calf against the wood. Still, you jumped again, struggling to reach the other side. The barrier was nearly as tall as you, only letting you snatch a glimpse of Taehyung disappearing through another garden.

Your eyes stayed on him as a bruising grip pulled your shoulder.

You didn’t struggle as your arms were yanked behind your back, manhandling you against the wall with barely enough time to turn away. Harsh brick scratched at your face while metal dug into your wrists for the second time.

Shoving you forward roughly, your feet nearly lost the ground, but you caught yourself, watery eyes staying on the ground while the hands on your arms marched you away. All you could do was hold in the gasps that constricted your throat.

You couldn’t even look back.

It had been a minute or so since Taehyung last heard the footsteps. Allowing his legs to drag him to a stop, his back fell against a wall, chest heaving. Nonetheless, a wide smile lit up his face with exhilaration.

“You alright, pidge?” he turned, one shoulder staying on the wall as he rolled around to see you.

The street was empty.

Upright in an instant, Tae’s smile vanished in a second.

“Pidge?”

He was already half-yelling but couldn’t bring himself to care when everywhere he looked showed him a distinct lack of you. Spinning in circles, his eyes roamed desperately to no avail.

Breath falling in choppy pants, he set his body in motion again, driving himself to the last corner he turned, then the one before that and the next one… at every empty space, his heart dropped agonisingly.

No no no, he had lost you! He was supposed to be getting you back home, safe and sound.

As much as he didn’t want you to go, this was never in the plan.

Forced to give up, though he must have been running for some time, he dropped his gaze to the flowers still held loosely in his hand.

Petals collided with concrete as Taehyung turned away.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments always welcome and appreciated💜come chat with me!

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[rostovs-lover]

garble

din djarin x reader | electrocution mention, fretting over the baby, mando is a touch insecure of his parenting skills | fluff | gender neutral | wc.1082

i wrote this whole thing in one night and it hasn’t been edited the best, very sorry. i hope you enjoy!!

blxckhearthood :  Hi love! Whenever you have the time was wondering if you could write a mandalorian fanfic/imagine where the reader & Din get into an argument about letting Grogu go work on the wires & have in end in a cute cuddly way? 🥺 Please & thank you & hope you're staying safe & heathy & hydrated! 🤍

Mando thinks the child could do a good job on the wires, you disagree.

    The bed tucked into a nook of the Razor Crest was small and cramped but it was far more comfortable than any of the places you’d slept in a while. The blankets were exactly where they’d been the morning you first landed on Tatooine, before you’d met Vanth or taken Peli’s passenger. It had been worth it, reuniting the Mother with her husband but by the time all was said and done and you were on your way to find Ashoka Tano you were all exhausted.

        After the crash, the Crest had been practically destroyed and its repair was hardly that, it was in some shape to fly, but that even seemed risky. All of this didn’t even begin to cover the creatures you had found inside. The baby had eaten one but you had also found one in the shower. At least your bed had been untouched.

    Another problem with the new and improved Razor Crest was the exposed wires, more how often they needed repair. The hole was terribly small and Din couldn’t get in much past his shoulder, with a bit of finessing you could get in just a bit farther than him but not far enough to really fix anything. To reattach wires you had to see and seeing wasn’t possible with how small the space was. You had tried to feel, moving with Din’s guidance, to reattach things but that hadn’t gone as well as planned. You had put the wire into the wrong port and it sent a sharp jolt of electricity all the way up to your shoulder. You had gasped, jolting your arm out and stumbling back. It stung for a moment before dissolving into an uncomfortable tingle.

    “The kid would fit,” The Mandalorian said, hoisting the child up into his arms.

    You glared up at him, “No, absolutely not.”

    “He’ll be fine, he can do it,” Din looked at the child, “You can, you’re tough,”

    “No,” You reached up, pulling the Child from your companion and cradling him in the arm you could feel, “He can’t, he's too small,”

    Din crossed his arms, “Exactly, he's small, he’ll fit,”

    You pulled the Child closer, “What if he gets hurt? He could get electrocuted, what then Mando?”

    He sighed, “He’ll be fine, I’ll watch him,” Mando opened his arms to you, “Give him to me, I promise it’ll be alright,”

    But you were still reluctant, not willing to give up your hold on your child yet, “Think about what a shock will do to him, he's not equip for that.”

    Din motioned for the child again, “He's gonna be fine, he can take it. I promise,” The affirmation cracked your resolve and you surrendered, giving up the Child to his father. Din squatted down in front of the hole and set the child inside, “Go on, crawl down there,” The boy cooed and tilted his head so Mando pointed, “Down there kid,”

    With a bit of instruction, the Child finally understood what he was being told and shuffled down to the panel. The wires seemed infinitely bigger in his small grasp and he stared at them with awe. Anxiety burned through your chest as you watched your child fiddle with high powered electrics. You did not enjoy him being in there, the parental instinct yearning to have him back in your arms. You hadn’t meant to get as attached to the little green thing as you had but here you were, fretting over his wellbeing.

    “Careful,” Din mumbled to the child, “Yeah, you’ve got the right wire. Now put it- No. no don’t touch-” A sharp zip shot out and smoke began to dribble out.

    Your chest tightened, “What did I tell you?” You hissed, pushing past the Mandalorian and reaching in for your boy. He tugged him out and held him up for inspection. A thin layer of soot covered his small cheeks and his robes were dirty but he waved his paws and giggled down at you. He wasn’t hurt.

    “See, he's just fine.” Din chided, but he still took the child from you to look over himself. When satisfied with his son’s safety he nodded, “Just fine,”

    “Do you want me to try that wire again?” You asked.

    He shook his head, “No, it's fine. It just hooks to a steering mechanism but it's not important. Not important enough to deal with now at least, I won’t need it to land.” He adjusted the kid and turned back to the cockpit. You followed, settling into the passenger seat and staring out of the windscreen in the abyss.

    Din flicked a switch overhead and began to check things on the console, “You worry too much,” His voice was even, there was no malintent behind his words, just an observation.

    “Do I?” You turned the seat to look at him.

    “You do,” He nodded, “It's not bad, it's just something you do. You’re a good person, a good parent, so you overthink things.”

    “Should I… stop?”

    “No, definitely not.”

    You grinned at him and waggled your eyebrows, “You’re right, its probably good to have one cautious party on this team.” It was quiet for a moment before you spoke again, “For the record, Din, you’re also a good parent.” He didn’t respond, “You really are, overly cautious or not. The baby is lucky to have you, I mean you were sent to kill him. Not many people would have had the compassion to spare his life,”

    “He was just a kid, I couldn’t have killed him. No one could have,”

    You shook your head, “He had a bounty out on him for a long time after you saved him. People are ruthless, but not you. You are good and kind.” Din grunted in acknowledgment, “You’re wonderful, you really are,”

    “I… thank you.” He turned to you, “But where did the ‘good dad’ speech come from?”

    You shrugged, “You brought it up, I just felt like you needed to know as well,”

    He sighed, “Well, I appreciate it,”

    You nodded, “As long as you know,”

    The Child babbled up at you from his pram, waving his little green paws. It was astonishing, how in tune the boy was with the both of you, almost as if he could sense your conversation. When he let out more garbled gibberish you picked him up and provided him one of your fingers to play with. He smiled, content. Content with the both of you, content with the world.

[eideticmemory]

FINE LINE 3 | SPENCER REID

Two decades of history and two kids later, you and your ex-husband learn to navigate the world of co-parenting. Part 3! Read Part 2 Here!

If you saw typos, no you didn’t ❤️

Word Count: 3,165.

Warning: Daddy issues, mommy issues, angst, romance, drama, yay!

PART 3: EDEN

Eden Penelope Reid was conceived on the twenty-sixth of September, on a ugly, yellow couch in the BAU briefing room. Not two feet from the roundtable! You didn’t mean for it to happen. The sex . . . or the baby. But they were both the result of a dark, disturbing case, sleep deprivation, a long plane ride back to DC, and an encounter in a dark room after everyone had gone home. 

