#i was fine yesterday morning and then this shit hit me like a truck

[bittersweetblasphemy]

im sick af

[definitelynotstable]

Feverish [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: Hey sexies! I haven’t used Tumblr since I was like 13 (which was a while ago) and I haven’t written fanfic in a while either. I find it hard to like things without them consuming me and the current addiction is CoD. It started with CoD mobile - me and the flatties play each night and then I rediscovered Modern Warfare and realised MW2 existed. Instantly obsessed. Why are they all so fine???????? Anyway. I haven’t written creatively since like high-school so I’m rusty and there is lots I don’t know. Go easy on me babes x

Synopsis: "Holy shit, you're burning up!" – reader is sick, Ghost is worried. Word count: 1.7k Ghost x reader (callsign “Rags” don’t ask why) not proof-read i have adhd babes x

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5am just wasn’t the ideal wake-up time. Something you should’ve thought about before joining the military. Something you definitely should’ve taken into account when accepting a position in such an esteemed taskforce. The 141 rarely took breaks. When you weren’t on active duty you were at base training. Price was a stern but fair Captain. His drills were consistent and hard, pushing you all to your limits but still allowing you to grow as a team.

But Price wasn’t in charge of training today. Nor had he been for the last week. Away on some need-to-know mission he had left his lieutenant in charge. Simon “Ghost” Riley. Less consistent, far more stern but just as fair as the Captain - Ghost’s drills were significantly more difficult.

You stretched carefully, rotating your neck from side to side and sighing as it clicked. You could hear voices down the hall and the distant rumble of the kettle. Soap and Gaz no doubt. Now fully dressed you pulled on your boots and shuffled down the hall.

“Morning boys.” You yawned, pulling out a chair and slumping to lean against your crossed arms on the table.

“Morning, Rags,” Gaz echoed back to you, Soap grunting in acknowledgment as he poured his coffee.

“Any clue what the LT has in store for us today?” You ask, watching as Soap fiddled with the french-press.

He huffed as he settled into the chair across from you, nursing a mug between his scarred hands. “Somethin’ horrid, nae doubt, he’s been in a bad mood since Price took his leave.”

“I’ll say,” Gaz scoffed tipping the dregs from Soap’s press into his mug and heaping in sugar, “can barely feel my arms after yesterdays drill.”

You groaned rubbing your eyes, “yeah, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I don’t recall there being any trucks involved in the drill yesterday - but that can be arranged.”

The bored voice drawled from the doorway, Lieutenant Ghost himself stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded across his broad chest. The man took up the entire goddamned doorframe.

Resisting the urge to stand at attention you cracked a sheepish smile. The 141 weren’t one for formalities.

‘Morning LT,” Gaz took the words out of your mouth from where he leaned against the sink, “got more pain in store for us today?”

“If you though yesterday was painful, sergeant, you’ve got a big storm coming.” Ghost turned go head out. “Gym in 10.”

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He wasn’t kidding. Today was worse. The lieutenant had designed a circuit so difficult even Gaz was complaining - something usually only Soap had the gall to do. God you were tired. You hadn’t struggled this hard to complete a drill since basic training as an unfit and unmotivated 18 year old. “Pick it up Sergeant!” Ghost barked from across the room as the battle ropes slipped form your sweaty hands. You grit your teeth and did as asked, only two minutes to go.

“Fuck!” You swore under your breath as the rope thunked against the floor, leaving your grasp again. You quickly squatted to pick it up, hoping the Lieutenant hadn’t noticed. You flinched as his stern voice echoed through the gym but it was Soap on the receiving end, the man smirking as Ghost yelled at him to keep form.

You turned your focus back to the ropes, planting your more firmly as you noticed your form starting to waver. God you felt like you were about the keel over.

“Pick up the pace Sergeant!” The voice came from your left, flinching to hear the Lieutenant so close. Feeling worse by the second you did as you were told, pushing every last inch of energy into the ropes in front of you.

He’ll be gone soon, you told yourself, He’ll move on to yell at Gaz and I can slow my pace.

But the hulking figure in your periphery remained and you found your resolve wavering. Without warning the world tilted dramatically and your cheek was bouncing off the sweat covered foam on the floor. The distant clanking of weights came to a stop and impeccably polished and shined boots filled your vision. Ghost.

“Rags!” Gaz thumped to his knees beside you, yanking you into a sitting position. His worried face swimming in your vision.

“Settle down, Gaz,” Soap spoke as he pulled him back and someone else came to kneel in front of you. A water bottle was pushed into your hands and a cool but rough hand landed gently on your forehead.

“Christ you’re burning up!” The lieutenant rarely swore outside of the field, you must be on fire.

“Yeah no shit,” Water dribbled down your chin as you took a swig of water, “that was a tough drill LT.”

Soap coughed out a laugh from where he stood behind Ghost, "Aye, I reckon he's sayin' ye've got a fever, lass.”

You scoffed, batting back the lieutenants hand, “I think I would know if I had a fever, I just need a rest.”

“Your dripping in sweat,” Ghost retorted cooly.

“We were just working out.“

“You fell over -“

-“It happens-“

‘Not to you.” The lieutenants voice was firm. “Not to us. We are special forces military - we don’t just ‘fall over’.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, you knew he was right. Leaning forward, Ghost looped his arms under yours and pulled you firmly to your feet. You wavered slightly, his grip on you the only thing keeping you standing.

“You need rest.”

Gaz popped into view, eager, “I can take her back too her room, LT!”

Ghost swung his gaze over the young sergeant who shrank back immediately, “if you thought this was the end of training for today, you’re wrong. You and Soap still have a minute left. I want you halfway through the next set once I’m back.”

Laughing Soap clapped Gaz on the back, “Come on lad. Let the LT look after Rags, we don’t give up so easily.”

You scoff, “Rude.”

“Get well soon, Lass,” Soap winked, pulling Gaz back to his station as Ghost led you out of the gym.

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“You really don’t need to lead me to back to my room, I know the way.”

“We aren’t going to your room,” Ghost grunted, his hand hovering behind your shoulder blades as you wavered.

You looked up, frowning as you locked eyes with him. “I don’t need to go to the infirmary, LT. I just need a nap.”

The man shrugged, gently pushing you forward. “We have free healthcare, may as well use it.”

“God you’re relentless,” you muttered, missing how his eyes crinkled through the mask.

“To a fault, sergeant.”

The nurse in the infirmary whistled as she read your temp.

“Good thing you brought her here, Lieutenant,” she turned to you with her hands on her hips, ‘you’re dehydrated, hun. I’m keeping you here overnight or until your fever breaks.”

“Really? I can never sleep in here, it’s too bright.” You felt like a child under the stern stares of the nurse and Ghost who stood beside her, arms crossed.

“We can dim the lights if you’d like, sergeant,” the nurse offered, bustling around while she prepped an IV, “but you’re staying here until I say.”

You sank lower in the bed, letting your chin fall against your chest.

“I usually sleep with an eye-mask.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“What was that, hun?”

Ghost steps closer with a single nod, “speak up sergeant.”

You cleared your throat, feeling silly. “I usually wear an eye-mask.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” the nurse smiled, pulling your arm to the side, “small pinch.”

You sucked in a breath as the needle slid home.

“Where is it?”

You looked up, surprised the lieutenant was still there. “Where’s what?”

“Your eye mask.” Ghost responded, arms still crossed.

“Oh,” you wince slightly as the nurse hooked up the fluids to the port on your arm, “uh don’t worry about it LT, one of the boys can grab it later I’m sure.”

“I’m here now. Where is it?”

