#i got chest pains queuing this up

[whimhaven]

before heading back home to henford-on-bagley, delilah stopped by foxbury to discuss the surprise of her pregnancy with karan. but her eagerness about the wedding and the baby quickly died when she opened the dormitory door to the sight of her unfaithful fiancé.

[keerysfreckles]

lacy, oh lacy — LS2

pairing: logan sargeant x reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when logan needs more comforting than ever, he knows you'll be there.

warnings: sad logan, short fic, not proofread

a/n: james vowles. count your days.

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

when you got the text your heart broke.

'i'm not in williams anymore.'

when you got the call your heart broke even more.

his pained cracking voice sends a wave of hurt through your body. you never moved so fast to get out of your job, just telling your boss you needed to leave right now. you could've sworn you sped the whole way home but you didn't care. you needes to get to logan.

you kept the call going the whole way home, just letting him get anything he needed to off his chest. your heart clenched every time his voice broke or trailed off, or when you heard his muffled sniffling as he tried to hide it the best he could.

you promised him you were almost home, and told him you'd be there in five minutes. however as you were about to get closer to the small grocery store by your shared apartment, you had an idea.

you walked briskly down the aisles, knowing exactly what you needed to get.

you opened the third freezer door and grabbed a carton of chocolate chip ice cream. in the past if logan happened to he upset for any reason, this seemed to always brighten his mood. you only hoped the ice cream would work today.

while walking towards your apartment door and fumbling with your keys, you worry if logan's mood has gotten worse since you ended the call. you're quick with unlocking the door.

"logan?" no response.

you take off your shoes and coat by the front door, then proceed down the hallway to your bedroom. you bring the shopping bag with you, the cold ice cream hitting your leg with each step.

you can't think your heart could break more, until you see logan. he's in bed, staring at something on his phone with red puffy eyes and a matching red nose.

you silently walk over to him, leaving the ice cream at the edge of the bed. you hug him sideways, and he immediately leans into your embrace. at your contact his eyes start to water again. his body shakes as the minutes pass, only making you want to hold him impossibly closer.

your countless kisses placed on top of head don't seem to be calming him down.

this is when you look at his discared phone in his lap. it's the email sent from williams about his release.

"you know looking at the email won't change anything lo?" you question softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair.

you feel him nod, "i just don't know what else to do," his voice cracks once more.

you begin to let go of him, but his hands tighten around you. "don't leave, please."

you kiss his head again, "i'm only going to change, then we can cuddle as much as you want. plus i got you ice cream."

he looks up at you for the first time today. his bloodshot eyes make you yourself want to cry. "chocolate chip?"

"of course," you smile before kissing him gently on the lips.

after you change out of your work clothes as quickly as possible, you grab two spoons so you and logan can enjoy the ice cream.

you begin to smile once you walk back into the bedroom. logan placed his phone down on the nightstand, and had cars queued on the tv across from the bed.

you sat next to him before placing the blanket over the both of you. you turned towards him, letting him lean into you again. youe legs ended up tangling together under the blanket as you got comfortable. the ice cream was in between you, providing both of you with a sense of familiarity and comfort.

"i love you," logan looks at you, before a small smile spreads over his features.

"i love you more, and i'm nothing but proud of you," you lean forward to kiss him, "i'll always be here for you."

[probably-writing-x]

The Stars That Shine

Summary: could you do something w conrad based off of mary’s song oh my my my by taylor swift 🥺

Author’s Note: Im so sorry I struggled so much writing this but I hope you love it and it’s what you were hoping for <3

It was like there was just something between you and Conrad that everyone else could see even when you couldn’t. You’d grown up in the house next to his in Cousins and so, every summer without fail, you spent every waking moment with him. It was like summer started so nothing else mattered. He was two years older than you and for the majority of your life he’d made that abundantly clear - he treated you like a little girl in comparison to him. He saw you in the same way he saw Jere, younger than him and so someone he had to be responsible for.

When you were 8, he threw you into the pool and then fought you when you tried to get back at him for it. You’d slipped on the concrete and cut your knee, and Susannah had told him he was too big to be fighting you. He’d patched you up with a plaster over the cut and bought you an ice cream from the van when it came past.

When you were 10, he punched a boy that jumped the queue in front of you over at the boardwalk. You’d been queuing to use the karts, and a boy had treated you like you were invisible. Conrad grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him, turning the guy around and clocking him in the jaw. He bruised his knuckles and you bought him fries from the stall to make up for it. You remembered it every time you ended up back at that boardwalk.

When you were 12, he got dared to kiss you one night when the group of you were all camping out at the beach. He refused at first and both of you forgot about it. But, later that night, he’d stopped you on the sand and told you that he never backed down from a dare. You ran away before he had the chance. Neither of you mentioned it after that day.

When you were 14, you realised for the first time that you liked him. He was getting ready for a date and you watched him fix his hair in the mirror, the pain settling on your chest that it wasn’t you he’d be with. He’d told you to wish him luck and you couldn’t find a word to respond with. A few hours later, Conrad had returned and told you dating wasn’t for him, he’d shook hands with you that he’d never go on a first date again. You’d laughed and taken the bet, hoping to God for just a moment that the next one would be with you.

When you turned 16, it was like Conrad saw you completely differently. You turned up in Cousins that summer and he saw you as a whole new person. He’d looked at you on the driveway like he was looking at a stranger, until his hand stretched out and he ruffled your hair on your head. You blushed under his touch and prayed he didn’t notice.

But there was just something so different about that summer. You felt Conrad’s eyes on you whenever he had the chance, the way he listened in to what you said just a little more intensely, the way he defended you when the boys started being dicks. The little things that just didn’t feel the same as they normally did.

It was that same summer that Conrad first took you out in his truck. His father had bought it for him for Christmas and got Jere one too - now that both of them could drive. Conrad had always complained that he’d have to wait for Jeremiah but it didn’t seem to matter now that he had his car. It started with just little trips to the store, spending a little longer with each other browsing through the aisles before he took the long way home. And then one night, when you couldn’t sleep, it felt like everything changed.

———

You made your way slowly downstairs, breezing past your parents’ room where they both slept soundly. With no real reason why, you just couldn’t sleep tonight. And there was only so long you could lay in bed waiting for sleep to take you.

You slip on a hoodie over your bralette and shorts and grab a pair of flip flops, heading out of the back door and into the yard. It was so much more peaceful at night. You’d sleep out here if you could.

It was rare you spent much time at home in this place, however. All of your best memories were made in the house next door - Susannah was the hostess and your parents always accepted that. You walk down the length of the garden alongside the hedged fence joins the two yards, your eyes flicking into their side.

That’s when you see him. Illuminated by the lights in the water, seemingly giving him an eerie glow, his legs drifting back and forth under the surface from where he sat at the edge of the pool.

“Con?” You hiss into the silent air and he instantly bolts his head up to look at where the noise has come from.

He smiles when he sees you, standing up from the poolside and wiping his hands on his shorts, “Are you stalking me (Y/l/n)?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Fisher,” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He smirks and makes his way over to you until you’re both stood in front of each other, separated by the short hedge between you.

“Why are you awake?”

Conrad shrugs, “I never sleep early.”

You nod, “I can’t sleep.”

You feel the way his eyes watch you, the way they seem to melt into your skin. The way you seem to heat up just a little under his gaze.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

“Now? Con it’s like 1am,” You frown, glancing back up to him.

He shrugs, “Do you have anything better to do?”

And so, he disappears back into his house and you take the alleyway at the side of yours, waiting for him out the front against the passenger door of his car.

Only moments later, he steps outside, swinging his keys around one finger as he makes his way over to you. You both clamber in and he drives off without another word.

You look out of the passenger window at the passing cars and don’t notice the way he watches you. The way his eyes are on you as if they can’t be torn away. Conrad wasn’t exactly sure when things had changed - or if they’d ever changed at all. He just knew that he saw you now and saw someone he couldn’t be without. Like someone had made him see you in a completely different light. Had he always felt like this and only now realised?

“Have you seen the-“ You turn your head back around and notice his eyes solely on you, feeling a blush burn at your cheeks, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just-“ He stops himself.

“Focus on the road Fisher,” You roll your eyes, drawing your knees up to your chest on the chair.

“That’s my sweatshirt,” He points out, turning another corner as the two of you drive down another country lane.

Eventually, he parks the car up on the hills overlooking the town, both of you still sat in the front seats staring out over the dark view.

“So why couldn’t you sleep?” Conrad asks you, leaning his head back against the headrest.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Just stuff on my mind I guess.”

He nods, “Go on.”

“Do you-“ You stop yourself, shifting in your seat so that you’re sat sideways, facing him directly, “Do you feel like… I don’t know, like this summer has been different than before?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows the lump in his throat, “In what way?”

“Come on Con,” You scoff, “I feel like I stranger showing up here again, I know you’re all looking at me like I’m a new person.”

He jumps the gun quickly to correct you, “It’s not like that, I know you’re still you.”

You roll your eyes, “Then why are you being so different with me?”

“I just-“ He stops himself, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face, as if he wants to frame your features in the perfect light, “It just feels like this summer I actually woke up. Saw what was right in front of me.”

“And what’s that?” You stop yourself from smiling, feeling so nervous with the way he cupped your cheek.

His thumb brushes along your jaw, until it is at the base of your chin, “You.”

Slowly, cautiously, like he’s giving you both the time to overthink, he draws you into him and you pull to him like a magnet. His breath fans over your lips before you close the space between you, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. You hadn’t kissed anyone before, you didn’t have a clue on what to do. But his hand keeps you pulled into him and his fingers are in your hair and his lips move against yours like they were meant to be there. He holds you like he’s been waiting to for a short forever.

Conrad’s hands move lower, pressing against your back to pull you into him, both of you angled awkwardly over the console of the car. He fumbles in his seat to draw you close to him despite the block between you and both of you laugh against each other.

“Terrible place for a first kiss,” He mumbles against you, his forehead pressing against yours.

You smile and pull away from him, “I think we’re just impatient.”

“Oh I think we’ve both waited long enough to do that,” He scoffs, “C’mere.”

One hand drops to draw his chair as far away from the wheel as it will go before they’re both back onto you, gripping and grasping at your hoodie to pull you over to him. You giggle as you clamber over onto his lap.

He grips your waist as you settle down onto his thighs, your noses bumping together in the small space.

“Hi,” You grin, holding both of his shoulders as if convincing yourself he was real.

His hands slip beneath the waistband of your hoodie, for no other reason than to convince himself that you were real too, that he could feel you there.

“Hi.”

———

You and Conrad had stayed together for the following year without any hiccups. He drove to your home, you drove to Boston, you met in the middle in Cousins. You spent Thanksgiving with his family, and he came to yours after Christmas. You called each other nearly every night and the long distance never seemed to feel like too far. All up until when the two of you were back in Cousins. Your parents hadn’t come this summer but you had, and you stayed at Susannah’s place. It was the most time you and Conrad had ever spent together, waking up together, going to sleep together, it was all you’d been wanting since he’d first kissed you in that car.

But all pieces of heaven come with tiny bits of hell. And it didn’t take too long for the perfect bubble to burst.

You’d been at the beach at a bonfire party, and you’d been accepting any drink that someone offered you. It was starting to hit you a little bit, the sort of buzz that warmed your veins and heightened your confidence.

“Where’s Con?” You frown at Jeremiah, squinting around the mass of bodies to try and spot your boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” Jere shrugs, “I think I saw him with Steven by the fire.”

You nod and trail your steps in that direction, stumbling a little on the uneven sand.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar pair of hands grab your waist, “Come and dance with me.”

You push them away and turn your head back to see a boy you don’t recognise, rolling your eyes.

“Oh come on, don’t be boring,” He encourages, “Dance with me.”

His hands snake around your waist again and you push them off.

“Get off me!” You exclaim, turning around to face him.

“Oh is that how you’re playing it?” The boy smirks, “What have you got a boyfriend or something?”

“I-“

“Hey, do you want to back the fuck off?” Conrad’s voice bellows from beside you, coming up towards the boy and shoving him square in the chest.

He stumbles backwards on the sand but catches himself before he falls.

“Who the fuck are you?” The boy scoffs, looking up to meet Conrad’s eyes before looking back at you, at the way Conrad shields you with his body, “You’re her boyfriend?”

“How about you leave her alone?” Conrad waves the boy off, watching as he walks off from the both of you before he turns around to face you.

“God he wouldn’t get off me he-“

“We’re going home.”

Conrad’s voice is cold, emotionless - a way you’d never heard him speak towards you.

“Wh-“

“We’re leaving,” He snaps once again, “I’m driving.”

“Con wh-“

He holds your arm in his grasp and tries to lead you away from the party, getting you as far as being just slightly away from the big crowd.

“Conrad get off me, you’re hurting me!” You exclaim, pulling your wrist from his grip, “What’s wrong with you?”

“(Y/n) you’re drunk and we’re going home,” He says harshly, looking at you with eyes that didn’t feel like his own, “Now get in the car.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You wrap your arms over your chest, “Why are you being like this?”

“Because you’ve got guys fucking trying it on with you, thinking they’ve got a chance with you, and I’m stood right there (Y/n)!”

“Nothing happened!” You half-laugh, “He grabbed me and I told him to stop. What the fuck is wrong with that?”

“You think they don’t think they’ve got a chance with you?” Conrad raises his eyebrows, “Are you fucking blind?”

“No I’m not blind Conrad but I’m not going to fucking cheat on you with the first guy that shows me attention. Who the hell do you think I am?”

His shoulders drop a little like he’s realised the effect, but Conrad being Conrad will only let the mask slip for so long before he’s back to the coldhearted demeanour he seemed to have adopted for the night.

“Okay, we’re taking both of you home,” Steven walks over to interject, “I’ve not been drinking, I’m driving.”

You look at Conrad for a moment longer like you’re hoping he’s going to change his mind and reach out for you and apologise but he doesn’t make any move to do so.

He walks off ahead with Steven and you walk behind with Belly and Jeremiah.

Everyone is deathly silent on the drive home until you reach the house and they mumble a quick ‘good night’ before going into separate bedrooms. Conrad still hasn’t looked you in the eyes and, as you sober up more and more, you’re convincing yourself he never will.

“Con can we please-“

You pause as you watch him rummaging through the closet to pull out a pillow and blanket.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping downstairs,” He returns bitterly, turning around towards the door.

“You can’t be serious,” You scoff, “That’s it? You’re not even going to talk to me about it?”

“I’ve said what I wanted to say,” Conrad shrugs, “We’re not going to agree so now what?”

“We fight it out Conrad. We talk about it like fucking adults,” You shake your head, “We don’t just give up and act like each other’s worst enemy.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable? I’m not the one with a guys arms around my fucking waist!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” You yell, unbothered about every other pair of listening ears in the house.

Conrad doesn’t reply once more, stepping past you to walk into the corridor.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself Conrad,” You state coldly and he glances back only momentarily to watch as you slam the bedroom door, feeling it shake the room around you before you fall to the floor in tears.

The only other sound comes from his feet creaking the stairs on their way down.