Spencer placed a long and slimy kiss to your lips, almost like he had been holding it from you for days. You stepped back, jolted, and you would’ve fallen backwards had Spencer not had his arms around you. 

“What on earth are you doing?” you whispered, your voice still laced with shock and surprise. 

“Wha — what do you mean . . . ?” Spencer asked, genuine confusion plastered over that pretty face of his. “I thought that’s why we came in here?” 

“Oh, my goodness, I came in here to grab my things and go home, Hugh Hefner, where is your mind?”

“My mind’s on you,” he murmured, nuzzling your body into his, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Always.”

“Hm,” you hummed, your eyes fluttering closed as he gave you a dreamy kiss. “You’ve always had that verbal thing . . . quick mind, soft lips. You could talk your way into anything, Spencer Reid.”

“Yeah?” he mumbled, his lips pressed feverishly  to yours. “Anything?”

“Yeah . . . anything.” 

Stepping out of the shower and drying off, surrounded by the scent of fresh lavender, you wrapped yourself in a cotton towel. Your outfit was laid across the bed, from the top to the pants to the black flats. It felt a little morbid, as if you were staring at a dress made for a funeral. But, God, let’s face it, you’re just being dramatic. 

You tied your hair up, and dropped the towel to your toes, warmth caught under the surface. As you took your shirt between your fingers, your bedroom door swung open with an intense creak, and you jumped out of your skin. 

“Ah!” You screamed, hugging the fabric against your body, crouching down to hide any and every inch of your figure. “Spencer!”

“Whoa!” He crowed, immediately backing out of the room. “Sorry!”

“What the hell?” You shouted. You hugged the shirt, pressing it to your chest, your torso, one arm outstretched to cover your legs. 

“I’m sorry, [y/n], I thought you were dressed!”

“Yeah, right . . . pervert. What are you doing here? I’m meeting you at the office in an hour.”

“I told you I was dropping by in the morning.”

“So?”

“So . . . here I am.”

“Sorry, I’m just not used to you being somewhere when you say you are, my mistake.” 

He shook his head to himself, chin ducked down to avert his eyes, “I came to ask if you’d like a ride this morning? After we drop the kids off?”

“A ride?” You responded, quickly dressing yourself to maneuver an icky, uncomfortable situation. “We’re carpooling to therapy?”

“If you want,” he shrugged. “Thought we could get breakfast, maybe.”

You scoffed, and rolled your eyes as you marched towards the door. Prepared to confront Spencer with a bit of sass and sarcasm, you were taken aback by the sight of him. Early in the morning, hair perfectly curled around his face, and he was dressed in a wrinkle-free, perfectly pressed black suit. Like the ones you used to buy for him, just to see the way he moved in them. 

“I think I’ll pass,” you told him. “I told the kids I’d take them to school today, and they’ve already got their hearts set on getting Dunkin’ this morning, so . . .”

“So, I’ll see you at the office,” he nodded, solemnly. 

You returned the nod with a gentle motion of your head, and as you turned to walk off, Spencer aligned beside you, ultimately following you through the hall. “You look good,” he said. You didn’t respond, just released a silent exhale while focusing your attention forward. “It’s nice to know that . . . some things are still as nice as I remember.”

You laughed -- head thrown back, mouth open, the sound erupting like a volcano. “It’s not,” you explained, looking him in the eye as you approached the stairs. “It’s better.”

Four weeks after Eden Penelope Reid was conceived, you were in Texas, a small town outside of Austin haunted by a head of murders throughout the area. You can’t remember specifically what the town was called because you were so, fucking, sick. You woke up with a headache, nausea threatening to spill by the second, and a stomach ache that wouldn’t kick it. It was bad. 

But you know how to put on a Brave Face. You pushed through, even with your husband’s voice echoing in your ear, close to your ear, his worried hand on your back. 

“[y/n],” he pleaded. “You’re sick, just — please.”

“Spencer, I’m fine. I’m up, I’m walking, that’s a good sign. I’m okay.” 

You visited a crime scene not fifteen minutes later. It was hot, very hot, suffocatingly hot, and you felt yourself. You felt yourself wobble on your heels. Felt the life just fall out of you, like gravity had sucked it into the Earth. Spencer called your name as your body fell. 

“Mom?” E called, the sound of the traffic blending in with her voice. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, hun,” you glanced at her, balancing your attention between E and the road. “Why?”

“You’ve been hitting your juul more than usual lately,” she explained. 

“What?” you gasped. “No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have. You’re driving with it in your hand right now!”

“On average, mom hits the juul 16 times an hour, but she’s just hit it seven times in the last five minutes,” Em added from the backseat.

“There. Statistics to back me up,” E gloated. 

“I’m fine!” you laughed. “Really. I’m more than fine.” 

“Really? So the sudden nicotine uptake has nothing to do with your super secret meeting with dad this morning?” E asked. 

“It is not a super secret meeting, it’s two parents, meeting for a discussion.” 

“Right . . . not secret at all.” She nodded. 

You sighed, “A secret is an awful thing to keep. You can ask your Aunt Emily about that one, but, you know I’d never keep a secret from you,” you smiled. 

“Right,” she nodded, suspicious at your sudden change in tone. “You sure you’re not keeping a secret, mom?”

“Are you profiling me?”

“Okay, enough with the profiling jokes.” 

“No. Why? Are you keeping a secret from me?” you piqued. It’s been buried. For almost a week now. E, and the boy, as you call him. For a few days, you just needed solitude, time to process and understand. After that, came the confrontational period, well, as confrontational as you get with Eden. Which means you dropped subtle hints until she just thought you were being weirded than usual. But now, she had reason to be suspicious that you were suspicious, and two suspicious Reid women don’t make a mix.

“No?” She responded, slowly, her eyebrow raising at you. “Why?”

“No?” You paused to take a breath. “Okay.” “What does that mean?” “Nothing.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” E asked, her arms now crossed over her chest. Not good. She’s defensive. E’s never defensive.

“See, that’s just the same as the secret thing we had going earlier,” you joked.

“Ugh,” E groaned. 

“What?”

“You always get like this,” she shook her head.

“Like what?” “Like this when dad comes around!”

You stopped the car, the brakes skidding to a halt at the school entrance. “Are you -- E, this isn’t about your dad, this is . . . about that boy. That boy that kissed you at your party. The boy who kissed my sixteen year old daughter on the cheek.” “What?” E snapped, sitting up in her seat.

Em slid out of the car, ran to class.

“I mean,” you rambled. “ I have an eidetic memory, E, I can’t unsee that!”

“See that . . . ?“ she whispered to herself. You could see the wires clicking in your head.  Her eyes widened, “You saw that? You saw --” She began to pack up her stuff, scrambling really, grabbing her iced coffee. 

“E --” you stuttered. “What are you doing? Hey, hey, talk to me.” “I’m late for school, mom, I’ll text you.”

“E --”

“Bye.” you were cut off by the sound of the  car door slamming in your face. If ‘what the fuck?’ could be a facial expression, you were wearing it right now. 

You had a concussion when the doctor told you about Eden Penelope Reid. You had fallen on the concrete, and couldn’t really see straight. You felt Spencer though. He was holding your arm and supporting your wobbling body with his since you’d hoped straight out of the hospital bed. 

“Congratulations, Mrs. Reid,” The doctor smiled at you.

“Huh? What? Congratulations?” You slurred, tired and confused and looking to your husband. 

“Oh, I’m . . . sorry, I thought of you . . .” After exchanging glances with Spencer, she sighed and beared another grin. “You’re . . . pregnant. About five weeks along.”

You fainted. Again. 

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, following your fast footsteps with his eyes. 

You rounded the edge of the couch and took a seat beside him, huffing as you plopped down, only to give him a glance of acknowledgement.

“You’re late, I thought you got lost,” he said.

“Nope, just took the scenic route,” you grumbled. “Hi, I’m [y/n],” you directed at the therapist sitting across from you. She wore dark red lipstick and a matching blouse, her nails a deep purple over her slacks. Okay. Cool.