You met his eyes, surprised. “My room, either on my bedside table or in the top drawer.”

Ghost leaves with a curt nod, the curtain swishing behind him. You sigh, leaning back into the pillow behind you, praying it’s lying on top and not in the drawer that holds a variety of items you definitely don’t want your Lieutenant seeing.

By the time he returns you’re half asleep in your fever-induced delirium. The lights are dimmed but your eyes still burn. He gently lays the mask on the bed next to your arm and makes to leave.

“Thanks LT.” You say with a rasp, cracking your eyes open further.

He looks up, blue eyes meeting yours. “Though you were asleep.”

You laugh softly, “Wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t sleep without it.”

“Mm.” He grunts in acknowledgement. “Lieutenant?”

“Yeah?” He stops, hand on the door handle.

“Thanks for today.”

He nods sharply, not sure how to respond. “Thank me when your back in fighting shape, sergeant."

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Masterlist

[posttexasstressdisorder]

To my tumblr homies...

...and y'all know who y'all are...

Let's hope the coming year isn't nearly as bad as we think it's gonna be.

Something tells me there may be something out of the ordinary happen in this shitshow that we can't see because reasons.

Reasons like doomscroll propaganda, like Yet Another Influx of Bots...pornbots, russian psyop bots. liking posts from 3 or 4 years ago, and following.

Case in point, one I blocked yesterday: seemed to be someone "on our side", with multiple posts generally supportive of the Good Guys, but in their one-page-blog, there was 1) an antimask post, and 2) an antivax post, and 3) a political post basically saying we're doomed.

I'd advise everyone to block all unfamiliar usernames, especially those with obvious pornbot names like "sweetemily98", etc. See unfamiliar usernames in your likes or follows? Nuke-em!

These past ten days away from posting have been odd and rough. One of our number, my brother-from-another-mother in eastern OR called me out of the blue two days after xmas to tell me his wife had passed away that morning. This one hit hard...wonderful lady, he and I have been bros for 25+ years now...the two of them were beyond kind when I went on my big road trip in '13. They loaned me their vanagon to camp in for a week...just wonderful folks. And she made a damn fine breakfast. Please send some love to my bro. He'll know.

As for my situation, I tried to just let myself collapse for a few days. Tried. Downstairs neighbor situation gone DefCon4. Banging/thumping long into the night, and all day. Noxious chemical smells, several different ones, wafting up through the floorboards. Sometimes I wake up with my bronchs completely closed, especially when she uses one particular one.

I am, essentially, being poisoned in my own bed. They refuse to change their behavior, except to maybe bang less loudly. Chemical fumes come up through the floor like they are IN MY BEDROOM.

I did some googlin', and I think I figured out what they're doing: the daughter is probably making fake braids and "weaves" out of synthetic hair. google the dangers of that shit. I'm at wits end. I've had the manager up here a couple times to listen and smell but they always stop what they're doing when he's here...they see him walk up the stairwell.

She came up and screamed lies at my front door, trying to make all the other neighbors think I was the bad guy. She says the noise I hear is "children next door running up and down their livingroom". Bullshit. Bitch responds when I say something loud enough for her to hear: either gets mad and slams it all harder, or takes whatever it is into the bathroom, which is just as bad, and makes worse smells.

A few times she tried to bang softer, but every thump hits me in the kidneys. My PTSD is off the hook. I could not sleep for four straight nights. She went until 3:30 am one night, regularly goes until after 1am. Absolutley unresponsive. Absolutely not taking responsibility for endangering my health. I have asthma. These fumes are literally killing me in my sleep.

She refuses to do this in another part of the apartment, like the living room, or the kitchen where there is a VENTILATION hood, no no no she HAS to do it right under my fucking bed.

I am a nervous fucking wreck. I just re-added up bills for January and now I am gonna be like $45 short. I put one fucking gallon of gas in my truck, afraid to put more. I will have to only partially pay the Electric bill, I guess.

Living in abject poverty, in what is essentially an un-safe place that costs $2800/mo. And the agency that is trying to find me a roommate said i needed to "lower my price" to $1300/mo, but that won't pay the fucking rent.

I got notified in October that I am on the "waiting list" for a really cool "seniors only" subsidized complex in Berkeley that is on a creek, next to a park, run by a nonprofit org, that will take 1/3 of my SSI as the rent. I might actually be able to...you know, LIVE.

But it may be literally YEARS before I can actually end up there. I went back to the listing, and they say "no previous evictions", so if I finally am evicted for being broke, I won't be able to get into that complex.

I have no idea where i am on the list, I have no idea how many old people would essentially have to die for me to finally get an apartment there. I've been doing my best to just keep repeating a little mantra of "my new address is..." all the way down to the zip code. Over and over. I don't know what the fuck else to do.

The stress of this shit, plus the incoming shitshow that we all know is gonna happen, feels fucking lethal. But I'm a PTSD-stricken, broken old autistic nearly 66 year old man who can't really keep up the energy to "mask" enough to leave the house and get groceries, so what do I know.

I know I woke up screaming from a nightmare this morning.

I feel like I'm being hyper-acutely "Spidey-Sensed" to death. And as I typed that, the thumping from downstairs started in again.

Drums. Drums in the deep. That never stop. I am living in the fucking Chamber of Mazarbul. Literally.

I am gonna wait until tomorrow to start posting "regularly" again. My energy levels are not gonna allow me to do the three radio show posts, I will have to cut it back to one a day. So that brings me to another point:

All the shows are on my archive page.

I made this a week-long poll, to get as many responses as possible before I make a firm decision.

To wrap this post up, thank you to all of y'all who have been so loving and supportive. Y'all are essentially all I got right now.

As we approach this symbolically "new" year, I hope we all wind up in better, safer, more humane circumstances.

Love y'all,

PTSD (aka Mr. Baggins)

[stormcrow513]

Disposing Of Baneful Material

Ok couple things first one I'm coming off a cold and my heads still a bit fuzzy so if anything is incoherent opps my bad,

second use of general you ahead so if you're not doing what I'm talking about them this is not aimed at you,

I am not looking for an argument here,

I'm writing my own post cause I didn't want to possibly start shit with someone on another persons post,

Ok so some of y'all might know my mama is on Tumblr now @silverphantom72 she's slowly learning the ropes and slowly learning to follow people and such,

She came up to me yesterday morning, about this post that scared the crap outta her, the op was asking how people get rid of used magic material, all fine till ma got to where one person said they dump baneful material at the gas station,

Ma works at a gas station has worked at a few, understandably this freaked her out,

I couldn't really reassure her given the more thought I've given it the more it's freaked me out, let me break down my problems with this,

I'm not a love and light do no harm type, cause that's not possible that's not the world we live in, someone is always going to get hurt, but I prefer to be a sniper over a bomber, I try always to do the least harm, and putting baneful shit in a volatile area is not the least harm,

Most people likely don't get just how dangerous gas stations are so let me explain, and by dangerous I'm not only talking robberys,

People are awful at gas stations, their pissed off, and they are never paying attention to what their doing,

When COVID first started it became clear to my ma and her manager that the higher ups weren't going to put screens across the registers the way they did in the main store for those cashiers, so they asked for permission and then rigged up one themselves, and people went ballistic over it, 'whats that here for?!' they'd demand, and as soon as the word COVID left ma and here coworkers lips the person would spit on the covering and slam out the door yelling about how they hoped the workers there would catch COVID,

A man not long ago demanded ma give him free gas and she was like I literally cannot do that he started coming over the register at her til another costumer (big guy) yelled at him to knock it the fuck off, ma worried for weeks that he'd come back with a gun,

Or as she worries every day that someone will be pissed enough to follow her home,

Speaking of guns there was the time a shit ton of cops surrounded a murder suspect right on the street in front of her station and she hit the deck as they all took aim at this guy,

Or

there was that time in her old gas station job where two guys got into a knife fight inside the station and she had to run out the side door,

The coworker who got hit by a truck (she lived and is mostly ok, last ma heard)

The amount of people who run over cones sectioning off a down pump then come running in to scream about the pump not working,

All the people who pull out with the pump still attached to their car

Ect.