—

The following morning, you’re up before anyone else in the house. You could barely sleep in the night, feeling oddly cramped in the spacious bed, feeling cold in the too-hot room.

Eventually, you give up on trying to sleep any more and instead make your way downstairs.

The couch is empty, apart from a small pile with the pillow and blanket stacked on top of each other. You frown a little at the sight, desperate for the calm of seeing Conrad asleep and peaceful. Your eyes draw outside to the garden where you can just about make out the shape of a body across one of the sun loungers, tucked away in the shade at the side of the pool.

He must be freezing.

You grab the blanket from the couch and tuck it under your arm, stepping outside as quietly as you can to reach Conrad.

His arms are wrapped over his chest and his heads tilted to the side, stretching out his prominent jawline. His breaths are calm and even and you’re conscious as ever to not wake him as you stretch out the blanket to lay over him.

You’re just about to turn away when you see his eyes start to flutter open just a little.

“(Y/n)?” Conrad’s voice croaks as you turn back towards the house.

You grimace a little and look down at the floor, “I- I thought you might be cold.”

Certain more than ever that this wasn’t the time to start up another argument, you start to make your way back inside with hurried steps.

“(Y/n) wait!” Conrad calls after you, “Will you stay?”

You pause in your steps and turn around to face him, “I-“

But it’s easier to not say a word, as if you don’t want to ruin the moment. You walk over to him slowly and he shifts over on the lounger so that there’s one thin half of it for you to lay on. He stretches out an arm and you lay down, resting your head on his chest whilst his other arm drapes the blanket over you. Both of you are silent at first, as if wanting to breathe in every ounce of contact you’d been missing.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Conrad says, trailing one hand up and down your back, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

You nod, “I’m sorry too. I should’ve just listened to you and I know you we-“

“Baby,” He speaks so softly you’re sure your heart swells at the feeling of him coming back to you.

You lean up slightly, just enough to rest on your elbow and turn your head to face him.

“I was in the wrong,” He assures you, “I’d been drinking and I saw you with that guy and I just flipped and I shouldn’t have.”

You nod, resting a hand on his chest, “It was kind of hot when you shoved him though.”

Conrad chuckles, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you between his legs, letting you lay over his torso, “You think?”

You shrug, “Just yell at the guy more and not me next time.”

He smiles softly, “Noted.”

———

Arguments came rarely and calmly between the two of you after that day. When you did disagree, it was softer and sadder - less fuelled and less aggressive. Conrad never raised his voice at you, and you never raised your voice at him. You told him when you were upset and he told you when he was irritated. It worked.

You’d been together for five years before things changed again. You were a year out from graduating college and Conrad was practically waiting for the day when you would. He’d already graduated so he came to visit you on the weekends when he could, he worked a job in a research lab in Boston and he’d call you when he finished to tell you about what he’d done that day. The plan for after you graduated was to get the money to buy your parents’ Cousins house from them. The two of you, in Cousins, in the place you’d fell in love. It would be a dream.

You were back in Cousins for the summer after your third year of college and you were, of course, staying with his family and the Conklins. Everything had been completely normal until this one day where it felt like the whole house’s mood had shifted.

“Morning babe,” You yawn as you walk downstairs, into the kitchen where Conrad and Jere are speaking in hushed tones.

They stop abruptly when you walk in.

“Hey!” Jeremiah smiles a little too widely, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna head out.”

You frown as he hurries past you and turn back to Conrad.

“What was that about?”

He shrugs and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Jere’s Jere.”

You rest your head against his chest and breathe in the scent of cologne that clings to his clothes.

“Do you fancy waffles?” He suggests, his hands moving up to your shoulders to massage the skin over the material of your baggy t-shirt.

You pull away from him and narrow your eyes, “Waffles?”

“Don’t look at me like that, Im being romantic,” He rolls his eyes at you, walking away to get the ingredients from the cupboard.

“Oh I’m not complaining,” You grin, pushing yourself to sit on the countertop, “Did I forget an anniversary or something?”

“Can’t a guy do something nice for his girlfriend without an ulterior motive?” He questions you, walking over to open the cupboard beside your legs, pulling out the waffle iron.

You shrug, “We’ll see.”

As he stands back up, he leans in quickly to kiss you, “I’ve got some errands to run later but I’ll be back in time for dinner, Belly suggested we all go out.”

“Our for dinner? We never go out for dinner,” You frown, “Why would we-“

“Stop being so suspicious,” Conrad scoffs, “We’ll go somewhere nice.”

“You’re weird today,” You joke and he rolls his eyes at you once again.

—

Later that day, Conrad’s still out and you get a text from him telling you he’ll meet you at dinner rather than coming home first. You’ve been lounging around the house since he left, soaking in the sun in the garden before you came in to shower.

Belly knocks on your bedroom door as you’re laying across the bed watching The Office.

“Hey!” She grins, “Do you know what you’re wearing to dinner?”

You frown as she drops down onto your mattress, “No I’ll probably just put a jumper on or something.”

“I think-“ She looks around your room, “I think we should dress up.”

“Dress up? You’ll never get the boys to agree to that,” You laugh, “Where are we even going?”

She shrugs, “You’ll find out.”

You lean up onto your elbows and narrow your eyes at her, “Why’s everyone being so suspicious today? What aren’t you telling me?”

She laughs and her mouth moves like she can’t find the words, “I’m not saying anything.”

“Belly!” You exclaim as she hurries off from your bed.

“Just… wear something nice,” She sticks her head around the frame of your door, “Maybe that white dress that Conrad loves.”

You glance over to the closet and glaze over your appearance in the mirror. Maybe you should make an effort, it was rare you were ever going anywhere fancy enough to do anything like that. But they all seemed set on making this night a good one - who were you to question that?

Within the hour, you’ve done some light makeup, brushed through your hair and curled the bits around your face, and pulled on the white dress that Conrad loved so much.

When you step out to walk down the stairs, Belly, Steven, Taylor and Jere are all stood looking up at you.

“What the fuck is going on?” You laugh, “I feel like I’m going to prom.”

“Wh-“ Steven coughs, glancing at the others, “We’re just, um, you know, we don’t want to be late.”

You grab your purse quickly and hurry down the stairs, “Calm down, Im ready now.”

They follow you outside and you all walk over to Jere’s car where you go to open the back door.

“Um,” Belly stops you, “You can sit in the front.”

You look at her with a puzzled expression before climbing into the front with Jeremiah, watching as the other three pile into the back.

“Seriously guys what the fuck is going on?” You question as Jere pulls off from the driveway and starts down the road.

“What are you talking about?” Taylor shrugs, “We’re just hungry.”

“Everyone’s like treading on eggshells with me today, it’s weird,” You comment, “Con seemed like weirdly nervous before he left earlier too, I’ve never seen him run out of the door so quickly and I-“

You pause as the sights around you seem to change, Jeremiah taking a turn down a country lane.

“Jere this isn’t the way to the restaurant we need to go…”

You stop yourself once more as his face breaks into a grin that it’s impossible to hide.

“Seriously what aren’t you telling me?” You turn around to glance at the three of them in the back, all of their heads close together looking out of the windscreen.

Belly nods her head in that direction and you turn back to the front, your lips parting and every single sensation in your body seeming to ignite and disappear all in one moment.

There, in the exact spot where he’d first kissed you, is Conrad.

There’s a scattering of rose petals laid out across the grass and candles lining the edge of the cliff that dips down towards the town.

“Oh my god,” You exhale, glancing at the others in the car with tears already in your eyes.

“Go on, I think he’s waiting for you,” Jeremiah nods, squeezing your arm.

The other three look at you with widened eyes and bright smiles on their faces as you open the passenger door and step out.

“I was worried Jere would take you the wrong way,” Conrad calls over to you as you walk over towards him.

“Conrad this is-“ You stop yourself, glancing around at the sight that you’re sure is something out of a dream, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You look beautiful,” Conrad reaches out his hands for you to hold, “I- God, I’d planned this whole thing and now it’s like I don’t know where to start.”

You step just a foot in front of him and squeeze his hands, looking up at him with watering eyes.

“(Y/n) I love you,” Conrad smiles back at you, “And there are a thousand words I could say now to tell you that, but nothing will be more important than telling you that I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. And so…”

“Oh my god,” You release again, watching as he lowers down onto his knee, reaching back into his pocket to pull out a small velvet box.

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n) will you marry me?”

“Oh my god,” You repeat once again as if they’re the only words going through your brain, your eyes spilling with tears.

Conrad looks up at you with overwhelming emotion in his eyes, “Well?”

“Yes!” You laugh, grasping either side of his face in your hands as he stands up onto his feet, “Of course! Yes!”

He looks down to push the silver ring onto your finger before wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting you up into his grasp before he lowers you down to the ground. His eyes shift into that same adoration they’d held for you when you first came here that night, and he leans in to kiss you with the same excitement as that first time too.

At the sight, a chorus of cheers extend from the car and you both glance over to see all four of them staring out the window with wide grins over their faces.

You laugh through the tears in your eyes and Conrad tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible.

In that moment, in that perfect moment, you think of your six year old self, when you’d been a blushing mess meeting Conrad for the first time. Your twelve year old self so terrified at the thought of kissing him. The sixteen year old self that first kissed him in that car. And every year since of loving him.

You see yourselves getting married, your families laughing and telling you they knew it would be this way all along. The two of you growing old together, watching your kids grow up too. And, eventually, being sat in the same spot on this same cliff overlooking this same town, with the boy who’d held your heart for your entire life.

The boy who’d always be your Connie.

[sapphosewrites]

Trektober 2024 Day #3: Meet the Parents

Note: we're queued in advance today because I'm supposed to be offline for Rosh Hashanah. If you see me online today aside from this post, please remind me to get off.

Being kidnapped by the Dominion and held on a remote asteroid by Jem'Hadar who didn't understand or care about the medical needs of their prisoners was already the worst-case scenario. There shouldn't have been any room to sink lower.

"You're hurting my feelings, Doctor. I think you've been avoiding me," Tain said, and Julian stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said, as neutrally as he could manage.

Tain coughed. There was an irritable little voice inside Julian's head that insisted he timed those coughs on purpose when he felt he wasn't receiving enough attention, but that was an unkind and inappropriate thing for a doctor to think, so Julian ignored it and finally turned his head to look at his patient.

"I'd hate to have to die to be worthy of your attention." Tain knew, of course, that this was exactly the case, and that Julian hated it about himself, and so he took every opportunity to bring it up.

"Is the chest pain any worse?" Julian asked, instead of responding. Tain shrugged airily.

"It comes and goes. A true Cardassian can't be brought down by a little pain. Garak was always soft, of course. He knew that about himself. That was why he chose to get the implant."

Every morning, Julian told himself today would be the day he didn't rise to Tain's bait. It never worked.

"Feeling pain isn't a sign of weakness."

"Oh, he knew how to twist it to his advantage. It got him your sympathy, didn't it? Garak's very good at manipulating people, Doctor. You shouldn't feel ashamed he got to you."

This was Tain's special talent, Julian supposed. However wretched the circumstances, he could always make them worse.

[ditzyredrobin]

(Don’t) Leave me Alone (part II)

Part two is ready to rock and roll! I hope to have part three with the full reunion up tonight or tomorrow. 💜

-

Tim drops unceremoniously back into their overstuffed couch, sighing on impact, and dropping his head into his open palms.

Their movie is still queued up and the broken glass on the floor but he couldn’t Will himself to move any farther.

There had been a heavy debate regarding said couch, ultimately being won out by himself—he could be very persuasive, according to his vigilante boyfriends, at least.

The heavy smell of their favorite Chinese (Jason’s broccoli beef and Dick’s kung pao chicken), made his stomach twist and churn.

Is this my fault?

Maybe the bigger question was would they survive a fight of this magnitude, or would he be left alone in the rubble, trying to claw himself.

Should he leave now and save himself from the inevitable it’s-not-you-it’s-me talk? Because that’s how these sorts of things always ended, wasn’t it?

He just thought—he just hoped—that things would end differently this time. But hope is a nasty business, she always had a way of chewing him up inside and spitting him out, his soul a little more damaged than before.

Tim scrubs his scalp. It’s okay—he would be okay, he always was. He would take his weaknesses and turn them back into strengths. He was excellent at change but this… he didn’t want this change.

His eyes got hot and it was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave he loved this place he.

He loved their bed and waking up next to them every morning, he loved Jason’s books scatter around them house, tucked in between the couch cushions, tiny writing in the margin.

Dick’s attempts at cooking pancakes in the morning and nearly burning down the kitchen, and Jason having to jump in and take over before he did actually have a fire, while Tim sat the bar laughing.

He loves Dick’s dimples when he grinned and Jason’s frown lines when he’s had enough of their bullshit.

It was their nest and the first place he’s ever felt at home. It was always chaotic and a little unhinged, but he loved the it.

Tim froze, his scalp sore and his hands twisted in his too-long hair.

Oh, god.

He was going to lose them and he… he couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t think the word.

Tears spill over and his hands tremble, tightening in his hair. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, trying to stay calm, but it catches in his chest.

How could he be so stupid? Of course they don’t love him. If they did, would they really have left him alone?

He sits there for a few, painful minutes, silently berating himself for the very idea that they wouldn’t leave him, missing the window catch as it opened and boots on the hardwood floor.

“Aw, Sweets,” Jay says softly, startling him.

Tim jerks up in his seat, eyes wild until he realizes it’s Jason. He peels back the domino and white outs and drops it on the table along with his holsters and pistols. He sees the Chinese and grimaces.

Tim doesn’t say anything as Jason slowly drops down on the floor in front of him, hands out in the universal “I come in peace” sort of way.

They stare at each other for a long moment and he doesn’t feel like he can breath. Jason is the first to taking his face between his large, scarred hands.

They were calloused and rough against his cheeks but his touch was impossibly delicate, like Tim were made of fine china, and one wrong move would cause him to chip or break. “I’m sorry for leavin’ you alone like that. I didn’t think—I, just, I didn’t think. ‘s not fair ‘a me or Dickie.”

Maybe he was right to be so tender with him, because with those words, he felt a little crack form. A tiny, insignificant thing, really. It shouldn’t have been anything more than a chip. But it hurt. So. Much.

Tim bites his lip and shakes his head. His chest aches, like the crack were a canyon. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” It’s a mantra.

I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re okay. If he just sticks to it, everything will be okay. He just has to play the part.

I’m okay, it’s okay, we’re okay, I’ll get over it.

Jay’s frown deepens but he doesn’t let go. “It’s not. You need to understand this, what happened, is not okay and not your fault. This was ‘tween Dick and me. It was not your responsibility to handle and we shouldn’t’ve gotten you involved. I was an ass and you know it.”

“You and Dick are tired so it’s okay. Accidents happen.”

“But this wasn’t an accident. Even then, this-“ he says gesturing around them. “was not okay. I need you to understand, this wasn’t an accident. I lashed out at you to get back at Dick for a mistake I made. Not you, me. Y’hear me?”

“You were doing the best you could,” Tim replies simply. Because he had to have been, it was the only explanation. “You were tired, hungry, and in pain. I’m not angry, stuff happens.”

Because it does. Accidents happen. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He should have been paying more attention, tried to mediate the situation and talk them down before things went sideways.