“Olivia Oliphant,” she nodded kindly. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” “Oh, just [y/n], please,” you told her. 

“Well, [y/n], Spencer here was just telling me about your kids.”

“Oh?” You looked at Spencer. “He was?”

“Yep, Eden and Emerson, beautiful names. How did you guys pick them?” 

When you were approximately five weeks pregnant with Eden Penelope Reid, you felt the most excruciating pain of your life. That’s including two rounds of childbirth, some beatings, a bullet wound.  You clamp down on your lower stomach, grasping for air as you collapsed to the floor, in the middle of a crowded police station. Penelope rushed to your side, calling your name, “Oh, my goodness, [y/n], what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” “I don’t --” you whimpered. “Something’s not -- ow! -- something’s not right!” Local PD helped you to your feet, a worried Garcia following behind them. “C--call Spencer!” You pleaded, although the phone was already to her ear.

Spencer had just been shot in the neck. 

They didn’t think he was going to make it. They didn’t think he was going to make it. You beat Derek, pounding your fists into his chest for not telling you sooner, broke down in the center of the waiting room.

But he did make it.

He made it, and he was right here. He was right here, and you were right here, and E was at school, mad at you, and it was eating you alive. Did you completely undo your ‘cool mom’ reputation with one meltdown? No, how could you? 

“[y/n]?” Dr. Oliphant called. 

You zoned back into reality, both Spencer’s and her concerned faces focused in on you. 

“Yes,” you cleared your throat. “Well, Eden is named after East of Eden by John Steinback, and . . . Emerson is named after Ralph Waldo Emerson.” 

“And,” she began. “Would you say your kids are your main reason for being in therapy?”

“Oh, wow, okay, just jumping into it, got it,” you huffed. 

Spencer was still eyeing you, worried and troubled. He knows you. He knows when you’re upset, and stressed, and he couldn’t stop staring at your nails. “Uh . . .” you hummed. “Hm? . . . hm? Would I say that there’s any other reason I’m in therapy for sixty minutes with my ex-husband? No.”

“[y/n].” Spencer spoke, turning his body full to you. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” you shook your head. 

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “ I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Yes, yes, yes, you’d ask what’s wrong, and I nothing’ed my way through our marriage and we got divorced. I know.” 

“Jesus,” he sighed, exasperated, pressing his palm to his forehead. 

An awkward silence floated throughout the room for what felt like hours. You stared at your shoes, and huffed. Lifting your head up to smile at Dr. Oliphant, you said, “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

There was an earthquake in California the day Eden Penelope Reid was born. A magnitude of four. This would not have mattered in the slightest -- due to the fact that you were on the other side of the country -- but Spencer was there. In California, sitting in the dark, surrounded by broken glass when Eden was born. 

She came at night, after your water broke at the BAU headquarters. You spent hours of the day stumbling around a hospital room, waiting for Spencer to show. Penelope’s quick with a phone, she knew hours before you finally asked her.

“Penelope?” You whimpered, curled up in the bed with your hand pressed to your back. 

“Yes?” She pipped.

“Spencer’s not coming . . .” you turned to her. “Is he?”

“We’ve got to talk.”

You glanced over your shoulder, rolling your eyes, “Spencer, please.”

“[y/n], come on,” he pleaded. 

You looked him in the eye, sighing as you leaned back in your seat. You could hear the kids shuffling around upstairs, having just been dropped off by Spencer, who was stern and pressed. It was kind of funny. 

“I was in a bad mood,” you told him.

“Bad mood? [y/n], you sat there for forty-five minutes sipping your coffee every time Dr. Oliphant asked you a question so you couldn’t talk with a full mouth.”

“Bad mood . . .” you repeated, this time quieter, softer, to yourself. 

Spencer’s expression softened, almost instantly. “[y/n]?” he called. “What happened? You’ve been biting your nails, I know something’s wrong.”

You crumbled. You ran yours hands over your face and sobbed. From that moment Spencer and you saw E with that boy, you’ve been reliving it over and over. Trying to recognize his face, and it wasn’t until just last night that you realized it’s . . . Spencer. This boy looks just like Spencer, and you can’t even figure out how you feel about Spencer, -- who you didn’t meet until you were 23, by the way -- let alone this kid.

So how is E doing? How is she already so comfortable around him? And kissing. Have they kissed before? You don’t want to know. No. You do want to know. It’s all you want. You want the most important girl in your life to talk to you, to confide in you the way she did when she was seven years old. But now she’s sixteen and she won’t even look at you. 

“And of course, I found a way to blame it on you,” you paused to breath after a long rant. “Because, well, you’re here, which is still weird to me, but hey,” you shrugged, inhaling a hit from your juul. 

Spencer nodded his head understandingly, biting down on his to contain a smile. “Now, that . . . is how you should’ve spoken in therapy this morning.” He laughed. 

You chuckled, for the first time all day, and rolled your eyes, “Next time.”

“Next time?” He grinned. After connecting his eyes to yours, and seeing a glimmer of confirmation, he sat up, “Well, okay, cool. Then, next time I’ll tell you that you are the best mother on the planet. Raising the kids the way you did . . . you made Eden who she is. You made that incredible girl, and you shaped her into the slightly . . . stubborn girl she is today. She is her mother’s daughter, she just needs someone to push past the hardhead every once in a while.”

You exhaled, a slow, steady breath.

Spencer.

He stayed until Sunday afternoon. Just like he said he would. A whole day after you wandered into E’s room, full of fresh courage and love. You asked her if she was hungry, and she said no. By the time you left, you had a name. Sullivan.

“Sullivan?” You repeated. “Does he go by Sully?” You cackled.

“When he was six!” She shouted, a fit of giggles dribbling from her lips. “He goes by Van now.” “Oh, my goodness,” you feigned as though you were collapsing on the bed. “Van?”

“Yes! Hey, don’t judge! You married a guy named Spencer.”

“[y/n]! [y/n]? [y/n] --” Spencer’s voice lowered to immediately silence the moment he stepped into the room. Under the hospital lights, you laid on a bed, a tiny baby in your arms and a soft smile on your face.

“Don’t be shy now,” you giggled. “Come in.”

He stepped into the room, slowly, his breath shaky from running down the halls. “I--is, is this her?”

“No, I misplaced the actual baby, so they gave me a very life-like doll,” you smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, placing a million and one kisses to your forehead. “You’re incredible, you did -- incredible,” he held you close, looking down at the infant against your chest. “So, what’s her name? You did remember to pick one, didn’t you?”

“Yep, UnSub --”

“[y/n] . . .” he smiled.

You laughed, holding your child up to her father. “This . . . is Eden Penelope Reid.”

Spencer didn’t come out of his room for hours before he was set to leave on Sunday. As worried as you were, you kept to entertaining the kids in the living room. The two of them were snacking on some popcorn, watching a movie on netflix. Em was tucked underneath your arm, and you did your very, very best to focus in on the TV. But the moment you heard the hinge of his bedroom door, you sat up in your seat. 

He came down the steps in a stomping rage. Didn’t even come in to join you all, just called for you, “[y/n] . . . [y/n], can you come here, please?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and stood to your feet, nervously eyeing the kids. “Be right back,” you told them, before walking out into the foyet. 

“Okay . . .” Spencer said, just above a quiet whisper. “Okay, okay . . .” He was trying to calm himself down. Pacing, muttering, hands on his hips.

“Spencer?” You walked up to him. “Hey, what’s the matter? Hey . . .”

“I’ve had . . . some time to process, some time to fully understand the information, but I know that you, haven’t, so I’m going to get to it . . . Catherine Adams is being injected tomorrow.”

Crickets. Silence. No sobs, no boo-hoos, nothing. “And?” You replied. “Are we throwing a party? Because that can be arranged.”

“And in exchange for her cooperation in multiple homicide investigations . . .” Spencer sighed, his head ducked down, hands in his pockets. “She gets a final request.”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes, “What does she want now? A night with you at the Ritz? Just give it to her at this point so she’ll kick the bucket.” 