Gas stations are highly volatile spaces putting baneful magic scraps into that is in my opinion asking to kill someone,

Now onto the more mundane side,

Do you know who collects that trash from the trash cans, the cashiers themselves, and at least where my ma works they don't have gloves, they have to pull those bags out bare handed and trag them to the nearby dumpster,

Often ma has to push bulging trash down into the bag, or because people empty their whole car into these trash cans, beer bottles, full bottles of water, full Starbucks coffees, she often has to pull some of that trash into another bag because she can't lift it out because the bags are too heavy, (ma's almost 70 btw)

If I put something into a bag then put it in there that bag WILL get ripped open and then people like ma WILL be touching it with their bare hands, meaning any poisonous to the touch herbs? congrats you just poisoned someone, glass shards/ mirror fragments? just shredded someone's hands, a poppet with needles in it? now there in a persons hand,

When I brought this to ma's attention she gasped and told me lots of kids tend to squish the top of the trash down when it's bulging up so they can shove their trash on top, that lots of people do,

so throwing anything poisonous or slicey in the trash is very fucking likly to hurt someone.

I can't tell y'all what to do, but maybe think twice on what you're doing, just like how people have brought up don't put salt on the ground because you're killing the environment, I'm speaking up for gas station workers who, trust me, do not want to be there,

[unbossed]

Sorry about the self-reblog barrage earlier. I’m kinda brain-fogged and got stuck in a pattern. I finally tested positive for covid and it hit pretty hard earlier. It’s kinda coming and going and I’m in a mostly lucid state right now.

My de facto mother-in-law is the type who’d hide a zombie bite and she’s so determined for us to move back down near her that she showed up at our next place on Wednesday to help us unload some things we took down that day. She was acting strangely and claimed that she had to get home quickly because she’d supposedly eaten some bad walnuts and her stomach was bothering her. On phone calls between then and yesterday she mentioned that she “hadn’t been feeling well.”

@v8pontiacgirl had pretty bad symptoms start early yesterday so she tested herself and confirmed with a second and both were positive. Her mom was the only person we’ve been in close-ish contact with in almost 2 weeks so she was the only likely vector. She’s both the “nothing bad happens to people who are right with the Lord” and “everything works out for the best eventually” type so she was in severe denial that it was covid. My partner finally convinced her to test herself and she kept claiming that she was fine but that “something went wrong” with multiple tests. It turns out, as she finally admitted this evening, that the something wrong was that she kept getting positive results.

After several hours of multiple phone conversations today she also finally admitted that she had been sick enough on Wednesday that she’d had to force herself to come meet up with us, for all of 15 or 20 minutes. She has bad knees that make it difficult for her to carry anything of significance so her presence to help unload was absolutely pointless. “I just wanted to see you so badly,” she told my partner, despite the fact that we were scheduled, with a truck reserved even, to move fucking yesterday. This is the same woman who wouldn’t take her own daughter to the doctor for things like ear infections as a child because it was so expensive, so none of this but the audacity is particularly surprising.

We had planned for her and her husband to come up yesterday to help, with him driving the U-Haul to the new place, me driving our farm truck, my partner driving her dad’s truck (both of us hauling our ducks and chickens), and her mom following in my partner’s car. As late as yesterday morning she was still planning to do that but mentioned that she would need to take breaks on the drive back because she’s “been pretty tired lately.”

When my partner tested positive on Saturday morning this woman kept trying to convince her that the tests were wrong and that we should stick to the plan. She even expressed disappointment that we’d cancelled the truck. The real shit of it is that she fucking knows that her daughter has multiple chronic health conditions and is at increased risk and that she finally admitted to being virtually bed-ridden even before Wednesday. She “just couldn’t wait until [v8pontiacgirl is] close enough for me to show up unannounced at any time of day to visit again.”

She’s never been the type to take others’ medical and health concerns seriously and that could very possibly kill someone. But, you know, if she does it will just be “according to God’s plan.” FFS these people are a threat.

[dimadimoo]

Well, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. Hijueputa. Goddamn. Whooof. Yesterday was a total shitshow. Like, I got fucked so hard, bro.. right in the ass. First off, I thought my day was going to be chill, right, but surprise, surprise, I got bitched out by a service worker. At first, I was like, okay, maybe she’s just having a bad day or something, so I shrugged it off. But damn, missy was straight up unprofessional as hell! Complaining to the customer?? Complaining to the people paying you for your shitty service like a little fucking bitch?? Like bro, I get it if my request was tricky or something, but it wasn’t. It was super simple. All the other workers do that shit just fine, but you decided to whine over a basic job? Dude, just quit your job!

And here’s the best part… he knew about this blog. He fucking read some of my posts. (worst case, he probably read everything…) I’m so fucking stupid!! Okay, so here’s how it went down: I casually asked him about his Tumblr account, yeah, and I wanted to connect with him more, I mean, we already follow each other on Instagram and he knows my email, so Tumblr felt like the next step. But guess what? I totally forgot I was still logged into this account, yeah this one, and I accidentally followed his Tumblr from here. Yeah… chat, we’re fucked. I thought I was logged into my alt but nope… Then he goes “Is this your journal blog?” Bro, my heart jumped into my throat and then sank into my gut, like I was on that rollercoaster in Vegas. I was shocked. He admitted reading the newer posts, but honestly, I kinda doubt he stopped there…

I’m sitting there, feeling like satan just dick fucked me in the mouth. I tried explaining it wasn’t necessarily a hate post, just me venting about random shit. But then he’s like “Oh, so it’s a hate post about me?” BRO, WHAT? NO. Why the fuck would I… oh my god.. I wanted to crawl into a hole. Shit got worse from there. I tried to explain, told him I don’t hate him. Like, he’s been one of the best parts of my life, and him thinking I hated him? That really hurt and I was so offended. So I was like “Fuck it.” I sent him screenshots of the posts where I ranted about him just to prove it. This blog is my journal, where I process my feelings in the moment. Situations change, feelings change. But damn, he really hit a nerve accusing me of hating him… After that, I basically slammed the door on him and tried to sleep it off. Didn’t work... I barely slept, my chest and stomach hurt all night. I was that bothered. I mean, someone found out about my journal and I was being accused for something that is not true! Of course, I’m bothered! I hated that I was so upset at him. I didn’t want to but it hurt…

Then this morning, he messaged me. Totally unexpected. I didn’t reply right away because seeing that notification hit me like a truck.. my anxiety shot through the roof… I felt like I needed a bullet shoot to my head just to get rid of the unease. So I took a few hours to breathe, centered myself and internalized this situation, that made it even worse… and when I finally responded, he apologized. Said he went too far and shouldn’t have let his fears take over. I get it, and I’m glad he said that. I don’t want to ruin our relationship, I’d hate that, but I also told him straight up that I was hurt by the accusation... I’m proud of myself for standing up and being real with him. It took courage for me. I used to be such a people pleaser, but not this time. I owned my shit, apologized for the dumbass mistake I made, but didn’t give him a fake, people pleasing apology. I was real. And that’s huge for me…

He said he’s a pessimist at heart, which is sad, and I get it. But man, I hate being accused of something I didn’t do and not being believed. He wants to move on and get back to how we were, you know gushing over guys and talking about tf stuff… I told him we could, but it’s gonna take me some time to feel normal again. It’s still awkward, you know? Like, I keep thinking about the impression I left on him from my posts, and it’s giving me so much anxiety.I told him “Yeah, let’s go back to normal” but also, I need time. I’m still a little bothered. I’m glad he still sees me the same, though… that makes me feel a little better.