They wouldn’t purposefully do this to him otherwise.

It hurt when the left him but he wasn’t going to tell either of them that. He knows they were just doing what they had to, to get by. Bad missions happened and he was just caught on the cross fire.

Accidents happen.

“So, let’s reframe this. If you were in the way of a murderer and I knew I could bring him down by shootin’ both of you, is that an accident? If I knew you were going to get hurt or die just so’s I could take ‘em down, would you be upset?”

It’s an extreme but okay. Tim doesn’t need to think about it to know the answer.

“No,” he says. “If it was between them getting away and hurting more people, or accidentally hurting me, I wouldn’t be upset. It was necessary.”

It was. If he could stop more people from getting hurt just by getting a banged up himself, it was okay. He’d dealt with way worse than a gun shot would.

Wounds heal but people don’t come back from the dead (usually, save for Jason, the self proclaimed resident zombie).

The look Jason gives him, though, had him second guessing his answer. “That’s so fucked up. Wait ‘til Dickie gets a load of this.”

Tim frowns, “Why? It’s an accident. Necessary evil, right?”

“Doll, I don’t know how to break it to you, but that’s not an accident. You should be mad.”

“Why?” He presses, confused. “I don’t…it happens. It’s my job to protect the city even if that means I get hurt.”

“At the cost of your life?”

Again, another simple answer.

“Yes, of course it is.”

Because it was. He had the skills, and the practice, and the conditioning. He made it his job the day he adorned the mantle.

Jason searches his eyes for… for something and when he doesn’t find it, he sighs, and presses a long, tender kiss to his forehead. “We’re gonna fix this, I promise. Maybe Dickie can lay it out better than me.”

“Lay what out?”

[therealslimshakespeare]

Grim Reader here ☠️ I’m wondering about Bucky and his feelings about that baby….and how it plays into his adjusting after the camps and post-war. I assume it’s going to be a painful memory for him and when he finally finds someone, he’s worried about miscarriages….like if someone as noble and good as Ida Brady can lose a baby, then someone with his checkered past and actions doesn’t deserve a child either? Idk, it just makes me think of how self-destructive he’d continue to be in his relationships post war because of the things he’s seen and had to do. And he already feels wildly out of place bc of how alone he is, but add to the fact that he thought of himself as the father and that’s brutal.

Hello my dear, I’ve missed you, *pets head*

I’ve got a rather massive one shot queued up on this very aspect, it’s not the full of it, no, but it’s a massive part of his arc in this story and the bereft feeling that peacetime brought with it. While I have a vague intention for his marriage and family to closely resemble his real one in this AU, it will be postponed, rash as he may be once he marries anyway, it’s simply not at all on the cards in 1945 for this AU, his emotional fidelity is split about three ways in this one, and there was a whole life he has planned and dedicated to himself that didn’t happen, twice over. It is going to be brutal but it’s also one of my fave parts as it explores what a heart this man has, beyond a romantic one.

Here, have a snippet, I haven’t got a title for it yet but it takes place after Jack Brady’s wedding in 1945:

There is a stubborn silence in which she can hear Bucky’s labored breaths practically repeating that he is not, in fact, weeping into her pillow mid morning on a Saturday in Victor, New York. She pats his arm -suit yourself- and pulls away to begin her day. She lights a cigarette, not having fully quit the filthy habit since camp, and grabs a pair of slacks and a shirt from the closet, needing a shower.

“You kept your baby doll.” his voice comes muffled and stuffy from the bed, she glances over and sees he has barely moved, only turned on his side to stare at the threadbare doll propped on her bookcase.

“That’s Minnie.” Ida introduces them with a grin, “Don’t sound so shocked Major, I’d have thought you’ve been in enough boudoirs to know that plenty of women keep their dolls.”

Bucky keeps staring at Minnie morosely, not laughing at her tease. “Did you keep it for your daughter?” he asks.

Sometimes John Egan reminds Ida of a callously curious child, his sympathy sometimes as wounding as his barbs. She refuses to read into it, he is hungover and he is confused by her childish relic; she keeps pace in her routine and replies with honesty, “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Well I do.” he mutters instantly, bitterly, accusingly.

“Beg pardon?” she cautions him.

“I think about your baby all the damn time.” he turns around in the sheets then, sits himself up in her bed, eyes raw and dangerous.

The frog from Egan’s throat now takes up residence in Ida’s, she thinks she might choke on her own breath. “Why-“ panicked, her chest begins to shutter, ears ringing, hands cold. Why would he say that? “Bucky!” she'd have taken a stab in the heart over this, why would he- “Why would you say that?” she begs hoarsely, forced to sit beside him on the bed as her legs are no longer steady.

“You really don’t?” he begs in turn, looking as wretched as she feels.

“I-I-“ Ida digs her fingernails into her thigh, willing the cacophony in her head to cease, to get a grip back on the lid of that tiny coffin, “I’m not doing this. Not this morning, not when I’ve got breakfast to make for a household of people and -my brother just got married, Egan! Is this really the time to bring it up? They’re going to make jokes about you being in here! God’s sake -can’t you possess a modicum of sensitivity.”

It’s not a question. It’s an insult and he takes it on the chin. He knows that his own question -asking if she even recalls her dead child- was one of his own. That doesn’t prevent one last building tear to slip the dam and join the mess on his cheeks, because his heart is nothing if not on the opposing team.

[witchwyfe]

reassuring them when they’re anxious and any character you want! ily

prompt - "reassuring them when they're anxious"

pairing - bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x female reader

cw - mentions/descriptions of anxiety

a/n - ily nonnie! thank you for requesting!! i chose bradley for this, i hope you enjoy!

Bradley knows.

He knows before you even start to make comments about work being a pain or being more tired than usual.

He’s so attuned to your habits and mannerisms he can tell when you’re tired and close to burn out.

He’s thankful for the weekend and the early finish on this Friday, so that he gets home before you. While you and he usually trade off chores around the house, he takes care of all your tasks so that you can come home and relax.

And when you do arrive home, much later than usual, he’s on the couch, perked up when he realizes you’re back.

“It’s Friday, right?” You wonder from the front door, slipping out of our heels and tossing your purse aside.

“Yeah, baby, it’s Friday.” He says, brows furrowing.

You wobble into the living room, stopping to rub at each foot.

“You tired honey?” He wonders gently. “You had a long day.”

You nod, feeling anxiety bubble in your chest. Your throat feels tight. Although its Friday, all you can think about is all the work you have waiting for you when you get back to your desk on Monday.

He pulls you into his chest where you rest your cheek, attempting to ground yourself with the soft feeling of his shirt and the familiar scent of his cologne.

“How was your day?” You murmur into his chest. He feels your words reverberate into his skin, and he sweeps his hand down the back of your head.

“It was fine baby.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not worried about it right now, would rather focus on you.”

You pull away with a frown. “I’m fine Bradley.”

He nods, although he doesn’t agree. “Laid out my t-shirt and your sweats on the bed. They’re nice and clean if you wanna go change into them, sweet girl.”

You lower lip trembles but you press your teeth into it to stop it. “Thank you.” You croak.

You’re fully crying when you come out, tears spilling onto his faded Navy shirt.

“What happened sweetheart?” He rushes to you, hands cupping your cheeks.

“Nothing, I just,” You suck in a shaky breath. “I’m so anxious about the project at work and I come home and you’re just being so sweet to me. Feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Hey,” he says seriously, taking your chin gently between his index finger and thumb. “You always deserve to be treated well, honey, and if I’m not always being sweet to you, you can slap me upside the head.”

His attempt of humor elicits a giggle from you, and he smiles. He means what he said though.

“I ordered us dinner from your favorite place.” He starts. “I got your show queued up, so all you need to do is sit down and relax. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod, climbing into his lap after he sits on the couch. You press your ear to his chest, the steady beating of his heart calming you even further. When Bradley notices you trying to even your breaths, he mutes the television, and uses one of his hands to gently press to your ear.

“Breathe with me, honey.” He instructs, taking slow and exaggerated breaths. After a few quiet moments, your breathing has evened out and you look up at him with a small smile.

“Thank you, Bradley.” You look into his warm eyes. “I love you, a lot.” You whisper, words dripping in sincerity.

“I love you too sweetheart.”

You nuzzle back into his chest, exhaustion suddenly overtaking you.

“My smart girl, I’m so proud of you.” You hear him say before you comfortably doze off.

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10k x reader, Addy Carver × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 5.02

Doc follows behind George for a few miles as she leads you to Camp Altura. The camp was built around a college campus, which had minimal damage. As you stepped in closer, you were able to see different stalls selling blankets, hot food, hand-made soaps, and fresh fruit and vegetables.

“This place is pretty impressive.”

“Hey, guys!” George calls over from a fenced-off area. “You gotta go to quarantine first!”

She points you in the direction of a tent to revive a medical test that would determine if you were alive or dead. Then you could move onto the second stage and fill out forms to register as a citizen. The third part was being assigned a temporary job until they found a permanent one suited best to the information you’d given them.

Doc and Sarge passed with flying colors, but the doctor checking 10K seemed concerned. “I'm having a hard time finding a pulse,” she says, feeling his wrist. “Any near-death experiences? Going into the white light? Loss of appetite?”

“Sometimes everything’s in slow motion.”

The doctor gets 10k to remove his top half of clothing to scan his body with a UV light. You swallow hard, glancing over to the other side of the tent. You see Doc and Sarge watching with the same expression on their faces, no doubt fearing the same thing as you. What if 10K was still technically dead? The doctor pushes him forward to inspect his back and notices the mark on the back of his neck. “What is that? It looks like a healed-over bite.”

“Oh, that… that was me. I sometimes get a little carried away in the bedroom.”

10k looks mortified at first but then clicks onto your lie. Smiling, he looks up at her and shrugs. “I picked a biter.”

Unconvinced, the doctor begins to feel his neck and then his chest. She roughly pushes her thumb over where his heart should be, causing 10k to wince out in pain. “Any heart problems you’re aware of?”

“Not till you did that,” he says, trying to pull away from her, but the doctor only pushed her thumb in deeper.

After a tense few moments pass, the doctor finally smiles and says, “There we go; we got a pulse.”

When it’s your turn to sit in the chair, you hand the doctor the paper with your name on it. It felt so strange seeing your name in black and white on the medical form. 𝐘/𝐍 ‘𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚’ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐤. You were unsure whether to even include your first name since nobody calls it anymore, but you chose to in case Addy ever came looking for you.

She looks between you and 10k, who was putting his top back on. “Another Beck, siblings?”

“Married.”

“But not siblings?”

Sarge scrunches up her nose and says, “that’s disgusting.”

You nod in agreement with Sarge while opening up your mouth for the doctor to inspect your teeth.

“Anything can happen in the new world,” she deadpans.

“Ew.”

“Any zombie bites? Mortal wounds? Organ failure?”

You shake your head.

The doctor feels around the inside of your mouth, giving you a disapproving look. Considering how hard it was to keep hygiene standards up while running from the undead and trying to save the world, your teeth were in pretty good condition. The doctor narrows her eyes at you, then turns to tell Doc and Sarge they should start queuing to register because the lines were long. She asks you question after question without giving you a chance to answer. Frowning, she starts to feel around your stomach before moving her hands further up your body.

You swat the doctor's hands away when she feels your breasts. “Eh, excuse me!”

“Hmm,” she starts to scribble down on the piece of paper, shaking her head. “I’ll organize a scan for you. It will probably be later today so they can do a safety evaluation to figure out the best place for you to work.”

10k steps forward, his eyes wide with worry. “Why does she need a scan? Is something wrong?”

“No, just to see how far along the baby is.”

"I’m pre—” Before you can complete the question, you hear a thud. You look over your shoulder to see 10k has passed out. “I’m not…I cannot be.”

She hands you a small yellow tube to pee in and says, “Let’s find out then.”

Oh shit.

—

“Okay, so now that you’ve registered for citizenship and are certified alive, you’ll need to wait outside in the line on the left for housing and a work permit,” the doctor explains. She smiles at you. “Well, not you, mommy; you’ll be off work for at least a couple of days.”

This wasn’t happening; there had to be some kind of mistake. You couldn’t be pregnant. You glance at 10k, who was toying with the bandana on his head; he hadn’t said anything since two pink lines appeared on the stick the doctor dipped into your urine sample.

“I know this is a shock, but I do have more people waiting to be processed.”

You stand first. “Uh, thank you.”

Stepping out of the medical tent into the camp, you first spot Doc and Sarge, who are waiting for you both. “Fuck, we can’t tell them.”

10k nods in agreement, “we cannot tell them or anyone.”

You go over to retrieve your bags and weapons, which you made to hand over upon arrival. Soon as Doc waved over to you, you knew it would be impossible to keep a secret like this from him. 10k thinks the same because he says, “I don’t know how long I can be around him before I break.”

“We can tell Doc, but nobody else. I don’t want anyone to know anything until... I don’t even know.”

“Until we are finally sure things are safe?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Our team is our family; this affects them, and I don’t want to freak everyone out until it’s absolutely necessary. How are you feeling about it? Your head took a pretty hard hit when you hit the ground.”

10k Let’s take a deep breath. “I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified. But we’ve made it this far.” Seeing tears build in your eyes, he pulls you in for a hug and kisses your forehead. “We’ve made it through much worse; we just need time to get our heads around it.”

Taking his hand, you walk towards Doc and Sarge in comfortable silence. Just as you reach them, George appears with a large smile on her face. “Hey guys, I’m glad to see you made it in. Did you get your work assignments?”

“Sure did.” Doc replies. “You’re looking at a future intake examiner. I guess they liked my bedside manner.”

“I’ve been assigned gate duty with the volunteer militia,” Sarge pouts.

“So have I,” 10k says.

Sarge seems a little happier that she and 10K have the same assignment, but she struggles to hide her disappointment. George picks up on it as well, “it’s only temporary. Once the referendum passes, you’ll be able to work anywhere in New America. I personally like Pacifia, my home, but there’s something for everybody.”

You liked the sound of that. Personally, you either wanted to live in an open area like a forest or a farmhouse. You knew it would be a long time before that day came, but having that goal reminded you how worthwhile all the shit you’ve been through was.

George’s dark eyes land on you. “What about you? What’s your work assignment?”

“I don’t have one yet,” you shrug.

George nods her head; she looks like she’s going to say something but notices the nervous glance between yourself and 10K and changes the subject. “Well, if there’s anything I can do—one moment.”

You watch as George orders men who are guarding the fences to be less rough on a woman who’s the new type of zombie. She calls for Dante to hand her one of those little black biscuits and feed it to the women, making her much calmer. Without those biscuits, camp would be screwed; it was the only thing that stopped people who had died from turning completely Z.

—

After a quick shower and a hot meal, you go with the rest of your group while they are on gate duty. You didn’t want your first day in the place to be alone, especially since you’d got an appointment for a scan later on that day. Even though the doctor confirmed you were with a child, you didn’t feel any different; the only difference you felt now was a massive weight pressing down on you for keeping it a secret. But knowing so many things could go wrong, it was best to keep it quiet for now. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Warren! Murphy!”