“She wants to see Eden.”

“Wha --” The sound slipped out before you could catch it. Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. So many. And all you could say was, “No. Absolutely-fucking-not . . . fuck!”

“[y/n] --”

“The psycho who had my daughter kidnapped wants to . . . meet her? She can go straight to hell, and suffer on the way there.” 

And that was the moment, Eden Penelope Reid stepped into the doorway, her hands stern at her side, her face brazen with courage and strength, “I want to do it.”

[pearlsephoni]

ItaFushi Week 2021, Day 1: Sharing a Meal

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: G

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: ItaFushi (Itadori/Fushiguro)

Characters: Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki

Word Count: 1,855

Summary: In the aftermath of the ambush during the Goodwill Event, Yuuji is faced with the grief he left behind when he was in hiding.

A/N: Author’s notes can be read on AO3.

All things considered, Fushiguro had been lucky. He had escaped the curse spirit ambush with bad injuries, sure, but nothing a little time with Ieiri and an afternoon in bed wouldn’t fix. Or at least, that was what Gojo had told Yuuji. 

But Yuuji still couldn’t shake the guilt that had weighed on him since he’d popped out of the cart and been faced by Kugisaki’s angry tears and Fushiguro’s shocked stare. He could ignore it well enough when his focus was needed for his and Todo’s fight against Hanami. Now, though, alone in his room with a silence that was only broken by the occasional shuffles from Fushiguro through the wall...Yuuji felt both leaden and restless, exhausted and buzzing with energy, nervous and excited to see his friend. 

A text from Kugisaki was what finally pulled him out of bed. Against Ieiri’s recommendations, Kugisaki was determined to have a pizza lunch to celebrate their survival of the event’s first day, and Yuuji was only too happy to wire over his share of the delivery price. 

Yuuji: make sure you order meat pizza!  we need meat to recover from today! 

Kugisaki: u need vegetables too, idiot. thx for the money! 

“Don’t use my money for veggies, asshole,” Yuuji mumbled as he made his way next door. 

He’d forgotten his nerves over facing Fushiguro, but they crashed back into him when he faced his door. He knew, logically, Fushiguro wouldn’t be mad at him. He wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge like that. But he also knew, logically, Fushiguro would be well within his rights to still be pissed over Yuuji being alive for weeks without telling him. He’d seen the anger flashing in those blue eyes whenever Yuuji mentioned something that had happened, but it was just as quick to go away as it was to rear its head. 

At the end of the day, though, Yuuji was alive. However Fushiguro felt about the secrets between them, he had to still be happy about that. 

That thought finally let Yuuji’s back straighten and his fist knock against the door. “Come in.” 

“Yo, Fushiguro!” Yuuji called as he opened the door. “Woah! You’re looking good!” 

He really did. Sure, he was wearing pajamas and in bed while the sun was in the sky, something that he would never do in good health. But his back was straight as he sat there, and Yuuji couldn’t see any blood or bandages, and he distinctly remembered how battered he had looked before Panda carried him away. 

Fushiguro apparently didn’t agree. “Please stop saying that when I’m injured.” 

“Hey, I say it other times too!” 

“That’s not the point.” 

Yuuji was too focused on wheeling Fushiguro’s old desk chair over to the bed to notice the intensity in his eyes and the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You didn’t eat yet, right? Kugisaki’s grabbing some pizza for us, so we can have a pizza party!” 

“Shouldn’t we be eating something healthier after everything that happened today?” 

“Nah, we should have something tasty! And I told her to make sure to get a pizza with lots of meat, so you can get better fast!” He plopped into the chair, making the old thing creak with his weight, before he caught sight of Fushiguro’s gaze on him. “...What? You feeling alright, man?” 

He reached out to press his hand against Fushiguro’s forehead, falling back on instinct from his days by his grandfather’s bed. He didn’t think about how Fushiguro would respond until it was too late, the other boy’s hand wrapping around his wrist just as his fingertips brushed his forehead. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t-”

His words died on his tongue when Fushiguro didn’t let go. Instead, his fingers found Yuuji’s pulse just as Yuuji’s heart jolted in his chest at the feeling of their skin pressing together. “W-what’s going on, Fushiguro?” 

“Quiet.” Yuuji’s jaw clacked shut automatically, leaving him silent and flushing as he watched Fushiguro. The other boy’s fingers were firm against his wrist, and with each passing second, he slowly, gradually relaxed, until his forehead came to rest gently against Yuuji’s limp hand. “You’re really alive.” 

“Huh? Yeah, of course I am! Didja think I was a zombie out there?” Yuuji winced under the hard stare he received, his cheerful smile faltering at the grief that still tinged that blue gaze. 

“That would make more sense than you suddenly coming back to life,” Fushiguro grumbled. “You were dead, Itadori.” 

“I…I know.” 

“No, listen to me. I saw Sukuna rip your heart out, and I couldn’t do anything to save you. I was useless, and you were dead. I saw you die. And then suddenly you came back, and we didn’t even get to talk before you were risking your stupid life again. You told me not to worry, you said you wouldn’t die, but I couldn’t believe you. How could I?” 

The words left him in a rush, as though they were spilling out faster than he could say them. He was speaking more than Yuuji had ever heard him speak before, and his throat clenched with guilt the more Fushiguro spoke. By the time he fell quiet again, Yuuji could barely choke out the words, “I’m sorry.” 

“…Don’t apologize. I don’t blame you.” 

“Still. I’m so sorry, Fushiguro. I didn’t…I didn’t think…” Fushiguro’s fingers loosened around his wrist, but before he could pull away, Yuuji grabbed at his hand. “I swear, Fushiguro,” his fingers tightened around Fushiguro’s, “I swear I’ll never make you feel like that again. I’ll keep training and I’ll get stronger and I’ll make sure you never go through anything like that again. Or, I mean…not because of me.”

“Okay,” Fushiguro murmured after a moment of searching for something in Yuuji’s eyes. “Then I promise the same.” 

“Okay!” A relieved smile broke across Yuuji’s face, and he distantly noted the dusting of pink that appeared on Fushiguro’s cheeks. “Okay. Good!”

“Ughhhhh, gross.” 

Their hands jerked apart and their gazes jumped from each other to the door, where Kugisaki stood with a pizza box balanced in one hand. “I go get us this delicious pizza, and you repay me by making me a third wheel?” 

“What’re you talking about?” Fushiguro grumbled, barely audible over Yuuji’s excited, “Pizza’s here! What kind did you get?” 

“A kind that you better eat. I’m not gonna grab another one.” 

“Not even for your bedridden friend?” 

“Shut it. You don’t get to guilt trip me, you sneaky liar.” Kugisaki’s voice was flippant, but her eyes flashed with a genuine hurt that Yuuji recognized from Fushiguro’s eyes just moments before. “Still can’t believe Gojo-sensei didn’t let you tell us you weren’t dead.” 

“Yeah, I’m...I’m really sorry, Kugisaki.” 

“You don’t- it’s just-” She let out a huff as she dropped the pizza box onto Fushiguro’s lap and dragged a stool to the other side of his bed. “Can you at least tell us what happened to you? You were gone for weeks, dude.” 

Yuuji was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on fingers that plucked at a stray thread in the blanket while he searched for the right words. “I…I lost a friend. During my first mission after training. Did you hear about that?” 

“Yeah. Gojo told us,” Fushiguro said, his voice soft.

Yuuji's eyes drifted back up to Fushiguro’s as he nodded. “I really thought I could save him. I thought I could bring him here, introduce him to you guys and help him finally have a happier life. But he was turned into a curse and killed before I could even do anything. Just like that, he was gone. I didn’t know I could feel so angry and sad and useless. And I didn’t realize you could’ve felt the same way after…after you saw me die, Fushiguro.” 