Part of me hates this whole situation and wishes it never happened. But lowkey, I’m proud of myself for how I handled it. I stood up for myself and was honest with my feelings, which took a lot of courage for me, given my people-pleaser tendencies. I learned a lot from this, and I owned up to my mistake. I should’ve been more mindful and less careless. Things are mostly back to normal between us, kinda… He even sent me a short story. I’ll read it later when I’m in a better mood. I don’t want to give a fake reaction, and I know he’d hate that.

Oh, and when he first found out about this blog? I immediately changed the name and blocked him. But the milk’s already spilled, and what’s done is done. He probably already read everything, so there’s no point in blocking him or making a new blog, right? And I changed the name back to previous one, cause I really like it. Whatever, man.

But yeah… yesterday was the worst fucking day of my life. And it’s only been two weeks since I turned 28…

[lxngbottom]

Cramps. | N.L. (+ D.T & S.F.)

in which the reader is having a really bad period, so her three best friends come and check up on her.

warnings: pain, periods, bleeding, swearing, we know how it is.

i’m on my period rn, & these three boys are my fav characters so this is mostly to comfort me (and idk if you guys can even relate, but my periods get THIS bad) (edit: this was NOT supposed to be this long but oh well i love these three)

gryffindor reader! (but anyone can read obv)

—

somehow, you had managed to make it through the previous school day. but, the whole time your stomach felt like it was completely turning on you, and with every step you took, the bleeding was so heavy. you couldn’t even remember the last time you went through so many pads and tampons in one day.

on top of that, you were an absolute emotional wreck. and, that became apparent to neville when seamus laughed over tripping over your shoe lace, and you looked up at your three best friends with tears in your eyes.

“merlin, y/n! i was only messing with you! what’s wrong?” seamus furrowed his eyebrows at you, only for you to bend down and groan in pain as you attempted to tie your loose shoe laces.

“i can’t do it!” you whined, a tear finally escaping your tired eyes. you stood up, and sniffled, not noticing the genuine concerned looks plastered across the three boys’s faces.

and then, if things couldn’t get any worse, you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to meet a terrified looking ron and harry, staring down at your legs,

“y-y-y/n... blood! t-t-there’s blood running down your legs!”

you looked down, and sure enough, there was a bunch of it. you automatically began to cry, and the sobbing only got worse as you realized that this was happening in front of not one, not two, but five boys.

“nev—neville... p-please give me your jacket...” you choked out, rushing as the blood seeped between your thighs. he did so quickly, tossing it to you, and your tied it around your waist before running into the nearest bathroom.

“why would you point that out?” dean asked ron, eyeing him,

“what?! would it be better for her to stay like that the rest of the day?” the ginger snapped back, still not putting two and two together. ron wasn’t exactly wrong, but his execution was awful.

the boys sighed, deciding that maybe waiting outside the bathroom would do you some good. but, unfortunately, as 15 minutes passed, you never came out.

“m-m-maybe someone should go and get hermione. or lavendar. or one of the parvati twins?” neville suggested, scratching the back of his neck. seamus shrugged, honestly clueless on how to handle the whole situation.

luckily, a saving grace skipped by, grabbing the attention of all of the boys,

“ginny!” ron called out, and she stopped in her tracks, “thank merlin you’re here!”

the look on her face was questionable as harry, ron, neville, dean, and seamus all stared at her.

“w-what?”

dean spoke up first, more than concerned, “y/n went in there. she—she had—blood running down her legs. and, she started crying...”

that’s all it took for ginny to nod her head, “okay. you guys go ahead. i’ll take care of her!”

they did so reluctantly, more so your three best friends. as ron and harry wanted to be away from the whole scenario as soon as possible.

and, that was the last they heard from you yesterday. today, they waited for you to come down from the girl’s dorm, but you never came.

they waited for you in the great hall, but again, you never came.

little did they know, you were curled up in a ball on your bed, sobbing from the excruciating pain that filled your whole body. this cycle was hitting you like a truck, and you’d wished that somehow you had been more prepared for it.

hermione had left you reluctantly that morning, never seeing a fellow girl having such a bad period before. you had cried all night, and you and her both had barely gotten any sleep. so that’s why when neville saw hermione drifting off to sleep during a shared class, he was absolutely baffled.

as that same class ended, the three boys caught up with hermione,

“hey, granger! where’s y/n?” seamus asked, and she rubbed her eyes.

“she—um—“ a yawn interrupted her response, “she’s in our dorm. she doesn’t feel well.”

neville’s mouth went agape, and he finally put two and two together.

“i wouldn’t go and see her, though. you guys embarrassed her yesterday. she told me all about ronald, and ginny, and seamus. she’s really upset, and... she’s just in a lot of pain. so, just let her be for a while.”

and with that, she left the three boys. they gave each other weird looks, mentally questioning each other.

you on the other hand at this time, were crying as you changed out your bed sheets for the second time that day. it wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable experience to have to explain to a house elf why you needed a bunch of new clean sheets.

dinner soon came, and even then, the boys expected to see you sitting with them, eating and laughing. but, you still hadn’t left that dorm.

so, neville packed some extra food, and the three made a journey to gryffindor tower, just to see if they could break the rules to make sure you weren’t dying. (of course, all three of them were convinced that you were on your death bed.)

they slipped past the prefect, climbing up the stairs to your dorm.

dean was just about to knock when they all heard your voice,

“stop, hermione! please! i don’t care that i missed my classes! i’ve been puking all day, bled on my bed, almost shit my pants four times, so, i really don’t care about snape and what he said about me! piss off!”

seamus’s lips curled, and the sound he let out could only be described as pure disgust. but, neville nudged him,

“she can’t help it. don’t be like that...” he whispered, still not sure if you were alright with visitors at the moment.

“well, i’m sorry! but, dean, neville, and seamus are all worried about you! they—“

that’s when they heard a blood curdling scream, and it sounded exactly like you. it made them jump,

“I WANT TO KILL MYSELF! FUCK!”

“don’t say that! it’s only for a few days, y/n! i told you i would help you with anything you needed!”

“then you can start by fucking off! go away!”

the boys looked at each other,

“maybe—“

“yeah—“

“later.”

they all mutually agreed, and ran down the stairs before hermione had the chance to see them.

they settled in the common room, deciding to do their homework until they knew it was a safe call to go and see you. they all worried about you tremendously, as they had never heard you talk to a fellow friend like that. you simple weren’t that type of person in their eyes. you had always been patient with people, so it was a wonder to them how you loved them so much.

they spotted ginny, walking up to the girl’s dormitories with a glass of ice cream in hand. they naturally assumed it was for you. and truth be told, when ginny entered with a sweet smile on her face, holding the cold treat, you realized you had never been more happy to see a weasley before.

as pathetic as it sounded, you cried to ginny while eating the chocolate ice cream. you sobbed to her about all the events of that day, and the day before. your crush on neville and how you believed he didn’t feel the same, the way that seamus chewed too loudly, and how hermione was too uptight sometimes. she simply listened, knowing that’s all she could really do.

finally, the three boys saw ginny coming down the the glass now empty, and they ran up to her,

“is she okay?”