“Oh my god! Roberta! You are indestructible! Look at your hair,” Doc says, pulling a brunette into a hug.

It takes you a few seconds to fully register. Warren was standing in front of you. She was alive. You jump to your feet and rush towards them. “I can’t believe Murphy actually found you. I was so sure both of you were gone.”

Warren hugs you tightly. “I’m glad to see you. I’m so glad you guys made it this far; I was worried I’d never get the chance to see any of you again.”

Whatever happened to Warren when she supposedly died changed her hair back to its natural color. You liked it; she looked more like herself again. Murphy’s skin still remained bright red. Although Altura was the longest zombie-free outpost in North America, you couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that it could all change now that Murphy had arrived. Seconds after the thought crosses your mind, Murphy causes a scene by refusing to go for his examination.

Seeing Dante step forward, you jump in between them and say, “Listen, he’s got a phobia of scientists.”

Doc starts to try and defuse the tension but stops talking when Warren and George smile at each other. They walk towards each other and hug. It turns out they were old friends who saved each other's lives at the start of the apocalypse.

—

The outpost was more impressive than you first realized; it even had its own bar—not that you could drink for a long time, but it was nice that others could. When you first entered the bar, you were pleasantly surprised to meet Simon Cruller, better known as Citizen Z. It was crazy to think how many times he’d saved your asses without ever actually meeting you.

“Oh my god, what is that?”

You try not to barf as a citizen places down a large glass of green tequila before sitting down beside 10k and saying, “Do not let me drink this; I have a wife and kid.”

10k tilts his head and looks at you with wide eyes; you could already see the sweat gathering at his hairline. You had agreed to sit down with Doc and gently break the news to him that night, then, in a few days, tell the others, but the unknown elephant in the room had caught the attention of Sarge, Simone, and Doc, who were all staring at the two of you, waiting for one of you to say something.

Doc suddenly lunges forward, “Reds alive! She’s here with some dude, and they have a kid!”

Before either of you can answer, glass shatters from the other side of the bar, and two drunk men begin to shove each other while arguing. Sarge and Simone go to intervene, while Doc stays behind. A baby? How long have you been apart from her? Keeping track of time in the apocalypse was never easy.

“Sorry kids, I thought you would be over the moon to—”

10K suddenly lunges forward, downing the green tequila he burns loudly before wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He looks at Doc and blurts out, “Astra’s pregnant, with a baby!”

Doc leans back into his chair and says, “Oh my god, I mean congratulations. You guys must be—”

“Terrified.”

“Nauseated.”

“What’s going on, gang?” Warren asks, walking towards you.

“Nothing, nothing,” 10k scrambled to his feet. “I need some fresh air.”

“Yeah, I’ll go with you.”

—

“You guys should go talk to her,” Sarge says, motioning her head in the direction Red was going.

While walking around the stall area, Sarge caught up with you and 10K; if she sensed something was going on, she never let on.

“Yeah, it would be nice to catch up with her and find out how she vanished into thin air.”

You start to approach her first, watching as she smiles brightly and talks to someone, but when a man hands her a baby wrapped in blankets, you quickly turn and head in another direction. It was too much. Starting a new life, finding out you were growing a new life, Warren coming from the dead, and now seeing Red with a family—it was too much for you to process at once.

“Astra! Astra, wait!”

You run until you start to feel physically sick and sit down on a patch of grass. Pulling your chest up to your knees, you quietly sob. You lose track of how long you’re sitting for; you only lift your head when footsteps approach from behind. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“No need to be sorry.”

“Red?” You wipe away your fallen tears and stand, saying, “You’re really here.”

“And you’re alive!” She rushes over and embraces you in a hug that you desperately needed. “I spoke to 10K; just to be clear, I’m not married, but here you are. Congratulations.”

You pull back and chuckle. “I’d say I wish you were there, but it was kind of chaotic.”

“Isn’t it always? What kind of wedding was it?”

“It was a spur of the moment, word-dying type of wedding.” She laughs, thinking it’s a joke. “Red, I’m so sorry about everything that happened before you left. I’ve missed you so much; I should never have left you and taken off like I did.”

She offers you a kind smile. “What’s done is done. Now we can only look to the future, and for the record, I’m sorry too.”

You squeeze her hand, “friends.”

“Fri— what was that?”

You both look over to the building the voting was going on in to see smoke coming out from the side of it. “I think a bomb just went off.”

[kawaii-queen-kaiju]

Killer

Maribat March - Prompt 8

TW: Panic attack, gun/murder (in self-defense), mention of blood

-

The sound was echoing in her head. Playing on loop, over and over. Marinette tried to hide from it, burying herself in her ridiculously expensive duvet, but she kept hearing the bang, feeling the heavy metal of the gun in her hand. Seeing the man's body hitting the ground, laying in a pool of his own blood.

She let out a shuddering breath, burying her face deeper into her feather pillow, wrapped in a silky soft case. She doesn't deserve this kind of luxury. She's a killer.

Marinette sat up abruptly, flinging the comforter off of her, and herself off of the cloud-like mattress. She scooted back, pressing her back into her bookshelf, digging it in painfully. Good. She's not a hero, she deserves the pain. She killed a man, and with no Miraculous Cure to save him he would stay that way. Sobs wracked her body as she curled herself into the smallest ball she could.

A knock at the door made her freeze, breath getting caught in her throat. She knew it was just one of her siblings, Bruce, or Alfred, but all she could hear were gunshots, echoing in her ears. All she could see was the man in the horrible clown mask pointing a gun at Red Robin. All she could do was wish that it hadn't gone down the way it did. Wish that that stupid goon hadn't had a hidden handgun, wish that it hadn't been a kill or be killed situation. Wish that she hadn't chosen to be a monster, chosen to be no better than the criminals she fought.

"Pixie! Hey, it's okay, I'm so sorry, just breathe with me!"

Distantly she could hear Jason's voice, breaking through the haze of self-deprecation she built up around her. Jason, her brother, who was always there for her when the culture shocks of Gotham hit her particularly hard. Her chest heaved as she tried to pull further away, pressing the bookshelf further into her back and making her whimper. She didn't deserve his kindness, doesn't he understand? She killed someone! She broke one of Bruce's only rules! Oh God, she broke the no-kill rule. Bruce was going to disown her and ship her back to Paris, and he'd tell everyone one what she did, and she was going to go to prison and rot in a cell for the rest of her pathetic life! It's what she deserved, so she couldn't blame him.

Jason picked her up and she flailed. Why doesn't he understand?! She's a monster! She's a killer!

"So am I."

Three words. Three words, and her mind halted in its tracks. "I know how hard it is, Pix. God, I was a wreck after the first time. I still get nightmares. But it wasn't your fault, Pix, it was his. He was going to kill Tim, and you had a choice to make. You and Tim, or that scumbag, who was probably going to sleep just fine tonight if you hadn't stopped him." His teal eyes flashed with regret, shadows of horrific things dancing in them. "You made a choice, and I can promise you, none of us are going to criticize you for it. Hell, it's the choice any of us would've made if we were in your shoes."

Another knock sounded at the door, and she jumped, but didn't fall back into another panic attack, thankfully. Dick poked his head in, giving her a soft look. "I've got all the Disney Princess movies queued up and loads of ice cream when you're ready, M."

She took a shuddering breath in. She didn't deserve this. All this pampering and ice cream. She's a killer! But... so is Jason, and Damian, and Cass, and she's 90% sure that Tim isn't as clean as they think. She still loves and trusts them and knows they're good people. Maybe...

Maybe she still is, too?

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 801

McCoy

McCoy got himself comfy for bed after he and Scotty talked. He wished he could have gone straight to Scotland with the Scotts. It hurt to know Scotty was hurting and he couldn’t do much to help from such a distance. He tapped his ring and got a quick light back. He settled in with the book he had chosen that afternoon.

The week fell quickly into a rhythm. Mother caught him after breakfast each day and they went over many details for the wedding. After lunch McCoy would pass on all the decisions they needed to make to Scotty, and then he would disappear somewhere to spend the afternoon soaking in the early summer heat with his book. After dinner he and Scotty would have a long chat and McCoy would fall asleep not long afterward, if he hadn’t already been yawning with sleep during their call.

Leah worked closely with Father most of the time, and McCoy only really got to see her at meals. He knew when she finished in the evenings she went to her room to talk with Robbie. Scotty said Robbie was starting to cheer up.

Messages came in from other friends as well. Uhura had traveled to visit Christine and they had spent a day out dress shopping, though Christine had yet to find what she called ‘the dress,’ though she was still hopeful.

As the week ended and McCoy began to pack for his trip to Aberdeen time seemed to slow. He couldn’t wait to see Scotty, even if it had only been a week. As soon as they saw each other they’d never have to be apart again. The thought made McCoy more impatient. The wedding would make it official, but to McCoy as soon as he wrapped his arms around Scotty in Aberdeen it would be official enough.

Spock was going as well, as his last official bodyguard duty. Once they were at Starfleet, the officers there would be protection enough, and Spock had his own new career to focus on like the rest of them.

McCoy wondered how the relatives of the Scott’s would react to a visit from not only a prince, but a Vulcan as well. McCoy wasn’t exactly looking forward to meeting Scotty’s extended family members. But he had said he would do it so they could collect pictures to rebuild the Scott’s collection. And for Scotty he would do nearly anything. He would be his most charming princely self. No matter how painful it might be, he would do it.

McCoy’s heart was pounding in his chest as the shuttle took off. From excitement of seeing Scotty in a few hours, or fear of flying, he wasn’t entirely sure. He took a few deep breaths. He could do this. He could learn not to be afraid. He had already made so much progress. When Scotty was with him he barely noticed the flying.

But he was still alone for this flight. Spock sat across the aisle from him, scrolling through something on his PADD.

McCoy’s fingers rubbed nervously across the palms of his hands and then he reached down into the bag at his side and pulled out his own device. He pulled up the book he had queued to listen to and found his headphones. Spock glanced over and McCoy gave him a tight smile. Spock gave a nod in return.

Another deep breath, and McCoy tapped his ring. Just a few more hours. A light flashed back at him, and he wiggled his shoulders to get more comfortable as the book began. He had chosen a voice with a soft Scottish lilt. A faint smile crossed his face as he closed his eyes.

McCoy blinked his eyes open at a soft touch on his shoulder. Spock was standing next to him.

“We’ve arrived sir.”

McCoy pulled the headphones from his ears. The book had stopped a while beforehand. He wiped a hand across his face to wake up.

“How long have I been out?” he asked, getting the headphones and PADD put back in the bag.

“Four hours,” Spock said.

McCoy’s eyebrows went up. He’d never expected to be that relaxed. He smiled. Maybe he’d get over his fear faster than he thought.

He followed Spock off the shuttle, waving thanks to the pilot. Their bags were waiting and McCoy settled his on his shoulder as they walked through the port. Anticipation was twisting in his stomach, growing the closer they got to the front.

And there!

Scotty and Granddad stood together. A bright smile broke across Scotty’s face as he saw McCoy. McCoy felt his own face do the same, and he quickened his pace. A moment later his bag was dropped to the ground and his arms were tight around Scotty, crushing their lips together. He heard Spock and Granddad greeting each other, but he was too overwhelmed by Scotty to pay much attention.

“Hi,” he managed finally when they broke for air.

Scotty laughed. “Hi to ye too.”

McCoy’s face was hot as he turned to the older man standing by.

“Hello Granddad,” he said.

“Hello your highness,” Alasdair said, twinkle in his eye.

“Hi Spock.”

“Hello Scotty. Your bag sir.”

McCoy reached over for the bag Spock held out to him.

“Thanks,” he said, face still hot. His chest was tight with happiness. He reached down to take Scotty’s hand as Granddad led them out to the car.

Part 802

Scotty

Scotty's chest was filled with happiness as he sat next to Leonard while Granddad drove them back to the house.

The pair held hands and couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Scotty was quite sure that he could see the same happiness he felt reflected in Leonard's eyes. The flight didn't even seem to have bothered him too much this time.

After most flights, Leonard had looked pale and exhausted, but this time the feeling of joy must have been stronger than the one of fear.

Scotty couldn't help but grin. There was still hope that his fiancé would get used to flying more and more. And as long as they were together, it would all go well anyway.

The Scotsman heard Granddad and Spock's voices in the front of the car, but he didn't pay much attention to what they were talking about. All he could think of was the fact that Leonard and him would never have to part again from now on.

Only when Alasdair called out his name quite loudly, he realized that his grandfather was talking to him.

"Montgomery!"

"What?"

Quickly, Scotty's head turned and he looked at Granddad's face which he could see in the rear view mirror.

"I asked if ye lads are hungry and want to grab some food somewhere."

Scotty blinked a few times, then exchanged a glance with Leonard.

"Oh, I... I don't know. What do ye say?"

The prince shrugged.

"I'm a bit hungry, but a sandwich at your home is enough for me."

Scotty nodded, however when they passed a familar street, he couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, I have an idea. Can ye pull into that street over there, Granddad?"

From where he was sitting, Scotty could see Alasdair nod, then follow the order. Once they were driving down the street, Scotty glanced at Leonard to see his expression. Would he notice where they were? It had been quite some time.

Almost instantly a knowing smile crossed Leonard's face and he chuckled.

"That's a good idea."

Scotty returned the smile and soon enough Granddad parked the car.

They entered the small restaurant and Scotty let out a relieved sigh when he saw that there were still some free tables. They were lucky.

Spock seemed to notice the place too for his shoulders seemed to relax at the familiar surroundings.

It didn't take long for a woman to walk up to them. She looked surprised for a moment, then smiled warmly.

"Oh hello there. Come on, have a seat."

"Hello Mrs. MacNicol," Scotty retorted and the others followed his example. Granddad nodded politely while the owner of the restaurant led them over to a table located more private than others.

She winked at Leonard as she pulled a chair back for him to sit down on.

"I remeber ye don't like too much attention," Scotty heard her say and Leonard smiled happily.

"Thank you. Though I didn't think you'd remember me at all, if I'm being honest."

At that, Mrs. MacNicol laughed out loud.

"I'd be damned if I didn't remember an important guest like ye."

They all sat down and the elderly woman hurried off to grab the menus.

Scotty looked at his grandfather who sent him a content smile. He had known this place for many years and therefore also knew that it was a great choice.

Scotty still had good memories of the first time he had been at this restaurant with Leonard and everyone else. It had been a great day of their summer vacation. And he hoped that they could make more good memories here.

[cassieuncaged]

Grave Bound - Prologue

Sgt. Elias x Maggie (my oc)

Summary: A benevolent sergeant becomes romantically involved with a volunteer nurse before seemingly losing her forever.

TW: wartime violence, misogyny, marijuana, drinking, language, etc.

WC: 5.3 K

A/N: repost from old blog. working on getting the others queued up. sorry this is long. it was originally a stand alone piece that I thought worked well as a prologue.

1967

“Wilson!” a medic, Carpenter, was calling the nurse over. The base camp was bustling whenever one of the choppers came, corpses and injured men being filtered in alike. Lieutenant nurses scrambled to aid anyway they could.