His voice caught, forcing him to stop and clear his throat. In the brief silence, Kugisaki solemnly handed him a slice of pizza, a gesture that was so out of place, yet so earnest, that Yuuji couldn’t help cracking a small smile before he continued. “A lot of people died that day, and after all of it, I still couldn’t put up a good enough fight. I still had to rely on Nanamin. I think...I think that’s why I was so reckless today. I saw how badly I hurt you guys by not telling you the truth, and I wanted to prove to you all and to myself that it was worth something. That I at least got a little stronger.” 

There was another moment of silence as the other two watched him, letting him blink away the threat of tears and making sure he was done talking. Then, finally, Fushiguro spoke. “You did. You got a lot stronger. I didn’t think you could pull off that kind of growth, but you proved me wrong.” 

Yuuji squinted at him with a small frown. Those words seemed genuine, and he couldn’t see any sign of mockery on Fushiguro’s face, and yet...“Hey, you trying to call me a slow learner?” 

“You’re fast in many ways, Itadori-kun,” Kugisaki sighed, “but not when you have to use your brain.” 

“What the hell! I spill my heart out to you, and you decide to bully me? What kind of ‘welcome back’ is this?” 

“It’s not a ‘welcome back’ for you, it’s a ‘get well soon’ for Fushiguro.” 

“Please don’t pull me into this,” Fushiguro muttered, “You two just wanted an excuse to get pizza.” 

“Besides,” Kugisaki continued loudly in an attempt to drown out Fushiguro, “you still need to do me a favor before I truly forgive you.” 

“Huh?!” 

“Carry my bags for me on my next shopping trip, and all will be forgiven.” The hand that wasn’t holding pizza reached across the bed for Yuuji to shake, as though they were sealing a business deal. For all her bratty formality, Yuuji could see the “favor” for what it truly was: an invitation, a sign of forgiveness in and of itself. Kugisaki wanted to spend time with him, a far cry from the girl who had sighed at the first sight of him. 

Yuuji’s cheeks ached from how wide his smile stretched as he eagerly took her hand. “Deal!” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Itadori-san.” 

“And with you, Kugisaki-san.” 

“Are you gonna eat this pizza,” Fushiguro muttered, trying and failing to bite back his small grin, “or are you gonna keep this up until it’s cold?” 

Yuuji obediently bit into his slice as he eyed the other boy. “Hey, Fushiguro,” he mumbled around his mouthful, “you’re gonna come with us right?” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

“I need someone to keep me company when Kugisaki’s stuck in the dressing room.” 

“Itadori, you-” 

“Gojo will probably make me come to babysit you two anyway,” Fushiguro said, cutting off Kugisaki, who glared daggers at Yuuji, “so yeah. I’ll come.” 

Gojo was a flimsy excuse, one that crumpled under the widening grin on Fushiguro’s lips. That grin almost turned into a proper smile when Yuuji beamed back at him. “Good!”

[heavenbarnes]

i saw you once in a dream

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

i will probably write some cute 70s wanda smut soon (probably based off this gif if you know what i’m saying), but i’ve been unable to stop thinking of this concept so here we go x

Wanda hummed quietly to herself as she brought the wooden spoon around the edges of the pot. It simmered away on the stove as the aromas of tonight’s dinner filled the kitchen and wafted through to the living room.

Her ears perked up at the sound of the front door, followed by the sweetest sound she’d come to love.

“Honey, I’m home.” You called out as you lent through your front door, turning to just about nobody with a keen wink.

Shuffling through the front door, you hung your bag up on the rack as you came into your home. The smells of Wanda’s incredible cooking filled up your senses as you neared the kitchen. 

Seeing her standing there in her apron, shiny hair curled back off her face, long skirt cascading over her legs. You could hear the sounds of your platformed sandals against the linoleum as you neared closer to her.

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck as she spoke. “Honey, now I’m home.”

Humming contently at her kindness, you had to be quick to swipe a finger through her cooking, darting it into your mouth before she could catch you. She simply shook her head with a laugh, putting a hand on her hip as she watched you back up.

“Taste delicious, you seem to get better every time you make it!” You cleaned the remnants off your finger, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter.

“Well it wont be as good if you keep dipping your fingers in.” She scalded, however, unable to hide the smile that kept tweaking at her cheeks.

Wanda watched you sort through the mail on the counter, your tongue poked out to the side as you read. Her heart seemed to bloom, knowing she’d found her happiness in the simplest of things you did. In that moment she felt her heart pang, an ever present reminder tugging at it.

She cleared her mind, unwilling to think of those unwanted thoughts always encroaching in these times. Looking back to you, she eased her own worry, here you were and you were hers.

Darting your head up from the mail, you caught her eyes, smiling sweetly back at her as you sorted out your bills and junk notices. You couldn’t help but notice how sweet she looked as she stirred dinner, getting lost in her aromatic creations.

You didn’t know how you got so lucky, didn’t know how you got to this point where she was your wife and you hers. All you knew was you had a lot to be grateful for, even if you couldn’t remember it.

The phone ringing on the wall snapped you from your thoughts, pushing up on your hip to trot over to it. Picking it up and pressing it to your ear, you made a confused face at your wife, wondering who could be calling at this hour.

“Hello, Maximoff residence?”

Wanda watched as you listened for the identity of your caller, twirling the curly cable around your fingers as you did. In that moment, your face lit up with a smile in knowing. Gently, you moved the receiver to your chest as you whispered.

“It’s Bucky!”

You brought the phone back to your ear to keep speaking, but dropped it in an instant as a searing pain shot through your hand. It was so nasty that it made you jump back, wondering if a faulty wire had shocked you.

“My goodness, I’ve just had the worst-” Another jolt of incredible pain ran through your other hand, rendering you speechless as you gripped onto it.

Looking to Wanda, you expected her to match your looks of concern, but rather she looked almost lost. Another burst of pure fire rippled along your hands as it nearly brought you to your knees, a cry ripping through your chest.

“Wanda, baby, something’s really wrong.” Throwing your hands towards her, you made pleading eyes with your wife for some help.

“He’s ruined it, it’s all gone wrong.” Was all she managed to say, eyes going to the floor rather than being able to look at you.

An incredulous look swam across your face, shaking your head as you reached out towards her again, still feeling those same rivers of pain coursing through your hands.

“Wanda, I don’t know what you’re talking about but-” You shot a hand out behind you to brace yourself on the wall when suddenly you were going through it.

With the most gentle of presses, the plasterboard gave way and you had made a fist-sized hole in your kitchen wall. The yelp you let out was in sheer surprise, unable to make sense of anything that was happening around you.

“How did- what is happening- why did?”

“Your enhanced strength, it’s coming back, this is all wrong.”

If anything was making sense, your wife sure wasn’t it. The way she spoke, it was all rushing past your ears as if she was speaking a foreign language, all you could focus on was the pain and the confusion and the-

Tipping your head back, you’d never felt so exhausted. Your skin felt tight from the tears that’d soaked in, your eyes still steadily watering with everything that occurred around you. You just wanted it all to stop.

“Wanda, we have to stop doing this.”

You looked to your friend, seeing her there with that same look of determination on her face. She shook her head, screwing her eyes and fists up as she let a deep sigh rack through her body.

“Please, Wanda, I just want to stop and I want to see Bucky-”

“No! Stop, just stop!”

Another tear rolled down your face as you saw what’d become of your best friend. You knew it’d torn her apart when she lost Vision, it’d hurt her, but this wasn’t how things were meant to be.

“Wanda, I love you but not like this, love isn’t meant to burn.”

You’d always known she had deeper feelings for you than she once let on, but you never thought it’d come to this. Wanda knew you were with Bucky, she knew you loved him and he, you. She had warped the reality around you for so long, so often, you were trapped in this space where nothing felt real.

“I can’t stop, it’s all wrong and I have to get it right.”

Your pleading fell on unwilling ears, tuning out to your cries as she closed her eyes and began to move her hands. You could follow the coursing of energy as she moved the world around you, another tear rolling against your cheek before it all set in.

Wanda hummed quietly to herself as she brought the wooden spoon around the edges of the pot. It simmered away on the stove as the aromas of tonight’s dinner filled the kitchen and wafted through to the living room.