“what’s happening?”

“can we go and see her?”

she chuckled and shook her head them, “she’s fine, you guys. calm down. i’m not so sure if she’ll want to see you guys, but you guys can sure try.”

they all three looked at each other, slightly terrified.

but, they sucked it up and made their way up again. of course, seamus couldn’t hold back from making a snide comment,

“i swear, if i get a book thrown at my head and end up in the hospital wing with a concussion, i’m blanking it on neville.”

“why me?!” neville scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air,

“because! you fancy her and are the most worried about her! she’s just on her period! is it really that big of a deal?”

before neville could answer, dean cut in, “yes, seamus. it is a big deal. maybe not to us, but to her it is. try bleeding out of your dick for a week while your inside are ripping apart!”

if you would’ve been present, you definitely wouldn’t hugged dean for that one.

they finally arrived, and they argued for a moment over who would be the once to knock on the door. it felt like they were stepping into a death trap. finally, neville agreed to do it.

he did so gently,

“what?” you asked, “who is it?”

dean and seamus eyed each other, definitely panicking.

“erm—it’s... us...”

you groaned, and looked down at your state. you were only in your bra and underwear, trash bucket in your lap, nausea getting the best of you... again.

but, you figured seeing your three best friends would bring you some comfort. this wasn’t their fault, and you didn’t want to take it out on them anymore.

“um... you can come in, but warning! i’m—“

before you could warn them, the door flew open,

“naked...” you breathed out, looking down at the trash can.

they all went wide eyed, and neville covered dean and seamus’s eyes with his hands, and closed his own.

“close the door, you gits!”

neville did so with his foot, still covering everyone’s eyes. you let out a small chuckle at the fact, and shook your head.

“you guys can look, you know. you act like we haven’t been best friends since first year.”

“b-b-but you’re—naked!” dean responded, through neville still keeping his own hand over the boy’s face.

you pursed your lips as you felt vomit climbing it’s way up your throat, “who—“

that’s when they heard it. the violent sound of puking. neville thanked merlin that his eyes were closed, because he probably would’ve puked too.

“who cares?” you breathed out, wiping the slobber from your chin. that’s when seamus took neville’s hand away from his eyes, and realized how you looked.

you looked unrecognizable almost. you looked exhausted, pale, and like you had just been hit by twenty cars at one time. your eyes were all puffy and red from crying, and your hair was definitely not put together like it usually was. makeup was smeared all down your face, makeup from the day before that you simply didn’t have the motivation to get up and wash off. but, seamus couldn’t help but notice your bra and underwear.

“you—“ he chuckled, “you have teddy bears on your undergarments, y/n?”

you clenched your jaw, and tightened your grasp around the trash can, narrowing your eyes at him. his eyes widened,

“kidding! i was only kidding! they suit you well!”

finally, dean shoved neville’s hand off as well, and neville opened his eyes back up reluctantly. neville and dean took in your state, much less of a laughing matter to them, as they were more of the calm friends.

“merlin, y/n... are you alright?” neville asked, approaching you slowly. you shook your head,

“i’m dying...”

the three boys gasped, and you looked at them funny, “i’m kidding... but i feel like i might...”

that settled their nerves a bit, the theory of you dying slowly fading away. you spit in the trash can, and set it back down on the floor. of course, seamus being the curious cat he is, looked in the trash can.

“don’t look at my vomit, finnigan! don’t you have any manners?”

he jumped back, and nodded his head.

“what are you guys doing here, anyway?” you asked, laying down fully on the bed, stomach and legs exposed.

“well—we know—you—you sorta—“

neville sighed at dean’s awkwardness about the whole situation, “we know you’re on your period. and, we know that you’re in a lot of pain. and, we just wanted to come and check up on you.” he glanced at the other two boys, “right?”

“yeah, definitely!”

“totally!”

you giggled at seamus and dean, “oh, what gentlemen. how could i ever thank you?”

seamus couldn’t hold it in. the comment just slipped from his lips,

“well, seeing you in your bra and underwear is thanks enough in my book!” he joked, nudging dean.

surprisingly, the only one who laughed beside seamus... was you. this surprised the boys, as you were sure that would earn seamus that book to his temple, or at least a smack to the face. but, it didn’t.

“see? i told you guys she’s fine! she’s laughing like she always does!”

neville seemed to look over at you for reassurance, just to make sure that seamus hadn’t crossed a boundary with one of his crude jokes. it was something that seamus had done quite a few times, without even realizing it, but it was simply because he didn’t know how to put a filter on. you knew at the end of the day that seamus wasn’t trying to disrespect you. plus, it was something you had go get used to, being one of his best friends and all.

at one point, the boys had eased into the floor, getting things for you if you needed it. seamus even asked why exactly girls even got periods, and you explained it to him in full detail.

“so... like—the inside of your uterus is actually tearing? i thought dean was joking about that!”

you shook your head, “unfortunately, it’s not a joke, finnigan. it’s very real...”

“well, is it this bad for all girls?”

“no, actually. some girls only bleed for a couple of days, and it’s very light. they can go without cramps, puking... lucky bitches!”

that’s when the boys fell silent, even seamus himself. until he raised an eyebrow,

“is it bad that i’m kinda curious? you know—to see how it feels to... bleed... down—there...”

dean furrowed his eyebrows, but neville nodded his head in agreement.

“well, boys... i can’t make you bleed out your dick for seven days straight... but, i can punch you guys in the stomach with full force and show you how cramps feel!”

collectively, they all disagreed, which caused you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“but—it can’t be that bad, right? i mean, everyone can get a stomach ache...” dean questioned, but unsure of what he had just said.

“let me put it to you like this, thomas. imagine the weasley twins sneaking a muggle laxative into your morning pumpkin juice...” you started, “but that stomach pain for a whole week.”

dean put his head down, finally understanding. no wonder you had talked about almost shitting your pants.

that’s when the door swung open, revealing a surprised hermione,

“y/n! where are your clothes?! boys are in here! and plus, they’re not even supposed to be in here, anyway!” she snapped, immediately storming over to your closet, and pulling out a random shirt, throwing it at you.

“but, it’s too hot! and, any tightness hurts!”

“i don’t care! i couldn’t imagine sitting around with ronald and harry with my—lady parts hanging out!”

you chuckled at her hidden shaming, quite used to it by now. “oh, whatever, granger! it’s the same difference as a bathing suit! lighten up!”

seamus and dean snickered at the look on her face, and the way she stormed out.

“she’s right, y/n. not about—you know, we don’t care... but, just—seamus will be talking about it for the rest of his natural life if you keep your clothes off any longer.” neville stated, standing up and taking his sweater off. he passed it to you, making sure not to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable.

you smiled at the kind gesture. sure, it was a sweater, and you probably should choose the lighter t-shirt that hermione had snagged out for you. but, it was neville’s sweater, so, how could you refuse?

you slipped it on over your head, and pulled your hair through the hole. it was quite comfortable, and you were just the right amount of warm and cool. so, it worked out in the end. “thank you, longbottom. that was sweet.”

his face turned red at the small grin etched upon your face, but he shook it off and sat back down on the floor.

you all began talking again, not even noticing when seamus had gotten bored and ancy, and started snooping in your drawers. but, his eyes went wide at the sight of something in your drawer. he picked it up, and stared at it for a moment.

“uh... y/n...” he started, voice a bit shaky, “what’s this?”

he held it up, and you, dean, and neville all looked over.