A plume of red curls rushed to the man’s side as the woman assessed the damage. Gunshot wound, several to the torso while the private’s left foot was a bloody pulp. Likely stumbled into a Claymore, though the woman was surprised the poor kid hadn’t gone into shock.

“Gonna need a tourniquet applied to Jefferson, here. Get that tied off and prepped for surgery.” Carpenter’s eyes were gaunt, dust collecting in a dark mustache. The man was sleep deprived, barking orders to one of the other nurses.

“Roger that.” nodding dutifully, the woman took purchase beside the private's cot. The linens were stained from her last patient who hadn’t made it, clutching a small hand desperately as the life slowly left his eyes. Carpenter had gracelessly rolled the private off the stretcher before disappearing through the tent's mouth. Quickly grabbing a tourniquet, the lieutenant wrapped it around a bloody ankle bone. Tears ran down the kid’s mud-stained face, eyes still frozen with horror. She didn’t recognize him, though he couldn’t had been more than nineteen years old.

“It’s alright, private.” Her voice was soft, nearly lost in the surrounding commotion. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up and ready for surgery.”

“Ohkay,” the boy nodded, watching as the young nurse marched away before returning with a basin. Water sloshed over the edge as she cleaned his torso. A pair of scissors relieved him of the tattered shirt before a lukewarm rag dabbed at the wounds. Nothing too deep or serious, mostly grazing his side. That could be mended rather quickly.

The foot was a lost cause. The tang of iron swirled in the nurse’s nostrils, mingled with the burn of human flesh. It was grisly, leaving small shoulders shaking as the urge to vomit was fought. But she had to be strong, for the kid laying on the cot. For all of them.

Uncle Sam was asking an awful lot from one young woman. Yet she continued, dutifully rinsing the mangled appendage the best as possible. The young man’s chest heaved, tears being held back.

“This might sting a little,” that soft voice was the only beacon he had, nodding as iodine drenched the open wound. Thankfully, the medic had pumped the kid with morphine to curb the pain. He continued to watch as freckled fingers cleaned and sanitized before withdrawing completely. Blood-stained digits snaked out to grasp at a slender wrist.

“Can you sit with me for a moment?” it wasn’t an uncommon request of the injured and dying, wanting to be comforted for the first time in months, sometimes years. Nodding solemnly, the woman took a seat on a stool next to the cot.

The kid drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes talking about a girlfriend back home or his parents before the doctors were parading over to take the next soldier back.

“I never got your name,” his eyes were heavy with delirium before being gracelessly transferred to a gurney. They couldn’t waste anytime if they wanted to save this man’s life. The nurse dawdled, ginger curls muddled with sweat.

“Maggie.” She added bashfully. The soldier said nothing, grinning dopily as he was hurried to the operating table. This hadn’t been the first time an injured man had looked into lush blue eyes like they were looking at an angel. But 1st Lieutenant Wilson knew better than to believe that. She was doing her job. And that was easier to do if they didn’t think she was a pure entity there to see them off of this mortal coil. Maggie was as doomed as the rest of them.

……

The remnants of one platoon were ushered back in while the next batch of unlucky bastards were shipped out. In between the unending insanity, new recruits arrived from basic. Mostly men who had run out of luck, some military brats that didn’t know any damned better. The red head wasn’t cut out for it. Maggie had known as much upon volunteering; the brutality of war threatened to pulverize brittle bones to dust. She refused to be crushed under the weight of it all, lending a warm vitality that put the soldiers at ease.

“Eating light today?” Rachel watched as she grabbed a piece of stale bread, watery green beans, and lackluster stew. The mess hall was hotter than any of the other ramshackle buildings, heat permeating from the makeshift kitchen.

“I can’t force myself. Not today.” She could feel her stomach rumble, barely full from the powdery eggs hastily eaten at dawn. Everything made her appetite sour, the texture, the taste. The other nurse filled a plate with slop as the two hustled to a table. Thankfully, there was hardly anyone there other than a few stragglers sneaking a late lunch.

The only exception was Red O’Neill. Tight, brassy curls swaggered over to the two women when his wolf whistles proved futile.

“Wilson, Mariano,” the man snickered with a faux salute before settling on the low-slung bench. “You ladies look like you could use some company.”

“In your dreams, Howdy Doody,” Rachel slouched over her lunch, shoveling the tepid gravy into her mouth. This earned an expression of pseudo hurt, blue eyes glittering on a matching pair.

“What about you, babe?” Maggie sighed, setting a crusty heel of bread aside. There was something depressing about O’Neill, like a dumb mutt that didn’t know any better. That goofy mustache wasn't doing him favors either. “We can always sneak away to the barracks anytime you like.”

“No offense, sergeant.” Small hands dropped to her lap, heavy lidded eyes tiredly grazing across to the man, “But you look like you could be my brother. And frankly, I’m not into that.”

The man blinked, mouth opening and closing as a blush crawled up his neck. No one ever expected Maggie to bite back, often flailing in surprise when that vitriolic wit made an appearance. Rachel choked on her beans, coughing wildly as Red awkwardly ambled to his feet.

“O’Neill!” Harris barked from the entrance, relieving the women of the soldier’s attention. Brown eyes fell on freckled shoulders as he sauntered over to his commanding officer.

“Everyday I go without getting laid, that man starts looking like the finest piece of ass here.” Rachel sucked her fork between gapped teeth, compatriot suddenly frozen, “You alright over there?”

“Overheard Caldwell talking to Captain Harris in the infirmary.” Eyes flitted to the perimeter nervously to assure there was no one listening. “They’re planning to send a handful of nurses out with some of the platoons. Set up a camp, help the medics. I think we’re all going to get killed.”

“Christ.” The brunette gulped, “Do we know who? Or when?”

“No official orders yet. Just don’t get too comfortable.” Nibbling at the bread again, Maggie’s appetite was nearly nonexistent. Exhaustion was slowly seeping into her every muscle while she feared everyday would be her last. Being sent away from base would make that all the more likely.

They remained silent for a long time, something that was uncommon for Rachel who scarfed down the rest of her food somberly. The two women cleared out of the mess hall before reporting back to the infirmary tent. There was likely another soldier to comfort. The meeker woman swallowed a sob while her friend lassoed an arm around hunched shoulders.

“We’re not until we’re out.” Mariano’s voice was thick with emotion, “We’re here for a reason. Even if it doesn’t fucking feel like it.”

A mass of copper waves bobbed, blue eyes settled on a group of men with rifles slung over their backs. This fight against so called communism just felt like classist bullshit, a reason to pit unknowing pawns against the NVA for the shallowest of reasons. But Maggie had to hold her tongue. Being a woman among feral men felt like lambs forced to live among wolves.

There weren’t many consequences with death right around the corner.

Rachel and Major Caldwell were the best two nurses to be aligned with; they were wolves in sheep’s clothing, snarling and rabid enough to keep the rest at bay. The red head hardly left their sides if she could help it, fearing the worst would happen if she did. Fear was all consuming and painfully palpable.

Maggie wasn’t ready to be swallowed whole.

……

Slipping into the cover of night, eyes darted around across long shadows.

The nurse couldn’t sleep and needed a chance to breathe without eyes prying, without the weight of the entire world falling atop her shoulders. Sporting a tank top, the humid breeze tickled bare shoulders as she ducked behind the nurses’ barracks and towards the edge of camp. An orange pinprick glowed in the night, moving closer. Maggie’s gaze shifted to it. Frozen like a frightened doe, she hugged herself tightly. Had she even been seen or was there still time to flee into the night like a phantom?

“That you, Crawford?” a reedy voice broke through the darkness, one she didn’t recognize.

“First Lieutenant Wilson, sir.” Maggie responded hoarsely, hearing a chuckle close in. Coming closer, the soldier was revealed more clearly under the moonlight. Clear eyes glittered, lips split into a grin.

“At ease,” he chirped, “Haven’t been lucky enough to meet such a pretty face yet.”

“It’s dark; my face might not be all that pretty.” It was a sharper response than expected as the man shook his head as the cigarette dropped to the ground.

“Ain’t you a pistol.” The stranger sounded oddly chuffed; most of the men couldn’t stand girls with a smart mouth. “Elias.”

A large hand was thrust forward in the dark, one that was met tentatively by small fingers. His skin was hot, calloused from hard labor. Yet he cradled her hand like a small bird, gentle though there was a firmness she couldn’t deny.

“You got a first name or is ‘first lieutenant Wilson’ all you’re gonna give me?” he chuckled, squeezing the hand wedged in his.

“Maggie.” Her voice was practically a whisper. Anyone else would’ve scared her, but there was a sense ease with the soldier. Wild hair was held back by a cloth headband. She deigned to run her fingers through the feathery strands. “One of the nurses.”

“Kinda figured that. Where you running off to in the dark?” His eyes darted over the woman, assuring no one was lurking in the shadows. Their hands slowly unclasped, both delighting in the spark of the moment.

“Couldn’t sleep. Decided to take a walk.” The grisly images witnessed inside the infirmary tent haunted her whenever sleep was futilely chased. Limbs shattered and obliterated, entrails falling from open torsos, cries of pain ringing in her ears long after last breaths had been taken.

It was nightmare fodder.

“Care for any company?” that gravelly voice sent a shiver down the woman’s spine. How long had it been since someone treated her like an actual human? Not a flawless angel tasked with keeping innocents alive or a slice of cheesecake for men to lust over in a land without consequences? Just a living, breathing person?

She couldn’t remember.

“I don’t want to get you into any trouble.” Brassy hair tickled ruddy cheeks. She was glad it was much too dark to see the burgeoning pinkness of fair skin.

“There’s loads of guys sneaking out of their bunks tonight.” His head hung for a moment, in contemplation. “The captains and generals have bigger fish to fucking fry anyways.”

“Know any good places to watch the stars for a bit?” it was added shyly, almost out of embarrassment. While everyone seemed far more worried about getting laid one last time, Maggie just craved to escape. And she longed to be among the constellations, composed of stardust, millions of lightyears away from Earth.

“Couple good hideouts. You don’t mind hiking to far end of camp, do ya?”

“That’s what these boots are for.” She chided herself internally for the silly comment as Elias regarded her fondly. There was a genuineness about the woman among cynical and jaded men fighting a pointless war.

He liked that, and she liked him.

……

The moon hung heavily in the sky as the two reclined against a mossy boulder. Hidden by the tree line, it was out of the sight of the night watchmen. This was the most privacy that could be afforded on enemy territory and Elias was willing to share it with this gentle lamb. Or maybe a rabbit; he half expected her to wildly hop back to her bunk. She was jumpy. Then again, they all were.

“The stars are so bright out here,” her eyes latched expectantly on the sky, as if beckoning it down. Eyes bright and full of wonder, the sergeant hugged his knees against his chest as bare shoulders collided with the rough material of his uniform. They were close, almost uncomfortably so. “Never seen them twinkle quite like this.”

“Where you from?” he whispered, chin propped on one knee.

“New York,” Maggie offered quietly.

“It’s hard to see the sky at all in that city,” Elias offered sagely about a place he’d never been to.

“Actually, I’m from Buffalo.” Turning to face him, it was a delight to see her so brightly in the moonlight. Tendrils spun of copper framed her like a halo, eyes a deep suede, lips curved into a pink bow. Her gaze settled on his, face still half hidden by folded arms, breaths slowly syncing as the silence settled. “The sky’s still a little murky there too. Where’re you from?”

“Wisconsin.” Elias sat up, resting his head against the boulder. One hand rustled into a pocket, pulling out a joint and a lighter. “The Dells. You ever been?”

“No,” Maggie shook her head shyly, watching as the joint was placed between full lips, sucking firmly as it was lit. His facial features were sharp, almost like thorns on a rose. Yet a softness lingered. Maybe it was the heavy-lidded eyes or the freckles that could be made out under the sparkling canvas of night. “Haven’t been to many places in the states. The farthest west I’ve gotten was Ohio.”

“Bout the same as Wisconsin. The Midwest all looks the same.” After taking a hearty drag, the joint was offered to the woman who politely declined. “My folks took me and my siblings to Arizona when we were kids. Mesa. The desert’s incredible; the plateaus, the caves. My brother saw a Gila monster and nearly shit himself.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Maggie giggled nervously, running a hand through her hair. “Lizards and snakes scare me too. My sister always said I was a little wimpy.”

“Can’t be that wimpy. You’re here, ain’t ya?” their eyes met again, this time there was a serious glint in crystalline eyes. A sob crawled up her throat like bile, something that was swallowed down almost guiltily. She had to be strong here.

“Yeah. At least I have good company,” Elias choked on his cigarette, unprepared for her blatant wholesomeness. Coughing out a plume a smoke laced with laughter, he caught a quick expression of hurt flicker across the woman’s face.

“I’m not laughing at you, sugar.” A smile was flashed in the nurse’s direction, garnering the smallest of grins in return. “God, if you’re not the cutest damn thing. Makes me wanna corrupt you.”

A bout of genuine laughter was murmured amongst a thicket of teakwood trees. Youthful and innocent, death seemed unimaginable. He was the warm sun melting the frost from a delicate flower.

*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*

“Can you come with me?” Maggie asked Rachel shyly. The showers were one of the few places of solace they had on base. It was an attempt at privacy though none of them ever travelled alone. It was dangerous. The brunette tossed her book aside, ambling down from the top bunk.

“Sure.” She groaned, boots thudding onto the ground. “Not sure what you see in that story, Mags.”

“Little Women is a classic.” Maggie was genuinely offended, protectively shoving the paperback into her trunk. “You said you were bored.”

“Stand down, Wilson,” Rachel joked as the red head grabbed a towel and a bar of soap. “I was hoping you had a deck of cards in there, not a library.”

“I have some cards!” one of the off-duty nurses chirped.

“Know any games, Sue Ellen?” the brunette asked wryly.

“Texas hold ‘em.” the woman shrugged. They all grinned; it was better than nothing. “We can bet with pennies and bobby pins.”

“Get it set up for us?” Maggie added sweetly before Sue Ellen nodded. It was hard to deny Lieutenant Wilson anything she wanted, considering how genuine she was. Then the two nurses were ducking into the humid evening, clutching a threadbare towel and the cleanest change of clothing that could be found.

A few squads were stepping, chanting a cadence as the two traversed in the opposite direction.

“Used to date a beauty queen. Now I date my M-16.” Rachel sang out of tune as they trotted away. A bony elbow rammed into the quiet woman’s ribs.

“Took away my faded jeans. Now I'm wearing Army greens.” Maggie added listlessly as the men broke out of formation in the distance.

“God, I can hear it in my dreams.” Rachel groaned as they weaved between a couple buildings, emerging beside one of the soldiers’ barracks. Hoots of laughter could be heard from inside as they passed, hoping they’d go unnoticed. A few high-ranking men hurdled past in a Jeep. “You?”

“I’m not lucky enough to have dreams,” blue eyes caught on a familiar face amongst the men milling around for the evening. Cloud of dirt settling around them, Elias leaned against one of the buildings with a few others she didn’t recognize. “Only nightmares.”

Chest of his uniform unbuttoned, tan skin was exposed and glistening with sweat, tawny hair hanging across a broad brow. Likely feeling the burn of her gaze, those clear eyes glittered at the women. Brow furrowing for a moment before that infectious grin spread across sharp features.