Her ears perked up at the sound of the front door, followed by the sweetest sound she’d come to love.

“Honey, I’m home.” You called out as you lent through your front door, turning to just about nobody with a keen wink.

[edourado]

Off script

I did it. I worte something in the middle of the night and finished it just now.  This is me stretching my writing muscles. It’s unrevised and more than a little bit on the “trash” department, but I wrote it, so I thought I’d share it. 

It’s Kastle. Obviously. 

I have to go. I’ll review it when I come back from the vet with my dog. 

Thanks. Bye. Hope you like it. It’s trash.

-------

She had been very matter of factly. Way more than he anticipated, and he had anticipated it. 

He, on the other hand, had been ridiculous. Completely and undeniably ridiculous, unable to act according to his own resolutions. 

Frank had, for lack of a better word, rehearsed it. Their first meeting since their last one, that one where he just vomited words on her face, spoke without thinking, acted on momentary emotions, letting his confusion, his trauma, his stubbornness and pig headedness do the talking, resulting in distance, estrangement and, most definitely, deep, profound hurt. 

It had been their first meeting since that day, but not their first contact. Surprisingly, at the same time their strange relationship agonized, hers with Madani flourished, a friendship that was both startling and predictable. 

Friendship and professional collaboration, more often than not. And it had spilled on him, this time. 

(If ever she had children, Madani would make a very overbearing mother, Frank was willing to bet. She won him over by sheer persistence, and he was known as a stubborn man himself. Not delicately or diplomatically at all, she strongarmed him into consulting on her cases, forced a “job” both on him and her agency, cornered and bullied him into working for her, only to leave him wondering how the hell he had gotten there.)

And there he was, because of two women’s partnership, sitting on a bench in Battery park, watching as the wind made long strands of Karen’s hair twirl around her face, eventually catching on her lip, only to be pulled out by a finger while she talked, looking at a bunch of papers, explaining things to him that he should be listening, he should be paying attention, but he had just missed her so much, so much more than he even knew, it was like a punch to the stomach. 

“He was in Jersey on the 7th, by my accounts, but then he was tagged on a social media post, attending a party in Dubai three days later. That time window could be important, because Alec was-”

He heard none of it. He should, Madani was chasing this guy all around the country, and now he was going international for less than kosher reasons, and it was his job to predict his movements and place him somewhere she could catch him, and Karen had all this information - when did she not? - but right now he couldn’t even remember said guy’s name, much less why he should care where he was. 

Because she looked amazing. She sounded amazing and even smelled amazing, like something fresh and coffee and paper. 

She had looked at him so strangely, a simple “hi Frank” to make him turn around when she got to his bench, a polite “you look well” after sitting down, a “no, thanks” when he asked if she wanted some coffee from the place across the street. Karen hadn’t dwelled on their previous meeting, hadn’t asked questions about what he had been up to, didn’t really give him a chance to look too deep into her eyes, focusing on the file she had for him, notes for him to pass to Madani when she came back from Moscow, because he would see her first. 

And Frank had predicted this. He wasn’t a complete moron, and his last words to her still sounded clear as day in his mind, even if he was all banged and drugged up on the occasion. He knew she would not be warm and inviting, knew she would be hurt still, even wondered if she hadn’t followed his advice on Matt Murdock, or someone else. It stung like a bitch to think about that, but he had considered it, to prepare for this ten minute lunch break meeting, he had spent almost six nights running through different scenarios in his mind, to prepare himself. 

All in vain. All of those scenarios and rehearsed routes of conversation down the drain the moment he had seen her, heels and skirt and flowy blouse, a collapsing bun on the base of her neck, the wind, the collar of her coat and her own movements pulling and pushing strands loose. 

“He does have a daughter, though, but she is not as nearly as careful as he is. Loves flaunting the rich life on Instagram, she films everything, and I got to see that her driver was the same guy that was in Jersey with-”

Curtis had been very vocal about how stupid Frank had been when he narrated the hospital room events to him, and he didn’t even know Karen. 

“I don’t know her”, he had said over beers and an ignored game on TV. “I don’t need to know her, Frank, I just need to not be an idiot. Which you are, by the way, let’s make that clear.”

If he knew her, Frank was pretty sure Curt would smack him upside the head. If he could see her right then, ticking off items from her list, her pen poised on her hand as she went, sitting there with that file on her legs, looking at Frank from time to time to see if he followed - which he definitely didn’t - the crease on her brow when she focused on an item, the sheer blue of her eyes, the curve of her neck before the collar of her coat folded over skin, those stray hair locks lifting and falling with the breeze. 

Frank realized he was sitting turned towards her when his knee touched the back of the bench. Suddenly, he realized he had an elbow where his back was supposed to be, and his hand was supporting his face while he looked - stared - at her.

He was staring, full on staring, and found himself quite unable to stop. 

“The problem is”, she went on. “I can’t find any record of him planning to go to Dubai. I don’t even know how he got there. His name is in no manifesto I can find, and his plane is still parked here.”

Frank had forgotten how good he felt whenever he heard her voice. He had come to expect the soothing sensation that washed over him when they spoke, even the funny feeling that would run through his skin whenever he knew he was gonna see her. But it had been a while, now, and it shocked him a little bit, that feeling. It made him want to close his eyes and get closer to her, maybe touch his nose to that spot under her ear, over that birthmark, to investigate further on the delicate scent of her shampoo. Or, maybe, rest his head on her legs, to enjoy the sound of her voice without worrying about keeping himself sitting straight. 

He had been far from her for many months, and suddenly he wanted to extinguish that distance, nullify it, get as close to her as he could. He found it quite a strong urge, and discovered himself both uncappable and unwilling to resist it.  

“I don’t know how long he’ll be away”, she said as he leaned closer. “But he couldn't be very long, I doubt he’d delegate that much responsibility here, there’s too much going o-”

Contradicting everything he had told himself he would say or do, Frank saw his hand, lifting and reaching for her face, in no hurry, at the same time she lifted her own hand to move another lock of hair away from her eyes.

Karen looked at him when she saw his hand, a question in her eyes, and sucked in a surprised breath just before he caught her cheek and leaned forward, noses bumping before his mouth touched hers.

Not exactly a shock. Not an electric current like he had felt when he kissed Maria for the first time, or that buzz that had happened when he kissed her cheek that one time by the waterfront. Strangely, his mouth over Karen’s felt familiar, soothing, like he had done it a million times, even if he knew very well he hadn’t, was painfully aware of every single time he did not kiss her. 

She tensed against him, and her lips parted in surprise, which had been very, very pleasant - a friction against his own lips, rearranging slightly, opening up even if involuntarily - and he was about to pull back when he noticed she didn’t. 

With absolutely no notion of time, he waited a second or maybe an hour, before he moved his mouth against hers, trying a bit, tasting a bit, enjoying a lot, instantly addicted to the peculiar feeling of kissing her. 

His hand moved on her face, and the tip of his fingers found strands of hair. The edge of his teeth found the delicate skin of her lower lip, and he nibbled on it lightly before leaning further towards her, opening his mouth and creasing his brow in pleasure when she opened up further to him, tumbling her head back a degree or two, her small sigh threatening to dismantle him there where he sat. 

Her hand found his wrist when the tip of his tongue touched hers, and there it was, that jolt, exposed live wires touching, and he tightened his grip on her face at the same time she wrenched her mouth away from his, her forehead touching his while she exhaled sharply. 

“Jesus Christ”, she whispered. “Frank, what the hell?”

“I’m an idiot” were the words that came out of his mouth, both hands on her face now, sitting sideways on that very public bench, fulfilling his fantasy of touching his nose to the patch of skin under her ear, kissing the spot his lips touched, noticing her hand on his wrist was not pulling it away, noticing her posture had slumped a bit, she relaxed against the bench. “Fuck, I’m an idiot”.

“You’re… You’re aggravating, that’s what you are”, she said, her tone suggesting a reprimand, frustration, her movements indicating surrender, head tossing back to stretch her neck under his mouth, the hand not holding his against her face pulling on the fabric of his own coat. Pulling it towards her. 