“that’s a tampon, finnigan. i use it when i’m on my period so the blood doesn’t leak out.”

he took a beat of silence as he connected the dots, and his eyes seemed to widen even more,

“and... you have to put this where exactly?”

[1-800-sope]

Alphabet boy (m) Part 2.

Pairing: Namjoon X reader

Rating: M

Genre: Tiny bit of yandere lots of angst

Warnings: Aggressive Namjoon, Manipulative Namjoon, Toxic relationship, some tiny slight abuse. !Namjoon is a jerk!

Summary: He was good at  everything and wasn’t afraid to remind you of it again.

BTS Masterlist

BTS Melaine Martinez series

Part 1.

it was a new year, new times with new beginnings. to say you were excited for college would be an understatement. you successfully got into the best university out there, but you didn’t get into it alone Namjoon was by your side through the begging and to now.

“Hey, honey.” Namjoon pulled the seat next to you out, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Hi.” You whispered back eyes lighting up at the sight of your boyfriend.

Namjoon smiled at you before pulling out his textbooks.

Honestly, a part of you still couldn’t believe that you were dating Namjoon The Kim Namjoon, your arch nemeses, your childhood best friend/enemy. Nobody would have seen this coming.

But Namjoon did, he was so confident that you would say yes when he asked you out on a date and he had every right to be because you said yes, after mentally freaking out for a good two weeks.

But Jin’s wise words led you to your final decision “You know what they say about hate relationships, it turns into passionate love. Go get that man sis.”  and now here you are seven months strong with Kim Namjoon.

The benefits of being his girlfriend were much better than being his enemy. He is a sweetheart to you, so kind that you thought he was mentally sick and almost backed out of the relationship. He also spoils you so much, whatever you want? he gets it for you, oh so your cold and lonely at night? He’s up and on his way to cuddle you, somebody said something not so nice about your outfit? On his way to get them kicked out of the school.

You're Namjoon’s most prized possession, You're his little doll and he will do anything and everything to keep you happy.

but half of you should have known that the past is still there.. that his old ways are still there, his need to remind you that he’s better, smarter, perfect, was still there lying beneath the surface just waiting to show up again.

and sadly it did.

”You know y/n I thought you left your idiotic childish ways back in high school, don’t you think it’s time to grow the fuck up now?” His words hit you like a truck making you stop in your tracks.

today wasn’t a good day, it was a bad day, a very very very bad day for you, and all you wanted all you needed was your loving boyfriend to be with you. he didn’t have to hold you, or stick to you like glue, just being in the same room would be enough for you but that was too much for him.

“Namjoon I just want to spend time with you...why are you being like this?” You were honestly confused everything was fine this morning it was all soft and pretty, you guys went on your every morning coffee date at the cafe before school started, then you walked to school while holding hands kissing each other goodbye when classes started. later you two met up for your library date during break.

has the honeymoon faves ended?

“Because you are so annoying and pathetic and you want attention twenty-four seven y/n!” Namjoon was annoyed he was frustrated about something and he snapped when you walked in the room after he purposely denied all of your calls, he thought you would take the hint and leave him alone for a bit, but you didn’t so now he’s doing the only thing he can do. he’s letting all his anger and frustration out on you.

Namjoon stared at you as your face started to heat up and the tears came to the surface, you thought he would realize what he said was wrong what he was doing was wrong but no he shot more bullets.

“You honestly can’t function without me isn’t that right doll?” He smirked walking towards you as you took a step back avoiding eye contact.

“It’s okay doll, It’s okay that you can’t do anything without me, that you depend on me, that without me you would be absolutely nothing. But right now since I’m being nice let me help you make a wise decision, a very smart one and you being my good girl will listen. alright?”

He brought his hand out patting your head ignoring your flinch.

“Right now you are going to turn back around, leave this room and leave me the fuck alone.” Namjoon grabbed the back of your head yanking your hair making you look up at him in his eyes.

you cried.

This wasn’t your Namjoon, this wasn’t your sweet boyfriend.

this was the monster you hated.

“Well? What are you waiting for? go.” he pushed you forward towards the door making you lose your step but you caught yourself and without looking back you left letting the door slam right behind you.

“Apples aren't an always appropriate apologies”

You came back, you didn’t want to but you had to this was your home too, you were now regretting getting a shared apartment with him.

 when you arrived back home it was late, Namjoon was fast asleep on the couch he was waiting for you but fell asleep while doing it all his worrying drained him out.

but you weren’t so easy to forgive someone you never were and Namjoon knew that

that’s why he’s currently crying in front of the guest room door, the room you haven’t left ever since your return.

“Baby, I’m so so so sorry.” Namjoon choked on his tears his hand touching the door an apple in the other.

“I know you are upset with me and you have every right to be, you do. Shit even I’m upset with myself. What I said was wrong what I did was wrong and my anger was no excuse to act that way towards you.”

During his little speech, you shed some tears with the memories of yesterday rushing back to you.

“You are angry with me and that’s okay but please accept this apple. You have to eat y/n.”

-

“Butterscotch and bubblegum drops are bittersweet to me”

It’s been three days, three days and you still haven’t accepted Namjoon’s apology but you did go back to your shared room and went back to having breakfast lunch, and diner with him, even though you didn’t let him touch you and you only responded with humms and the nod of your head it was still progress

“Here, drink this.” Namjoon handed you the coffee cup. you two were at your lovely cafe on a Monday morning right before classes. You gave a smile as you grabbed your cub and started making your way out of the cafe and towards the school’s building that was down the street.

As Namjoon talked about one of his classes that he was in you took a sip of your coffee

Butterscotch

“And I said that he can’t put those two together because they wouldn’t contrast.” Namjoon chuckled as he grabbed your hand swinging it back and forth a smile on his face looking over at you. “You okay doll?” He asked smile slowly fading. You quickly shook your head a fake smile on your face to ease his worry

you honestly didn’t have time for an upset Namjoon on your hands

you were just so tired.

his smile recovered and he kissed your cheek “good.”

“Well, we are here now, our library date at our usual table at three pm?” Namjoon asked and you nodded. “Good. oh and I picked up some chapstick for you, I know how much you love the cute little flavored ones.”

Namjoon digging in his pocket pulling out a chapstick and it made you forget about the Butterscotch coffee as he placed it in your hand. “Thank you Namjoon.” You smiled not looking down at the Chapstick but up at him.

“No problem, get inside class is about to start.”

A smile was on your face as you walked inside finally taking a look at the chapstick in your hands

you halted in your steps and your smile dropped

Bubblegum.

-

“You call me a child while you keep counting all your coins”

“Honestly y/n can you just STOP!” Namjoon snapped cutting you off mid-question. 

“Stop? stop what Namjoon? What am I doing?” You were so confused his mood did a whole 360 shocking you.

“You are being annoying.” he spoke rubbing his hand on his face expressing his tiredness looking at you with annoyed eyes.

“Annoying? how am I being annoying?” You stood there in front of him holding eye contact with your arms crossed.

Namjoon looked at you like you were stupid

“Really? we’re gonna play that game now are we? The “Let’s ask stupid questions” game?” You took a step back thinking about how this all took a turn for the worse.

You were just sitting in the living room reading your book as Namjoon came out of the bathroom dressed up nicely ready to leave. you asked him where he was going...he ignored you so you asked again and again and again

until he snapped.

“I was no-” He cut you off.

“Yes you were y/n you were being annoying!”

“I was asking a simple question maybe if you didn’t ignore me-”

“God! Why does it matter where I am going huh! Why is it any of your business y/n!”