“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” Rachel’s voice was sharp, pulling Maggie back to reality.

“Huh?” Turning from the young soldier, deep brown eyes suspiciously took in the pink blooming across a round face. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“That’s obvious. Looks like we’ve got a visitor.” Maggie hardly had chance to prepare herself before the man was sidling up to the women, ignoring the playful hollers from his compatriots.

“Holy shit, it is you.” Heavy lidded eyes ran the gambit from the crown of copper hair to the toes of dusty boots. Any other guy would’ve gotten socked by Rachel for even attempting to leer at the woman but his demeanor remained kind and awestricken above all else. Apparently chivalry wasn’t dead. “Damn, if you’re not even prettier in the light of day.”

“Funny how the sun does that,” Rachel quipped before she was shot a warning glare in retaliation. “Introduce me to your friend, Mags.”

A weak fist collided with a tan shoulder, earning a surprised chortle as Elias’s own gaze met those of his equally immature buddies. Crawford made a few kissing sounds while King lewdly waggled his tongue before their sergeant turned back to the bickering nurses.

“Sergeant Grodin.” He mock saluted, the brunette smirked in approval, lips curling upwards to reveal gapped teeth rivalling his own.

“At ease, sarge. Lieutenant Mariano.” Hands clasped briefly, “Looks like your boys are going wild.”

“They’re harmless,” waving them off, blue found blue again. Rachel looked between the two over to the men.

“I can handle harmless.” Waving playfully, the woman started marching over before turning back with a final warning, “Be good to her; I’m packing and I sure as hell know how to use it.”

“Your friend has balls.” They watched as Rachel swayed her hips, earning a new chorus of howls as a few more soldiers left the barracks to investigate the display.

“She has something,” Maggie’s eyes fell on the ground, clutching her towel closer to her chest. It was the most nervous she felt in years, being the center of another person’s attention. Especially that of a handsome sergeant in the middle of enemy territory. This was dangerous. The idea of getting attached terrified her to the very core, even more so when she looked up to meet those clear eyes. His soft smile was stretched over those sharp cheekbones. She wanted to learn more about him, to have another ally here.

“Where are you ladies headed?” looking up found another one of the Jeeps skidding down a dirt road. “Could probably find you a ride.”

“Showers. They’re pretty close by.” She shrugged, hoping her nervousness wasn’t palpable.

“You need anyone to stand watch?” eyes widened as the man awkwardly realized what he implied. “Christ. I mean to make sure no one gives you girls any grief.”

“Rach has a push dagger, just in case.” Maggie winked, giggling playfully. Elias found himself chuckling too, delighting in the way the sunset framed red curls like a halo. She was an angel walking amongst men. He didn’t believe too much in religion, but she made him feel like he could. A little golden cross was hooked around a freckled neck, rivaling the wooden rosary he sported.

A part of him wondered if she actually believed in God or if it was a formality. Suddenly, he wanted to learn everything about this stranger.

“You in the infirmary tonight?” one brow arched upward, in attempt to not seem eager.

“No. A few of us nurses were gonna play some poker and drink a few beers.” Maggie looked around nervously, pressing one forefinger against pink lips. “We have a bit of contraband.”

“If a rebel like you can break away for a minute, I’m gonna be out watching the stars again. Don’t know how true it is, but I heard the captain mention something about a meteor shower if you’re interested. Wouldn’t mind some company and a little contraband if there’s any to spare.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Spine a little straighter, Maggie felt playful for the first time in years. Elias Grodin had an infectious demeanor.

“Groovy,” those gapped teeth bit into a full lip before he was turning back to his buddies and Rachel was returning.

“Got yourself a hot date?” the woman teased as they continued their trek to the showers.

“No. But I might have a friend.” Maggie puffed her chest out proudly, feeling genuinely elated while Rachel pretended to retch.

……

“Is that a flush?” Mary slammed her hand down on the ground, tight curls messily piled atop a sunburned scalp.

“No,”

“Not even close,”

Rachel and Sue Ellen announced in unison as Maggie laughed.

“Be cruel about it, why don’t ya!” the blonde rolled her eyes, throwing herself backwards dramatically.

“Watch the beers!” Sue Ellen hissed, braids bouncing as she protected the bottles. “You hoarding yours over there, Maggie?”

“Mags has a date.” Rachel threw an arm around pink shoulders before pressing a kiss to a sweat dappled brow. The other women hooted childishly as the read head hid her face beneath shaking palms.

“Is it Red? Because you can do better.” Sue Ellen snickered before taking a swig of the lukewarm alcohol.

“Noooo.” Maggie whined from behind her fingers.

“Our girl bagged a cute one. Little, muscular fella.” There was another surge of laughter. “One of us should have some luck out here.”

“You’re embarrassing her!” Mary put a stop to the teasing, her Tennessee drawl cracking the slightest bit. “Let our sweet girl have fun.”

“We’re just watching the stars…” the woman mumbled awkwardly, face burning from both the sun and the blush she’d been unable to shake all evening. That smug smile and clear blue eyes were emblazoned on her brain while cold shower water couldn’t even cool burning skin.

“Whatever you call it, have fun.” Rachel squeezed her friend close one last time before the nurses started a fresh round of cards. Blue eyes fell on an old wristwatch, nervously waiting for twenty-two hundred hours to roll around. She didn’t want love; Maggie just wanted a bond. Anything to quell the burgeoning loneliness.

……

The superiors were full of shit.

Elias hadn’t so much as seen the tail of a shooting star. Or Maggie for that fact. It was getting closer to eleven and there hadn’t been so much as a shadow staggering past the thicket. Sucking sadly on a dwindling joint, his head hanged until ears perked at the distinct noise of boots in the foliage.

“Sorry I’m late,” Maggie chirped as she scuttled over to the soft patch of sod, rucksack landing on the ground in a heap. “Was stuck in a riveting game of Texas hold ‘em.”

“Was about to give up on ya.” He grinned, “Hope you won.”

“I’m the pits when it comes to cards. Walked away with five pennies and a bent bobby pin.” Settling beside the soldier, the bag rattled as two bottles of beer were retrieved. One was dutifully handed off.

“Aren’t you a sweet thing,” his thumb easily eased the cap off before the bottle was being tipped to his lips. Foam dribbled down a sharp chin as his Adam’s apple bobbed. There was something about the man, muscular yet angular. Maggie couldn’t help thinking that he was equal parts beautiful as he was handsome. “Anyone ever tell you staring was rude?”

“Sorry,” the red head bashfully shook her head before opening her own drink, “You’re just so, so…”

“So…what?” Elias teased, resting his cheek on one knee, hair falling in his face again.

“Silly.” Scrunching her face playfully, they both found themselves in a bout of laughter. It wasn’t what she was thinking but it wasn’t untrue either. One large hand reached between them, retrieving a transistor radio. Flicking it on, the antenna was adjusted until a melody was picked up. “I love The Grass Roots.”

“Smart girl. Guess I knew that, though. What else you like?”

The opening sitar notes of Let’s Live for Today played as she mulled over the question. It wasn’t deep but she wanted to be as honest as possible, to share her soul with him. Maybe he’d share his with her, not leaving the woman too exposed and alone.

“I’ve nearly worn out my Freewheelin’ and Bookends records.”

“You listen to Dylan?” brows rose with piqued interest as they both took another swig of warm beers.

“Do I not seem like the type?”

“I don’t know. You seem like the type to listen to Mozart’s Requiem or Chopin. Some classical shit.” His head fell back against the boulder with a muffled laugh before Maggie did the same thing.

“I mean, I do. But I love Bob Dylan too. I love a lot of music.” Their eyes fell to the sky, raking over the glittering stars. One shot across lush blue like a tear drop. It wasn’t a meteor shower but it felt like magic.

“Ain’t that something?” his voice was tender whisper, a large hand sliding to rest on a bony knee before being pulled away. “Sorry, wasn’t trying to get fresh.”

“It’s okay.” Their eyes met, dark like wet river stones under the moonlight. “It was nice.”

“Well, if you don’t mind.” His warm palm rested on her leg once more, a calming gesture for two touch starved souls. “You watch any movies?”

“Recently?” Maggie snorted at her own joke.

“You know what I mean.” Long fingers squeezed the woman’s knee, earning a quiet giggle. It had been a while since either of them had attempted to get close to someone new, both rusty and awkward.

“I really liked Charade.”

“Stanley Donen picture. It’s a good one.” He mulled it over, watching how her eyes sparkled when taking in the moon. “I think Singin’ in the Rain is my favorite.”

“Really?” Maggie sounded shocked. Elias scoffed, feigning hurt.

“Not all of us guys love Clint Eastwood or Bridge on the River Kwai. I give Gene Kelly a lot credit; takes a lot of practice and talent to dance like that.”

“Forgive me, please. I’m surrounded by a bunch of meatheads who love their AK-47’s more than their mothers. It’s refreshing really.”

“I��m full of surprises.” Then he was leaning back against the cool surface of stone, topping off his beer before switching back to the joint. Elias kept his hand on the green uniform covering Maggie’s knee. It had felt like an eternity since she’d been touched and she never wanted it end.

1968

They were shipping out at dawn. A small camp constructed, Captain Harris was corralling his men while Major Caldwell readied her nurses.

Sergeants' O’Neill, Warren, Grodin, and Barnes were taking orders while the sheepish Lieutenant Wolfe was bossed around by Bob and Elias. Fresh out of college, the man had never been in a position of power and was in over his head. There wasn’t time for she and the sergeant to meet before, sharing quick glances and nods. Whatever was blossoming between them had no place during a time of war and could get them both in hot water. Instead of risking their titles, Elias had only chanced a hug. She was safe in his arms, lips pressed to the crown of ginger waves. It was the epitome of comfort.

That was all they truly needed.

Especially now, as a sleepless night carried on. Lying in the bottom bunk, Rachel’s head hung over the edge.

“You up?” Mariano’s voice was hushed, faint almost.

“Yeah.” At this admission, the brunette dropped to the ground with a thud, earning an angry groan from the other side of the bunks. Rachel nudged Maggie over, crawling onto the slim mattress. They laid there, nearly falling off the sides as eyes stared at the exposed springs of the mattress above them.

“This is really happening.” Rachel wanted to talk, but Maggie couldn’t. Sobs caught in her throat, tears threatening to escape. It had taken so long to come to fruition that the threat seemed that it would stay that way. It was like being a horse shipped to the glue factory.

Not to mention the way she’d seen so many soldiers lose their humanity, forget their purpose completely and become unhinged by power. That was already prevalent in Barnes’, the most terrifying of the sergeants under Harris’ command. The way he snarled and sized her up like a hungry wolf sizing up a plump rabbit. It scared her. And for the first time since she’d left home, Maggie sobbed. Tears stained dark circles beneath sunken eyes as her friend wrapped slender arms around the woman. She was strong yet she was breaking.

[seiyasabi]

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs. 

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc.. 

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol) 

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious. 

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water. 

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment. 

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads. 

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame. 

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back. 

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm. 

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’ 

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?” 

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).” 

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!” 

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest. 

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples. 

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up. 

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!” 

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face. 

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow. 

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-” 

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!” 

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.” 

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside. 

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out. 

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart. 

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe. 

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk. 

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head. 

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did. 

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn. 

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy. 

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off. 

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber. 

-

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs. 

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features. 

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn. 

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh. 

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.” 

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties. 

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away. 

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart. 

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer. 

It seems Bokuto fucked up. 

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves. 

-

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved. 

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn. 

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble. 

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut. 

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you. 

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you. 

Sadly, that doesn’t work out. 

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features. 

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.” 

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.” 

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you. 

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed. 

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach. 

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you. 

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain. 

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road. 

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully. 

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up. 

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop. 

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips. 

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open. 

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!” 

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. 

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all. 

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream. 

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace. 

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!” 

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness. 

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!” 

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock. 

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock. 

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly. 

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.” 

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima. 

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.” 

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.” 

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.” 

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.” 

[softsnzstuff]

Obsessed with content creator Steve! And very obsessed with his boyfriend trying to get him into bed! Now I’m imagining how Steve would react with Eddie as the sick one. Constantly leaving to check on his bf, noticing him in the chat and telling him to go to sleep, cutting the stream short to take care of him. The whole world is so cute.

Hi Anon! Sorry this has taken so long!!

****

“Thanks for joining the stream everyone! Nothing crazy today, just playing some Mario Kart to kill time.” Steve made eye contact with the camera and smiled before turning his attention back to the stream.

“Why aren’t you playing with Eddie?” One viewer asked in the comments.

Steve noticed the message and looked back to the camera, “Someone went and got himself sick. He’s just in the next room resting.”

A flow of heart reacts and comments came rushing in.

“Feel better Eddie!”

“Poor guy, maybe next week.”

One message in particular made Steve do a double take:

“Thanks for the comments guys, I’m okay. Be back soon. -E”

Steve paused the game and looked towards the other room and then looked into the camera, “Eddie get off my stream! You’re supposed to be resting.”

Through the livestream, a faint response could be heard, “I am resting! I’m just also watching you. That counts.”

“Man, I can’t do a stream if I know you’re not getting your rest.”

No response.

Steve looked at the chat - “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me. Everything’s fine. -E”

The younger man rolled his eyes, resuming the game. Viewers could see Steve’s screen. He was playing as Shy Guy in the lightweight pipe car.

“Watch out for that banana!!”

“Cmon, Harrington can’t come in second!”

“Only one lap left!”

In the background, faint but painful sounding coughs could be heard.

“Is that Eddie?? Is he okay?”

Steve sighed, “Yeah that’s Eds. Hang on guys I’ll be right back.”

Steve paused the game and got up once he finished lap 3. He walked into the next room where Eddie was sprawled on their couch, watching the livestream on his phone. He was rubbing his throat, wincing from the recent coughing jag.

“Here babe, take some more of this.” Steve picked up a bottle of cough medicine off the counter and handed it to his boyfriend.

“Thanks Stevie.” The older man rasped. “You didn’t have to pause your stream.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah I did. You sound like shit, Munson. Wanna take care of you.”

“I can come sit in the room with you. So you know I’m resting?”

Steve nodded and retreated back to his gaming setup, putting the headphones back on. Eddie followed close behind, plopping himself on the futon in the background, barely visible.

“Eddie’s gonna sit in with us for the next race guys.” Steve smiled and flipped through the different course options. He settled on Luigi’s Mansion and queues up the race.

“Nxxt! H’nnnxt! NGT’chiew!” Eddie ducked into the collar of his shirt at the unexpected triple. He sniffled and then looked at Steve’s camera. “Sorry!”

Steve turned around, “Bless you, Eds.”

That was enough to set the chat off:

“Bless you!”

“Aw poor bb…”

Steve was halfway through lap two when Eddie started that god awful coughing again. Steve tried to turn around and look while keeping an eye on the race, concern visibly filling his chest.

Eddie cleared his throat once the fit had stopped. He noticed Steve’s backwards glances every now and then. “I’m fine Steve. You’re lucky I’m down for the count or I’d be whipping your ass at Mario Kart right now.”