Frank smiled. 

“Right back at ya.”

It was maybe not the best place to do this. A park in the middle of the day, with parents walking their children around, people on lunch breaks - just like Karen was - coming and going to and from all directions, perhaps it was not a good idea to just close his eyes and lose track of his surroundings like this, lose himself in her mouth and focus on nothing but her kisses, how her lips pressed against his and how her mouth opened willingly, how her tongue made a sort of shiver run laps around his spine. 

She made him mellow, he realized. Not just now, she always made him want to let go of everything he was holding, from deep embedded hate and guns to the sheer notion of reality and time around him, and that’s why he pushed her away at the same time he refused to let go of her, resulting in her hurt and confusion, the definition of those “mixed signals” people loved to talk about. 

Fucking great, Frank. Good job. 

“Oh God, ok, ok, wait wait wait”, she said, extricating herself from him one more time when the file she had on top of her legs tumbled to the floor. “I have- I have to go back, to the… To the office, I’m late already, what the hell, Frank?”

He picked up the file from the floor, gathering a page that had fallen from it and batting park dust from it.     

“I’m sorry”, he breathed, not really sorry at all for today, sorry for all those other times she reached for him so hard, only to have her hand and hopes swatted away. “I’m”, he let out a sigh, looking in her eyes, huge on him, lips parted and then not, her breathing a tad heavy, cheeks flushed. 

Curt was right. He was an idiot. 

.:.

She agreed to talk to him. 

He didn’t know what they would talk about, but that’s what they agreed on. To talk later that same day, because she had to go back to work, so they had gotten up from that bench and she had smoothed a hand down her clothes, gathering herself. 

Karen started saying something about a place she new near her apartment, where they could get a coffee and talk, more private than a park, but a curl of her hair had come to rest on her collarbone, twisting elegantly on a large curl, and Frank had found himself, again, taking a step forward and interrupting her, mouth over hers, pressing not so gently, and she let out a sort of hesitant chuckle when she pushed him away this time, closing her eyes and lifting her hand to her lips, shaking her head and then looking at him again. 

Now that he had started it, it was hard to stop. 

She said she would text him the address of the cafe, and looked at him with a sort of amused expectation before she walked away.

True to her word, she did text him the name and address of a small cafe, and it looked cozy when he walked by it on his way to her place. 

Not that he planned on climbing the fire escape and sitting there for an hour before she got off work. Frank had not planned to go there, he just found himself walking, his legs taking him there by their own accord, the memory of her teeth against his lip and her tongue against his dictating where he was going, making him walk straight by the place she told him to go, around the block and up the metal ladder. 

He sat there for what felt like forever, a cold breeze nipping his face, until he heard the familiar noise of her heels against pavement, her gait like an alarm clock, and he opened the window at the same time she opened the door downstairs. 

He was ready to apologise, again, for the scare he would give her when she opened her front door to find him standing in the dark in the middle of her living room, but she just looked straight at him and shook her head, closing the door behind her again. 

“I knew it”, she said, to which he smiled in spite of himself, legs on autopilot again, taking one two three steps towards the door while she stood there taking her coat off. “Jesus, what has gotten into yo-” she started to ask before he interrupted her for the third time that day, both hands on her face, taking full advantage of the privacy of her dark apartment, opening his mouth immediately to her kisses, delighted by the arms that sneaked their way up his chest and around his neck, hands on his face and down his back, gripping the fabric of his shirt, she kissed him so fully, without any guard, and he loved her for it. 

He loved her for kissing him like this, he loved her for being so stubborn, loved her for standing up to him, standing with him, for pointing that gun at him that one time, for sitting with him in the hospital, for crying for his family, for fighting for him when she didn’t even know who the hell he was. 

Frank loved her so much and he had known it for so long, but the realization hit like a brick to the forehead nonetheless.

“You are an idiot”, she said right after kicking her shoes off and helping him off his coat. 

“Yeah”, he agreed, pulling on the string on her collarbone, undoing the knot that kept her top together. “I know.”  

[anothersadsimp]

Mechanics

Din Djarin x Mechanics! reader

Words: 28-something I forgot

Din was not a people person, and it showed. No it wasn’t the fact that he was covered in beskar and that intimidated everyone from ever approaching him. It was the silence that came with him, and how he was always a man of few words. 

You remember when you first met the Manalorian, his ship had touched down where you were working as a mechanic at the time. His ship looked like shit to put it lightly. There were blaster holes and burns, wires that could be seen, and the transparisteel had some cracks breaking out. You weren't quite expecting a man covered in pure, pristine looking beskar to walk down the ramp of the ship. Immediately your interest was piqued by the traveler.

You crossed your arms over your chest with a stern look upon your face. He was a bit taken back at how you stood there unphased by his presence. If anything you looked a little pissed with your furrowed brows and small pout.

“Your ship looks like a piece of shit.” You blatantly state nodding towards it.

He stood there looking at you through the visor, you don’t know if he was trying to intimidate you or what, but you refused to break in your own shop. Little did you know under the helmet his brows were furrowed in confusion, mouth just slightly open. It takes a moment for him to compose himself.

“I have credits.” He responds.

Your brows unfurrow and raise in amusement. “There's not enough credits in the galaxy to get this thing to work like it needs to.” 

“Just the necessities.” He says as he walks up to place some credits in your hand. 

You look down and sigh, “Ok then.” 

After that he walked off to the exit to wherever he wanted on the dustball of a planet you live on. You shout out for your clumsy R5 unit to start your music so you could get to work on the Mandalorians ship.

After a few days of TLC the ship looked decent. Not to where you wanted it but it worked. The Mandalorian walked in with an unconscious Trandoshan being dragged behind him. You were off to the side as he dragged him up into his ship, when a blaster bolt shot passed him. When you turn to see where it came from there’s another Trandoshan standing there snarling. 

You whip out a small blaster you had in the back of the waistband of your pants and start firing towards him. The Mandalorian had also started blasting, taking cover behind one of his crates. As the Trandoshan was focused on him you were able to sneak out a side door of your shop. From there you flanked him, and kicked the back of his knee before hitting him over the head with your blaster. You shove his unconscious form to the dirty ground before holstering your blaster once again. 

The Mandalorian slowly stood up from behind his cover to see you standing over him. He had barely caught you twirling your blaster in your hand before you put it back into your waistband. He was shocked as he started walking down the ramp to bind him. 

He lugged him up to his ship to freeze him into carbonite as well. He walked back down, his cape trailing behind him and he stopped in front of you.

“Thank you.” He said. 

“For what saving your ass, or saving your ship's ass?” You quip.

“Both.” He states.

You were about to say something when a small spark coming from his ship caught your attention. You walk over to see it’s a panel just inside of the cargo hold, a panel you had just worked on. 

“I just fixed this mother-” You grumbled the last bit of it and kicked the brick of carbonite that held the shooter. 

Din doesn’t remember the last time he has been intrigued by someone. You showed no signs of being intimidated by him, to the point where you're a smartass to him. You had managed to flank and knock out the brother of the bounty that he just caught, that also happened to be a Trandoshan. Then you walked up and into his ship as if you owned it, kicking a thing of his carbonite. You were tough, skilled, and someone that clearly knows how to handle things.

“I could use another pair of hands.” He offers. 

You turn your head up, looking at where he stands a little further down the ramp, “Are you offering me a job?”

He nods, “I can pay handsomely.” 

Your arms are crossed and you shift your weight onto your other foot. You debate a little bit in your head before you look over to see R5 running into things as they put some tools away.

“What would I do?” You ask, taking another moment before you turn back to him.

“Keep the Razor Crest in working condition.” 

You chuckle, “That’s gonna be hard considering the state it came in isn't it?”

He says nothing as you look back at R5 and sigh. You agree to go with him, saying you have some things to take care of before you take off. You sent your R5 unit over to a friend and grabbed a few of your belongings before following the Mandalorian onto his ship.