“Because I’m your fucking girlfriend Kim Namjoon!”

The room went silent

Namjoon laughed

he laughed

“No honey, you are not my girlfriend you are a child because that’s what you are acting like right now.” He said amused with this whole situation while you were now the annoyed one

“I am NOT a child Namjoon!” You cried at your breaking point. It was pathetic really how easily you cried. But you couldn’t help it.

Namjoon stopped he took a deep breath in as he saw your tears. He walked over to you gently placing both of his hands on either side of your face wiping your tears.

“Are you sure about that y/n? because you are crying like one right now.” He chuckled and you were shocked into silence. “Ok, how about this y/n I’m gonna go and you stay home and be a good doll for me? Let’s end this stupid useless conversation.”

“no.”

“No?” Namjoon repeated raising his eyebrow.

You took a step back shaking your head as Namjoon dropped his hands to his side annoyed that you won’t let this end.

“No namjoon I don’t have to listen to anything you say, I am my own person I am not dumb, I am not stupid, And if i don’t want to let shit slide and get over it I won’t.” 

“Grate amazing you are finally speaking up for yourself do that at a different time.” He rolled his eyes making you more annoyed more fed up. “Namjoon it seems like you don’t care about my feelings like you never ever cared at all.” You threw your hands up moving away from him now he was the one that was following you around.

“What do you mean I never cared? That’s all I ever did through this whole relationship, I cared for, I looked after you, I helped you. You are just too much of a stupid spoiled brat see that shit.”

“Shut up Namjoon, god can you stop playing the victim card for once.” You snapped back turning on your heels.

“Your seriously acting up after everything i did for you everything I’ve been doing for you? Things your own daddy wouldn’t do for you?”

“But you're not my daddy and I'm not your dolly, I don’t have to listen shit you say anymore and I don’t need you.”

it was silent

dead silent

besides your heavy breathing along with Namjoons

“oh...is that so?” he asked glaring at you.

“Yes...it is so.” You responded back with the same energy.

“Than I guess you should leave?” He crossed his arms staring at you.

“I guess I will.” You chuckled looking away from him.

and that’s how it ended, the passionate love you both had for each other turned back into hate, more hate there than there was before.

Tag List: @minshookie29 @casualminiaturetimemachine @angryperfectionpersona @jinssexytoe @omgsuperstarg @mwitsmejk @earthtoness

A/n: I know that this was so quick to publish but i got so excited with how good part one turned out to be so I couldn’t help myself to write up part two and quickly publish it. I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED ITTT!!! new readers let me know if you want to be apart of the Melaine Martinez tag list series

[bibbawrites]

Family Ties - Charlie Gillespie x Reader (16+)

Request: Can you please do one where either Charlie is meeting your family or you’re meeting his and he keeps trying to be touchy/wanting to have sex but you/him don’t want to get caught xx

Word Count: 1721 words 

Summary: your annual family trip gets a little bit more hands on when your boyfriend Charlie and his family join you

Warnings: heavy makeout, touching, a little bit of grinding, swearing, mentioned and implied sex 

A/N: sorry if this editing is shit my brain is not working lol  hopefully y’all like this one, ive been debating on rewriting it for what feels like years but fuck it i dont have that motivation lol  also idk if theres beaches in canada like what we have here in aus but if there isnt oh well in this fictional version of canada they have aussie beaches  anyways, enjoy! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes​​ @littlemissaddict​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​​ @headheartbellarke​​ @lovesanimals​​ @bartok-the-magnificent​​ @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik @kaitieskidmore1 @katrina765​​ @fandomxreaders​​​ @ifilwtmfc

It had all started when you had jokingly suggested that you should invite your boyfriend Charlie and his family along on your annual family trip to the beach. Your mother had agreed, and before you knew it she was on the phone to Charlie’s mother working the whole plan out. 

Your family lives in Quebec, and Charlie’s in Dieppe, so your mum’s quickly decided that your family would drive to his house, and then the two families would continue the rest of the way together.

So that’s how you ended up in your dad’s old truck, pulling into the driveway of the Gillespie house at 6am in the morning after almost 8 hours of driving.

You jumped out quickly, wanting to get away from your brother’s annoying rap music and your sister’s constant whining about being bored as quickly as you could. The front door of Charlie’s house swung open and within a few seconds you were being pulled into the arms of your boyfriend, inhaling his familiar scent.

“God I missed you.” He murmured into your shoulder and you grinned.

“I missed you more handsome.” You replied, exchanging a soft kiss. 

Charlie’s family joined him outside and after a few quick introductions, you were on your way to the beach, this time tucked away in the passenger’s seat of Charlie’s car. 

- 

Once you arrived your families spent the day at the beach, and Charlie couldn’t keep his hands off of you. By the time you finally headed off to bed you were certain that every other person in the house was sick of his touchy behaviour. 

You made yourself comfortable on the bed, watching Charlie as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“I don’t think your dad likes me that much.” He said with a giggle, flopping down onto the bed. You rolled over to look at him.

“He’d like you a lot more if you stopped looking at me and touching me like you want to fuck me at every free moment you have.” You stated, and a light blush appeared on Charlie’s cheeks.

“You think he noticed that?” He asked, pressing his nose against yours.

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t. You haven’t been subtle at all. We’ve only been here for the day and you’ve tried to jump me three times and that’s not even counting the shower sex.” He grinned cheekily at your words.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so hot.” He whined, and you rolled your eyes.

“But we’re on a holiday with both of our families. You gotta tone down the horny.” You said. He sighed dramatically.

“Fine, I’ll try to be better tomorrow. But for now, we’re all alone... and it’s our first night...” He trailed off, pouting, his eyes dark with lust. You nodded once and that was all the consent he needed, crashing his lips against yours and making quick work of climbing on top of you and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

You moaned, your fingers scraping down his back as he grinded his hips into yours. 

“Fuck.” You mumbled against his lips, your hands finding a place in his hair. You tugged lightly on his hair causing him to moan into your mouth. 

“Hey Y/N?” Your mum’s voice called. 

“Shit.” You exclaimed, pushing Charlie off you. Not expecting the reaction, he jumped slightly, falling off the edge of the bed with a thud. 

You giggled as your mum opened the door, frowning as she took in the sight. 

“Charlie, why are you on the floor?” She questioned. You laughed harder. 

“Fell.” He replied simply, rolling over to stand up, climbing back onto the bed. 

“What’s up Mum?” You asked, hoping that you didn’t look like you had been making out with your boyfriend only moments ago. 

“Did you remember to grab the bag of board games? We were going to play Monopoly.” She said, leaning against the door. You nodded. 

“I put it in the little den room.” You told her and she smiled. 

“Thanks Hon, you two are welcome to join us if you’d like.” She invited. Charlie shook his head. 

“We’re good thanks Mrs Y/L/N. My mum is scary good at Monopoly so I’d rather not lose to her again.” He grinned and your mum returned the smile. 

“Well the offer is there if you want it.” She said, before leaving the room. You let out a sigh of relief. 

“That was a close one.” You mumbled. Charlie nodded, leaning in to kiss you again. You pulled back, giving him an incredulous look. 

“Really? You’re still horny after being interrupted by my mum and monopoly?” You asked. Charlie pouted. 

“A bit.” He admitted. You rolled your eyes at him, pushing him away. He whined but gave in, curling up next to you instead. 

“Tomorrow night.” You said, flicking the tv on. Charlie snuggled his face into your upper back. 

“You promise?” He mumbled against your skin. You nodded. 

“I promise. But only if you’re good during the day.” You bargained. He thought for a moment before humming in agreement. 