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head, focusing on finishing in first place. He had a turtle shell queued up and aimed perfectly to knock the NPC out of the running.

“YES!” Steve threw his hands in the air when he crossed the finish line.

In the background, Eddie exhaustedly pumped his fist in celebration, “Yay Steve!” He coughed, “Hissshiew! NG’tchiew! HAGT’schiew!”

“Bless you times three.” Steve turned back to the stream, “Alright everyone. This guys looking a little worse for wear. I think I’m gonna sign off and get him to bed.”

Steve said his sign off as final messages came in:

“Feel better soon! Get some rest!”

“Lots of fluids!!”

Eddie used both hands to blow a kiss at the camera as Steve shut down the stream.

“Alright Eddie, time for you to get some actual rest.” Steve helped him up by the elbow as Eddie scrubbed at his nose with the back of his hand.

“SnFF, yep soun’ds like a plan to m’be…”

[uwuwriting]

How the boys SIMP! w/ Bakugou, Kaminari and Todoroki

Request: I got like five requests about several of our favorite boys simping over their girlfriend so yeah, here we are. 

Hi I’m not dead, yet at least. I;m starting to believe that my brain will turn to goo after all the chemistry and biology I’ve been studying. Sorry for not posting, my tumblr decided to be a dick and deleted my queued posts so haha yeah. Anyways my posts won’t be as regural as they used to because school....kill me. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: SIMPING

Bakugou Katsuki

-Okay he is rather subtle with his simping. 

-He won’t straight up kiss the ground you walk on. 

-BUT he will be kinder and a little softer. 

-Maybe sometimes to the point others notice and it’s not a good look on him. 

-Or at least that’s what he believes. 

- “I have a reputation to keep, baby.”

-That was said behind closed doors at 3 am on the rare occassion he stayed past his bed time. 

-And yes he will ignore his bedtime for you. 

-One of his simping tactics. 

-He will cook for you, he will pretend that he’s annoyed that you aren’t eating well enough or healthy.

-So he becomes mama Bakugou and starts cooking for you.

-Bento boxes for school, snacks while you are studying, dinner and breakfast.

-He will teach you how to cook some dishes for when he is not here and you get hungry. 

- “We’re doing your favorite.”

- “Aww Katsuki, you know my favorite.”

- “Shut up dumbass and pay attention.”

-Speaks rather softly after a while, showing you how to correctly cut the ingredients and how to stir the mix without making a mess. 

-He will just leen on the counter and watch you add all the ingredients with that little concentrated pout on your lips. 

-His heart goes oops. 

-He will be so engrossed with your beauty that you’ll have to give him a small shake when you need him. 

-Pretends to enjoy what you’ve made if you messed it up somehow but will give you honest feed back and advice so you make something edible next time.

-You tend to spend the night at his dorm and he loves it. 

-It’s usually on accident.

-You cuddle him while he goes to sleep and your plan is to get up and leave once you have taken your fill. 

-But he is warm and oh so cuddly that you fall asleep as well. 

-He wakes up around ten o’clock everytime to make sure you left and when he still feels you next to him he just lets out the most genuine smile. 

-He will pull you flush to his chest *if you are not already* and take in your scent saying a little I love you before going back to sleep. 

-The next morning he will wake you up before anyone else gets up and walks you to your room. 

-Thankfully you are on the same floor so you don’t have to go far. 

-He always walks with you to and from class no matter his mood.

-He monitors his tone when he can help it and will warn you when his mood is really awful. 

-In general it’s the little things with him not grand gestures and all out simping. 

Kaminari Denki

-Worships the ground you walk on. 

-All out simping no shame. 

-He will straight up give his soul for you. 

-And he is rather proud of that fact. 

-The polar opposite of Bakugou. 

-And he can get on everyone’s nerves with his simping. 

-Picks you up form your dorm room every morning, carries your bag to class and opens every single door you come across.

-Gives you his food if you show the slightest of interest in his meal. 

- “Denki I just want a bite.”

- “I CAN GET ANOTHER ONE BABY!”

-Calm down sir....calm down. 

-Has canceled game night because you had period cramps. 

-The thing with that is you never actually asked him to come cuddle or something you just mentioned that you were heading to Recovery Girl for some pain killers. 

-Man was waiting you at her office in -0.5 seconds. 

- “I thought you were playing COD.”

- “I canceled.”

- “YOu wHAt?”

-Bakugou legit thinks you are the reason Kaminari keeps blowing them off. 

-That you are some type of overly clingy girlfriend. 

-DENKI IS AN OVERLY CLINGY GIRLFRIEND. 

-Has gone off on a russian dude because while you were playing COD together he said something about girls being really bad at video games. 

-Your man almost got banned.

-He skips class if you’re sick which is rather sweet but simultaneously really really dumb. 

-Aizawa is coming fro his ass in 3....2....1.

-Boy didn’t even reach your door. 

-You just heard your boyfriend’s girlish screams coming from down the hall followed by pleads of mercy. 

-You were -><- this close to going out there to see what was going on but then you heard Aizawa’s monotonous voice and just went back to sleep.

-He later came over and narrated his traumatic experience. 

-Poor baby just wanted to take care of you.

Todoroki Shouto

-He’s a mix of Bakugou and Denki.

-He likes being subtle and showering with affection behind closed doors but also will be at your beck and call. 

-In your or his room he likes to hold you close like really really close.

-Oh you are studying?

-Will just hug you from behind.

-You are watching something on Netflix?

-Will rest his head on your shoulder. 

-You do the same really because he is a very very touch starved baby and he needs more love. 

-He Likes to bring you food that Fuyumi makes. 

-He visits his sister on the regural so he always or almost always comes back with a small bento box with your name on it in Fuyumis delicate writing.

-Fuyumi loves you and she knows what a simp her baby brother is for you.

-In public he isn’t on Denki’s level.

-Yeah sure he will open the door for you.

-Sure he might ignore everyone else and only answer to you. 

-But that doesn’t make him an immediate simp.

-No no.

-What makes him a simp is the way he treats you during free period. 

-Clingy boy to the fullest.

-And a bonus, will do anything you ask. 

-You are doing a project and you need to test something in extreme heats? He has laready rolled up his sleeve.

-You are thirsty from studying? He is already on his way to buy you a water bottle. 

-He’s more of a protective simp.

-Considering who his father is he really gets protective over you whenever he is around. 

-Also doesn’t like training with you because he doesn’t want to accidently hurt you. 

-The last simp characteristic of his is drum roll......

-Your sleeping schedule. 

-It’s fucked up basically.

-You tend to study until you pass out in his room and he will always carry your to your dorm unless you tell him otherwise. 

-Will risk detention for being out past curfew just to get you to your room. 

-I LOVE HIM!

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​  @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @bemorefiction​ @dnarez-mangetsu​

[pascalpanic]

Lovely Josie! Can I request a Frankie piece? Where reader is part of the friend group and really into Frankie. She knows he's also into her but just typical insecure Frankie. So she flirts with him and tries to seduce him every chance she gets until one day she's had enough and really goes for it. And if course Frankie likes it 😇 Merci!

Spicy-Sweet (Frankie Catfish Morales x f!Reader)

summary: ^^

W/C: 4.3K

Warnings: lots of talk of alcohol, food, god Frankie’s an idiot but a cute one, so much pining and flirting, implied age gap and Frankie’s insecure over it, Frankie has a brief and mild anxiety attack but is comforted

A/N: this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Bucky- that was what the men called you. When you’d first joined the group of men, it’d been as Pope’s friend, a shock to all of them; you weren’t sleeping together, weren’t sneaking around. Just friends. That threw them for a loop. You were always at his side, his right-hand wing-woman. Frankie had been a little put off at first that he’d been replaced, but he grew to like you just as much as the other men. That’s how you’d earned Bucky: Cap’s sidekick, Pope’s sidekick.

When you finally bonded with the rest of them, became friends with them, you were less Pope’s sidekick and more yourself. You grew to love the men for different things. Benny was always there to cheer you up, full of bad jokes and energy. He’d take you out when a date stood you up, buy you a beer on your shittiest days. Will Miller was a shoulder to cry on. He was smart, strong, emotionally intelligent. Wise beyond his years, Ironhead always had the best advice for you. Pope was the partier, and was the one who got things done. Organizing plans was his forte. He loved getting the group together to hang out, and was the only one who could rally the group.

Frankie was all of that and more. Everything. Frankie had caught your eye the moment Pope introduced you to the men. Frankie was the quietest, even quieter than Will. He never enjoyed the spotlight, especially when you were new, but he loved making his friends laugh. He was comforting and helpful, lending you a jacket or helping you with a manual labor task you couldn’t quite get.

Frankie is the one you have a crush on. All of the men have their attributes, and you have to admit that any of them would make a good boyfriend and surely a good lover, but they are and always have been brotherly first. Frankie was something different. You wanted to stay in his arms forever, wanted to kiss the bald patch on his jaw and steal his Hawaiian shirts. You tease him endlessly to hide your feelings, though never in a mean way at all. Always soft and joking, always reciprocated by the teddy bear of a man.

You were the same to him; the first time he saw you, he thought he wanted to marry you someday. He loves your laugh and your humor, loves the way you nudge his side and even though it’s a little painful, wants you to do it again just so he can feel your body touching his. He loves how you can hold court over the men with your stories, can get them to agree on the most divisive of issues. He’d even proposed once that you become Cap, not Bucky. You were clearly a leader. But Santiago brushed it off by saying that Bucky was getting his own show now, so he’s just fine, and besides pendejo, you can’t change a nickname once it's been given.

Emotionally constipated Frankie is just fine to sit to the sidelines. If he has one principle with love and friends, it’s that he’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. That’s why he doesn’t necessarily openly flirt with you, why he suppresses his feelings until it’s late at night and he’s alone and can daydream about your pretty face and tight jeans and the crinkle of your nose when you smile.

You’re different. You wear that green shirt you know Frankie always ogles you in when it’s a night out. You buy him a drink or two. You insist he dance with you, take him on errands with you on a Saturday morning. You can read the man; you’re pretty damn sure he likes you too, but you don’t want to ruin it. Rushing him is the last thing on your mind.

-

As you wander through the farmer’s market on a spring Sunday morning, you shiver as the breeze rushes past your bare arms. Frankie doesn’t notice; he’s too busy admiring a booth selling hot honey. You can’t help but laugh as he delightedly samples a spoon of the syrupy-sweet-spicy product, and turns to you with wide eyes. “Bucky, you gotta try this,” he insists, handing you a sample spoon.

Nodding, you give in and taste it. The flavor on your tongue reminds you of Frankie if he were a flavor: a little spicy, but more of a warm feeling. Infinitely sticky-sweet, floral and tasting of sunshine. There’s heat, just a little, enough to awaken your tastebuds and mingle with the honey perfectly. “That’s good shit. How much is it?” You ask the vendor.

A few minutes later, you walk away with two bottles. You hand one to Frankie. “Here. This is for you,” you tell him with an earnest smile.

Frankie’s brows slide together beneath the brim of his favorite ball cap. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you shrug and pat his cheek, your path curving to the right as you approach a bakery stall.

The morning is sunny and just slightly cold, making you shiver every so often. Sweet Frankie walks dutifully at your side like the dogs and their owners similarly strolling the tent-lined sidewalk. His eyes light up as he sees breads and flowers, homemade jerky and beautiful jewelry. The variety is exciting, and you often hear Frankie shouting for you from a new booth.

While you admire the jewelry made of local stones, something warm and soft covers your shoulders. You look down to find that it’s Frankie’s suede brown jacket. “You looked cold,” he tells you and turns a little pink before patting your shoulder and wandering off.

At the end of the day, you have a full reusable bag, brimming with goodies: a small bright bouquet, two loaves of bread, cookies, fresh berries, and a bottle of hot honey. Frankie’s is similarly stuffed, though it’s with much more unhealthy choices. The two of you sit on a grassy hill, munching on a pack of thumbprint cookies Frankie purchased.

The morning sun is just starting to warm up, but the jacket you’re now wearing is cozy. You lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder as the two of you rest there without words, lost in your own thoughts.

God, he’s so cute. So sweet. A little stupid. Just how I like them. Is my flirting not obvious enough to him? You wonder internally.

Frankie’s thoughts are similar but different. She’s so sweet. She’s so nice to me. I wonder if she’d ever like me like that.

-

Partying is Pope’s favorite pastime. The man enjoys getting shitfaced and taking a similarly drunk date home. Lord knows what they do; you’re glad you don’t. That leaves you and the Millers and Frankie. You and Benny dance and sing karaoke, twirling and shouting the lyrics to the song blasting in the bar. Frankie and Will sit on the sidelines.

That’s exactly where tonight has found you. A surprisingly sober Pope has gone home with a pretty girl he flirted with briefly before she tugged him by the jacket sleeve. He shot a look of excitement at the four of you before leaving.

Now, Benny requested his favorite song through the pay-per-tune machine in the corner. You’d squealed and dragged him out, dancing with him on the wooden floor the bar provides. Frankie can’t help but think the two of you would make a good couple. The two of you are full of sarcasm and energy at most times, around the same age. Frankie’s a bit older, and he can’t help but think that it would be weird for you, that it would prevent him from liking you. If only he knew.

Benny does, actually. He’s annoyed that your group doesn’t give him enough credit for his smarts. He might be mostly muscle, but he’s packing brains too. He’s great at observing social interactions, and he can especially tell that there’s something between the two of you. He’s learned his best friend like he knows how to drive or what his own phone number is. Benny knows Frankie, and he knows he won’t make the first move for fear of upsetting you. That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to be your blonde, blue eyed Cupid and queued up Frankie’s favorite song next.

You know it’s his favorite song. Of course you do. When it comes on, you turn to the bar with wide eyes and wave to catch Frankie’s attention, then wave him over. Benny says something or another and wanders off. It takes some nonverbal persuading, some pleading eyes and pouting to the man, but Frankie eventually adjusts his jeans and gets up, leaving that suede jacket behind on his barstool.

“It’s your song!” you exclaim as you throw your arms around him, starting to dance along with him. He moves back with you, though nowhere near as fluid or free.

He shakes his head but smiles, and you flick the brim of his cap. “Oh come on, you love this song. Don’t be such a dope,” you tease and grab his hips, forcing him to move them a little more than the stiff motions he’s making.

“I am a dope,” he mumbles and you roll your eyes, moving in a way that invites Frankie to move back against it. It’s a two-person dance, and you’re starting to get him moving.

Chuckling, you look up at him. “You ever seen Footloose?” you ask him.

He blows a raspberry into the air, laughing. “Of course I have. It’s my favorite movie.”

“Then how come you can’t dance?” You tease.

Frankie makes a noise of mock-injury, clutching his chest. “Damn, Bucky. Right in the heart.”

You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder. “I was going to say that you remind me of Willard. I guess that’s fitting though. You can’t dance.”

His scent is the only thing you can think about, the way his cologne is spicy and sweet on his flushed skin, warm from having you in such close proximity. “Does that make Pope Ren?”