Your assumption of it being hard to keep the Razor Crest in tip top shape was correct. You’ve never been shot at or chased so many times before, especially now in deep space. 

You were currently under the control panel trying to reroute power from one part of the ship to power up the hyperdrive enough to get you to a nearby planet. Above you Din, as you have come to learn, was trying his best to lose the people who were currently shooting at you. 

“Anytime soon would be nice.” He rasps out.

“Well maybe if you flew better I’d be done already!” You shout.

You mess around with a few more wires before shouting “done”. At that Din hits the hyperdrive and yall begin the jump to hyperspace. You move to start getting yourself up when the actual jump happened. Din reaches out and steadys you with his hand on your waist so you don’t fall. You move away from him to plop down in the co-pilot's seat taking in a deep breath. 

“You need to land somewhere. It’s not gonna last very long.” You warn.

He nods as he messes with some buttons setting a course for the nearest habitable planet. 

“You should get some rest while you can.” He says.

You nod your head, agreeing with him for once before leaning back onto the seat. Your head lulls to the side, and you cross your arms over your chest. It takes a minute before you're able to fall into any sort of slumber. 

You wake up to the Razor Crest jolting, and through the trasparasteel you can see that it's light outside. You looked out to see that Din hand landed you both near a cliff, and below into the valley was a town. You hoped that they had something that would help you fix the ship whether it was a whole part, or just some extra tools. 

“Come on, let's see if they have anything helpful.” His voice monotone as ever has he stands up.

You stretch in your seat before getting up yourself. You both make your way down to the cargo area, gabbing your small blaster and some knives that you hide on yourself. You squint at the bright light that floods in from the ramp being lowered. 

It took awhile for the two of you to reach the town, bustling with kids running through the pathways. You can feel the stares of the adults as the both of you make your way down the main path. You find what seems to be a scrap shop and nod in the direction. He silently follows you inside the disorganized shop where a grime-covered Twi’lek was muttering at a broken motor. 

“Can I help you?” He grumbles.

“We need some things to repair our ship.” You explain.

“What do you need?” He looks up at you expectantly.

You start rambling some parts and tools you’ll need to fix up the Razer Crest. Meanwhile the Mandalorian is standing behind you not saying a word. He was entranced by the way you were listing off everything you needed. Even he didn’t know everything you were saying; he found that attractive. The way you held yourself in confidence in front of this rather large Twi’lek man, stone cold face and tone had sent him reeling. 

You turned back towards Mando, “Ok he has some of the things I need. We should be good.”

“Some?” He questions as he tilts his head at you.

“No one in this little town is gonna have everything we need. I’ll just have to improvise.” You say the last part with a sly smile on your lips.

Din suppresses a groan at your cheeky, but optimistic attitude about the situation. You turn back around when you hear the Twi’lek man come back with a large container full of things. You say a quick ‘thank you’ with your dazzling smile and put a generous amount of credits in his hand.

You lift up the large crate with a small grunt and start heading your way towards the exit. Din watches you leave and starts to follow you when you nod your head for him to follow you. 

“We should get some food while we’re here. It’d be a nice change from what we usually have.” You chirp. 

He stays silent as you walk up to a small little stall with fresh produce from the local farms on the planet. You pick out a few of the fruits they have and hand them to Din to put in the little rucksack he has. After you picked out what you wanted he handed the owner some credits and you both started making your way back to the Razor Crest. 

When you arrive you set the crate full of equipment down in the cargo bay and make your way to grab one of the fruits you had bought and sit down. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow to the surrounding area. 

“I’ll fix her up in the morning. Can’t work in the dark.” You say while leaning back, taking a bite out of the fruit you grabbed. The Mandalorian gives a brief nod before walking past you to another part of his ship.

The next morning you had woken up before just before the sun rose and decided to get ready for a full day of work. You stripped down to your tank, knowing you’d get all hot and sweaty from working. You quickly grabbed a small bite to eat, and set out to get all of your equipment out so you can start working as soon as the sun was up.

When Din had woken up and couldn’t find you in your little sleeping spot he began to worry. He knows you can take care of yourself of course, but he has grown to like you. Liked you more than he’d like to admit to himself. That small part of him was worried you left him for something better. Then he heard it. Your voice muttering out curses along with hisses and bangs from outside the ship. 

He walked out down the ramp and rounded the corner to see you working under one of the engines. You had goggles on as you messed with some of the wiring, big bulky gloves protecting your hands as some sparks shot up from them. You were covered in sweat and grime already which made him question, how long have you been awake? 

He couldn’t help but fall into a trance as you worked on the Razor Crest, seemingly in your own little world. He watched your hands work, and watched how the movements correlated with your arms and shoulders. Call him old fashioned but he still isn’t used to seeing so much of your skin. He often thinks about how soft your skin really is, and how you’d react to his touch. What would your hands feel like? He knows they’re rough from years of work and the occasional fight, but he still would kill to feel your hand run over him just once. If it weren't for the helmet anybody would be able to see how he yearned for you. 

He was pulled out of his trance from an eruption and you jerked back from the area you were working on. “Karabast!” 

His mouth twitched up as you began to insult the part you were working on. He began to take a few steps closer to you, the sound gaining your attention. Your head turns towards him, and you quickly push your goggles up to the top of your head. 

“I-I’ll fix that.” You motion awkwardly towards the panel. 

He gives a little chuckle, “How’s it looking?” 

“Well, could be worse.” 

“What can I do?” He asks, tone just monotone as ever. 

“Well you can finnish this part up, it’s pretty simple. I’ll start working at the top of the ship.” You motion to the part you were just working on.

Din starts walking towards you to take over while you explain what he needed to do. Once you were done you walked towards the back of the ship to climb up top. Din couldn’t help but watch your arms work to pull yourself up. His gaze lingered on your body, eventually seeing how the fabric shapes your ass. Once you were up he turned his attention towards the panel in front of him, willing himself to focus on something that's not you. 

After a few hours you hoped on down from the top of the ship, needing a break from the harsh sunlight. When you reach the cargo hold of the ship you grab something to munch on before making your way to the cockpit. You see Din in the pilot's seat messing with some of the controls as you make your way to the co-pilot's seat. 

“Everything looks good. Should be ready to leave.” 

You stand up to look over his shoulder to make sure things were in a good enough condition. Sure this may be Din’s ship but you won’t leave until you think it's ready. As you look you see that there’s a light indicating some damage to one of the engines. No doubt it was that nasty blaster shot you had spotted while up on top.

“Not yet. Gotta fix the right engine.” You point towards the indicator.

“It’s fine, at least until we're somewhere safer.” He doesn’t turn towards you as he speaks, as if he thinks you’re just gonna go with whatever he says.

“We are not going anywhere until I get that engine fixed. Not unless you wanna get captured or stranded?” You ask rhetorically. 

You can’t see it but Din raises his eyebrows at your authoritative tone, finally turning to face you. He’s stunned for a second. You had somehow gotten covered in more grime, and what may be soot from the blaster shots to his ship. There were dark streaks covering your arms and parts of your face. He noticed how your skin glistened with sweat from your neck down to your chest. He was reeling in the way you looked, how you someone who usually looked so soft next to him looked so rugged. 

This wasn’t the first time Din has had some not so professional thoughts of you. He couldn’t help it with the way you carried yourself, or how cute you always seemed around him. He wanted to see how beautiful you would be falling apart for him, and how your usually confident tone of voice would sound crying out for him.

He didn’t realize he zoned out until your voice came out stern and demanding once again. He looks up to see you had come around in front of him, face just inches away from his helmet. Your arms rested on either side of him as you leaned towards him. 

“Hey, you listening?” You ask. 

That was when he had enough of your attitude. He abruptly stood up and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped before your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, feeling his body that hides under the beskar. He walks to where his little cot is and puts you down before grabbing a small piece of fabric. 

“If you don’t want this just say so.” He says as if he is out of breath. 

You grab the small piece of fabric from his hands before moving to tie it around your eyes, a sly smile coming to rest upon your lips, “Bout time you made a move Mando.”