“And it makes me whatever the girl who dates Willard is named,” you shamelessly flirt, swaying him to the side as the song changes in keys.

If there was anything in Frankie’s mouth right now, he’d be choking. Maybe it’s just because you’re dancing together, he rationalizes. Maybe it’s just because you wouldn’t want to date Pope. It can’t be because you like him. That’s not even a thought that crosses his mind. “Ha. Sure,” he shakes his head, taking off his cap and teasingly placing it backwards on your head.

It’s loose on your head, and you laugh as you look up at him. Frankie has that feeling again in his gut: he’s going to marry you someday. It can’t be the alcohol, not in either of you. You’ve both only had a drink each. No, in this moment he realizes the depth of how bad he wants you, but he cannot comprehend that you want him too. There’s no way you could ever love a man like Francisco Morales, he tells himself. But he wants you to. He aches for you to.

The song ends and the ache only grows. Frankie is not a dancer. This is his time to retire to the barstool. “Well, thank you for holding my hat,” he teases you and steals it back, putting it on himself and patting your side before wandering back to his spot next to Will.

You frown, but then Benny finds you again and the energy returns somewhat. You long to feel Frankie’s arms around you again, to dance with him and whisper jokes next to his ear so that you can feel the way his laugh buzzes in his chest. You consider buying another play of Frankie’s song later, but that would be suspicious. You’ll have to find another way, but you have to do it soon; you’re not sure how much longer you can last before you combust from not getting to kiss his soft lips, to feel his scruff beneath your fingertips as you cup his face and finally close the gap between the two of you.

-

Frankie is much too old for parties. He’d decided that even a few years ago now, that that sort of thing was best left to the young bucks who could drink endlessly and awaken with only a mild headache. How the hell Benny had talked him into attending this party, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that you’d be there and that was enough for him.

You’re not a big partier either; you can get wild, but only around your friends, usually only with Benny there to egg you on and hand you shot after shot. You don’t particularly like getting drunk, just enough alcohol to make things a bit lighter. Benny and Santiago were the ones who’d insisted you and Frankie come along to this party a mutual friend of theirs is hosting.

Of course, the boys wanted you two there but had failed to mention they were each bringing dates. When you wandered in with Benny and a girl flung herself onto him, peppering his blonde stubble with kisses, you’d quickly learned that you weren’t going to get a good night with your favorite guys. Santiago was similarly taken, a girl draped across his lap in a busy living room, each of them holding a drink. He’d given you a two-finger salute as you wandered to the kitchen, kind of annoyed.

You’d dressed a little nicer, though nothing too special, and you immediately hoped at least Frankie and Will would be around tonight to hang out with. Will’s not a big partier, though he’s a little more social than you and Frankie. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and your face falls as you read the text.

Ironhead: sorry guys. Not gonna make it out tonight.

He provides no explanation why; Will never does. You know better than to question it. Your only hope now is that Frankie doesn’t blow you off.

Frankie could never. The promise of you being at the party was enough for him to meticulously shave and spray that cologne he knows you love on his flannel, which you’ll surely ask for because you’re always cold. He’s not here yet, so you lean against the kitchen counter and crack open a hard seltzer as you look around. Bringing your drink with you, you hit the bathroom and when you return, there’s a familiar ball cap poking above the crowd, labeled with Standard Heating & Oil. Frankie.

Sneaking up behind him, you snatch the cap from his head and put it on yourself. “Hey, pilot,” you sing as he turns and his face lights up to see you. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, leaving an indent in those curls from where the cap was.

“Goddamnit, Buck,” he laughs and tries to steal it back, but you dodge out of the way.

“Looks like it’s just us tonight, flyboy,” you sigh as you prop an elbow on his shoulder and look around, finding Benny and his girl making out on the dance floor and Santiago playing with a woman’s hair on the couch.

Frankie has to admit he’s okay with that. “They didn’t tell me they’d be bringing dates,” you grumble. Frankie holds back a chuckle. This was most definitely planned, Wingman Benny embracing his role in forcing the two of you together. Frankie couldn’t say he was too upset about it, in all honesty. “Come on, let’s get you a drink,” you shake your head and grab Frankie by the bicep, trying not to shiver at how muscular his arms are.

In the kitchen, you toy with the hem of his shirt as he mixes himself an old fashioned from the vast cocktail bar. “I love this one,” you murmur absentmindedly, admiring the worn fabric and the ripping seams at the hem. It’s so perfectly Frankie: an old black Fleetwood Mac shirt, nearly falling apart. There are holes in the hems and under the left armpit but it always smells sweet and spicy, just like him, and feels like a security blanket. “Looks good on you.”

“Looks like a piece of shit. I need to just throw it out, but I can’t bring myself to,” he chuckles as he finally takes a sip of his drink. He knows the reason he can’t: you love it too much.

“Good,” you nod and set down your hard seltzer, making yourself a drink.

“What you got there?” he asks as he watches you stir up a concoction.

“Essentially the same as you. Old fashioned but with Fireball instead of regular whiskey.”

“You seem to like the spicy-sweet thing, don’t you?” he teases.

God, if only he knew. “Spicy-sweet, just like someone else I know,” you tease him and nudge your shoulder with his. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

Frankie’s heart does several backflips in a row, complete with a roundoff and a cartwheel. He’d earn the gold in the Olympics, the way his heart tumbles and turns in his chest. “Ha,” he laughs dryly, looking down at his own drink, swishing it and watching the ultra-sweet cherry spin through the dark liquid.

The music gets louder from the other room as you and Frankie drink in silence, both of you leaning against the kitchen counter as the amount of alcohol per cup steadily decreases. “I’m gonna go see if I can find Pope,” Frankie finally speaks over the loudening noise, nodding to the living room where everyone is clustered.

“Sure,” you call back, even though he’s just a few feet from you.

It’s practically a maze, trying to find his way through the people. They’re all moving and bouncing, the sound overwhelming him. It’s like a goddamn mosh pit, he thinks, or how it must feel to be buried inside one. How did this party become something like this, and why the hell is he here? Frankie wanders through, getting turned around as the group moves and sways.

His breathing gets heavier, and suddenly Frankie feels suffocated. His primary objective no longer is finding Pope, it’s getting the fuck out of here before this herd stampedes him to death. He feels pathetic and small, like a single fish in a giant school wandering through an abysmally deep sea.

When the tide loosens its hold, when Frankie sees a path, he takes it out. He’s not sure how long he was trapped in there- 20 seconds, a minute, five minutes, but he’s overwhelmed and his head is spinning, his drink somehow gone and lost in the shuffle.

You see him stumble out, looking terrified, and rush over. “Hey, hey, Frankie,” you murmur as you grab his forearms. “Are you okay? Did you find Pope?” You ask, your thumbs tracing over his pulsing veins.

He shakes his head, and you take it as a no for both. “Okay, come on, did you drive here? Is your truck out there?”

He nods and grabs his keys, putting them in your hand. “Alright, pilot, come on. Let’s get you out of here.” You stick the hat back on his head and hope it could maybe bring a sense of normalcy back to him.

Frankie’s head feels like radio static as you bring him to the truck, unlocking it and sliding in first across the bench seat. He follows in after you and closes the door, and he turns the air conditioning on full-blast, feeling desperately hot.

“Hey, hey. Talk to me,” you beg of him, cupping the side of his face with one hand. You shiver under the quick breeze of the vents, the cold air immediately filling the cab of his truck. “What happened?” You ask, just above a whisper, fingers tracing the stubble of his jaw.

His eyes are getting more normal, less panicked and more sane. He must’ve had some kind of anxiety or PTSD moment in the crowd. “Just… thought I was gonna get crushed,” he murmurs, not looking at you.

“Frankie. Let’s breathe together, okay? Look at me.” His eyes find yours and you smile. “Good. Follow me.”

You ground him nearly instantly, your chilled skin under his hands as he grips your upper arms, your soft lips parting to breathe in and out. The flutter of your eyelashes when you close those beautiful eyes, the one that have such a distinct unique color. He would kiss you right now if he had the courage.

He breathes along with you and is calm enough by the second breath to think rationally again. The wave has passed, leaving his body feeling tired and limp. “I-I’m good,” he assures you, tracing his fingers across your skin. “Bucky, you’re freezing.”

“Frankie,” you give a sad chuckle. “I’m supposed to be calming you, and-“

“I’m super hot, please, take this,” he says as he shucks his flannel and hands it to you. “It would help me,” he says simply, enjoying the way the air conditioning more directly contacts his skin without it on.

“Well, okay,” you laugh and slip it on, breathing in the warm scent that is Frankie and sighing contentedly. “See? I love the sweet and spicy thing, like your cologne.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “Oh, stop. You don’t mean that.”

You frown at him. “Frankie. You’re thinking straight again, right?”

He nods.

“Then how aren’t you processing how in love with you I am?” You ask with a soft laugh, resting your head against his shoulder. “I flirt with you endlessly, and it feels like you never pick up on it. So now I’m just going to say it: I like you, Frankie.”

Biting his lip, Frankie looks down at you with slight confusion. “Really?”

You laugh incredulously, burying your face in his neck. “Yes, Frankie, really. I like you a lot. I have since the moment I met you. And I’d like to think you like me too.”

There’s a beat of silence and he nods, taking one of your hands in his and lacing the fingers together. “I really like you too. I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met, Buck,” he admits, wide brown eyes looking down at you with all of the love in his massive heart. “I just… didn’t want to assume anything. You’re so good to me, but you’re so good to the other guys too.”

“Do I buy the other men bottles of hot honey? Have I ever brought a date around like the other guys do?” You ask, lovingly and hoping he sees your point. “I’ve been pining for you for so long, Morales. I just want you to get it through your thick skull that I care for you and I’ve been in love with you for quite a while.”

“I feel stupid,” he mumbles, ears turning pink at the tips. “It was pretty obvious. You’re right.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid,” you assure him and squeeze his fingers. “I personally think it’s fucking adorable that you didn’t want to assume that. I like that, that you didn’t want to do anything first without knowing the same about you. I like all of you, Frankie, from that scruffy beard to these cozy flannels you always let me borrow.”

His heart melts in his chest, reducing him to a puddle. “Then I guess I should ask if you’d be my girl.”

His girl? If you thought he couldn’t get any cuter, you were wrong. You can’t hold back any longer and you swing your leg across his lap, straddling him in the bench seat of his truck. “Can I kiss you, Frankie?” You ask, gently removing his cap and setting it aside.

“God, yes please,” he practically whines as he cups your face in both of his big hands, kissing you deeply and breathing out heavily through his nose.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, Frankie’s body pressed to yours as your lips meet. You both taste that perfect spicy-sweet flavor, the way that’s so Frankie in your head. This might be the sweetest and softest man alive, you think to yourself, and goddamn, you’re lucky, Bucky.

His body radiates the heat of his love and stress and everything, completely melting into yours. You’re never going to stop doing this now that you’ve started. You’re never going a day without holding Frankie like this.

Your legs are firmly planted on either side of him, and Frankie moves his hands to grip your waist and pull you in closer. Shivering at the way he practically manhandles you, you moan into his lips, murmuring his name breathlessly. It’s like the most perfect melody, the way you say it. He mumbles your name back, your real name. Not Bucky.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself tight against him, running one hand through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He tastes like heaven, just as perfect as you’ve dreamed about for as long as you’ve known him. When you break away, you smile softly, admiring the way he’s panting beneath you. His head is tilted back to look at you on top of him, his eyes glazed over and cheeks warmed with pounding blood. You gulp and trace the side of his face with feather-light fingertips, admiring his beauty. “God, Francisco,” you murmur. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

-

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[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

So I found a Faie/Quinlan after the war au snippet that I actually really like and for whatever reason never posted! Here it is. The context is Faie struggling to live on his own and Quinlan coming over to help.

Quinlan cradles Faie’s cheek with one warm hand while the other pets his chest and stomach in sweeping lines under his shirt. Faie thinks he might be dying, floating away on the feeling of Quinlan all around him. He can’t support his own weight, even just to lay on his side like this, and it’s a painful relief to fall back into Quinlan’s arms. He’s so solid, Faie thinks. Heavy, like he’s dragging the whole apartment down into the impression he makes in Faie’s couch cushions. 

Faie lets himself fall into it, into him, and doesn’t bother holding onto anything but the feeling of Quinlan’s hands on him and the hum of his voice and the plush of his lips on the back of his neck. He could be happy like this. 

Faie’s out like a light, boneless against Quinlan’s front and breathing steadily into the crook of his neck. He’s lost weight, or maybe gained it? Redistributed it? He feels different in Quinlan’s arms. His shoulders are sharp and his bad leg lays awkwardly between them. He doesn’t dare move it. 

The holofilm Quinlan’s queued up plays softly over the sound of Misty’s purring and the people upstairs walking back and forth. Quinlan keeps petting Faie’s hair. He’d melted into Quinlan’s hands earlier, fell apart like Quinlan’s touch was relieving some deep-seated pain. He’s not about to take that away while Faie sleeps. 

Quinlan lets Faie sleep through midday and most of the afternoon. He hardly stirs, just drools onto Quinlan’s shirt and squeezes the two fingers of Quinlan’s right hand he’s got in his left. 

At four thirty, an alarm on Faie’s communicator goes off. Afternoon meds, it tells Quinlan when he silences it. On the kitchen counter. 

He contemplates letting Faie sleep through it, but then his stomach rumbles and he wonders when Faie last ate or drank anything. He jostles Faie awake. It’s harder than he anticipated, and Faie looks absolutely wrecked when he opens his eyes. 

“Mm?” 

“Hey,” Quinlan murmurs. “It’s time for your meds. You should probably eat something, too.” 

Faie heaves a sigh and buries his face in the crook of Quinlan’s shoulder, nuzzling him like he’s trying to burrow into his shirt and hide. “‘M tired.” 

Quinlan frowns. “I know, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the guilty twist of his heart when Faie’s hand tightens around his. “It’ll be quick.” Faie says something into Quinlan’s shoulder, too quiet to hear. “What? Didn’t quite catch that.”

A soft hum. Faie shifts so he’s looking at Quinlan with one hazy, bloodshot eye. “Nothing. Please let me go back to sleep. You can leave if you want. I’m just tired.” 

Oh, Faie. Oh, love. “Actually, I thought I’d stay the night, if that’s alright with you?” 

Faie freezes mid-breath. He blinks at Quinlan, then, very quietly, whispers, “Yeah, that’s alright.” 

“Thank you. I still think you should have something to eat, though.” 

Faie looks away. 

Quinlan can’t have that. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m tired, Quin, please just let me sleep.” 

“How about this: You stay here on the couch and I’ll get you something to eat and bring you your meds. Does that sound alright?” 

Faie shivers. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” Gently, Quinlan eases out from under Faie and tucks the blanket back around him. It really is chilly in the apartment without someone to cuddle. 

He’s almost to the kitchen when he’s stopped by a soft, “Quin?” 

“Yeah?”

“Could you feed Misty, please? At six? Her bowl’s by the dishwasher. Wet food. She had dry food this morning.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll set an alarm so I don’t forget.”

Faie’s whispered, “Thank you,” is watery at the edges. Quinlan pretends not to notice.