“Deal.”

- 

“This is not being good.” You whispered to Charlie as his hand crawled up your thigh at lunch the next day. 

It was tradition for your family to get lunch at your favourite restaurant on the second day, and you had barely been there twenty minutes when Charlie started to get fidgety. 

“I’m not doing anything.” He lied, giving you an innocent smile. 

“Bullshit.” You muttered in reply, and Charlie shook his head, making a disapproving sound. 

“Language.” He faked disappointment. 

“Fuck you.” You rolled your eyes. He gave you a flirty smile. 

“Oh I wish you would.” He teased, his voice deepening slightly. 

“Charles.” You warned, and he sighed, sitting back up again, his hand returning to your knee. 

“Remember our deal?” You said quietly, and he nodded. 

“How could I forget, I’m so sexually frustrated I might explode.” He admitted. You stared at him in disbelief.  

“We literally had sex yesterday evening.” You whispered, your voice hushed. Charlie nodded, eyes wide. 

“Exactly! It’s almost been a whole 24 hours.” He sighed. 

“A whole 24 hours since what?” Meghan questioned, and you choked on a mouthful of fish, grabbing your glass of Coke quickly to wash it down. 

“None of your business.” Charlie retorted. “Stop eavesdropping.” 

“Don’t have private conversations around other people then.” Meghan bit back, but dropped the conversation anyway. Charlie gave you a relieved look. 

“That was close.” You muttered. 

“You’re telling me. Almost enough to get rid of the semi in my pants.” He winked and you hit his arm.

“Charles. Stop it.” You reprimanded. He grinned cheekily. 

“You love me.” He sung, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

“I’m reconsidering.” 

- 

“So what were you and Charlie discussing at lunch that was so private?” Meghan questioned, once you, her and your sister Isabella were alone sunbathing later that afternoon. You cringed slightly. 

“You don’t want to know.” You replied. 

“Oh god was it a sex thing?” Isabella gasped, and Meghan’s eyes widened in fear. You blushed. 

“I told you that you didn’t want to know.” You said simply, and they both squealed in disgust. 

“Do mum and dad know that you’re sleeping with Charlie?” Isabella asked after a pause. You rolled your eyes. 

“I’m a fully grown adult Bel, I don’t need parental permission to have sex with my boyfriend.” You told her. Meghan fake gagged. 

“Can we not talk about this? I do not want to think about my brother having sex.” She begged. You grinned slightly. 

“You were the one who brought it up.” You said. Meghan sighed. 

“If I’d known it was a sex thing I would have never.” She replied. 

“With Charlie it’s always a sex thing.” You answered. 

Meghan and Isabella groaned in unison as you giggled, flopping back into your chair. 

You really needed to get some girl friends who weren’t your sister and your boyfriend’s sister.

- 

“Was I good today?” Charlie questioned, jumping onto the bed next to you as you scrolled through Instagram that night. 

You put you phone down, pretending to think. 

“Well, you tried to tease me at lunch and then tried to discuss it, which then led to me having a very awkward conversation with our sisters about our sex life. So I’m gonna go with no.” You said. Charlie’s eyes widened. 

“Y/N!” He gasped. “You can’t do that to me.” 

“Why not? I told you to be good and you weren’t so that’s on you.” You replied, returning to scrolling on your phone. Charlie placed his head on your chest, pouting.

“But...” He trailed off. You raised an eyebrow.

“But what?” You questioned. He sighed loudly.

“But I’m so horny.” He complained. You rolled your eyes.

“That sounds like a you problem.” You replied.

“Baby.” Charlie whined, dragging out the ‘y’. “I’m gonna get blue balls, do you want that?” 

“You’ve got hands. And I know you know how to use them.” You said. He sat up, giving you his infamous puppy eyes.  

“Please?” He asked. You stared at him, not wiling to budge.

“Your sex drive is frankly disturbing Gillespie.” You told him.

“I know.” He agreed, batting his eyes at you. “Please?” 

You groaned.

“Fine.” You said. His eyes widened.

“Really?” He questioned, a grin appearing on his face.

“Yes. Quickly, before I change my mind.” You nodded. Charlie moved forward but paused.

“Wait.” He said. You frowned.

“What now?” You questioned, your tone clearly showing your exasperation. 

“You want to do this, right? I’m not making you do anything you don’t want to be doing?” He asked, suddenly serious, and your frown fell as your heart filled with love for the boy in front of you and the fact that he was still asking for consent despite how desperately horny he claimed to be. You lent in, kissing him gently. 

“I promise you’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do.” You said softly.

“You’re sure?” He checked. You nodded. 

“Positive.” You reassured him. He grinned. 

“I love you.” He whispered, leaning closer. 

“I love you too.” You replied. 

And with that Charlie pulled you towards him, ready to show you just how much he really loved you. 

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 9

A/N: Well. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, guys, but this story just...wasn’t coming to me for a while. But now we’re back and I am so excited. Since it has been over a year and a half since I updated this one, please forgive us if there are a few details that aren’t perfect from the first chapters. Feels good to be writing my babies again.

Written with @tacmc.

Rowan woke up to the smell of cooking bacon and fresh coffee and he sighed contentedly. It had been two days since the hit that put him out of commission. He was hoping the rest and relaxation he’d enjoyed with his girlfriend would handle it, but it seemed that his body was protesting its natural healing process.

He groaned as he rolled out of Aelin’s bed, smiling when he found Lumi curled up in the hoodie he’d left in her chair in the corner. After giving her a scratch behind the ears, though the cat pretended he didn’t exist, he padded out into the living room, finding Aelin at the stove quietly humming to herself.

“Good morning,” he said, yawning as he pulled out a bar stool and sat down.

Aelin turned, and he was once agIn floored by how gorgeous she was, straight out of bed. That first night, when the fire alarms had pulled them all from sleep, he’d been convinced she’d scrambled to do her makeup before coming out onto the lawn. Waking up next to her two days in a row had proven to him that she was naturally beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning,” she smiled and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Hurting today?”

“Aye,” he said, stretching his arms in the air. He felt every muscle tense in his upper body and before he could say the words, Aelin beat him to it.

“I think you need to give the team trainer a call today,” she said, placing a plate full of bacon on the counter next to her.

Rowan stared at it, wanting to reach over and snag a piece, but was fairly sure she’d catch him when he grunted in pain trying to lift it. Plus, she was dumping nearly a dozen eggs into a skillet to scramble, so he was hoping she’d be feeding him soon enough. He nodded. “I was going to do that today. I was texting with him last night and he said he and the massage therapist could come here today.”

Aelin smiled. “That would be perfect. I have to go

to work in about an hour, so I’ll feel better knowing someone is here with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You do know I’m a grown man, right? Lived on my own for about seven years?”

Aelin stuck out her tongue and continued cooking at the stove, before setting a plate down in front of him piled high with eggs, hashbrowns and crispy bacon.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He asked, as she slid onto the stool next to him.

She smirked and said, “Once or twice, but don’t worry. I’ve got a drunk voicemail to listen to if I ever forget.”

She winked and Rowan felt his cheeks heat, but regardless, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead and began to eat.

After his second full helping breakfast, Aelin got Rowan set up on the couch, babying him the entire time, much to his dismay, and he sent a text to the trainer asking him to call him when he got to the arena that morning. Aelin was getting ready and Rowan was playing NHL on his Xbox when the trainer finally called him back.

“Hey, man,” Rowan answered, pausing the game and propping the phone between his ear and shoulder.

Dorian’s voice came through the receiver. “How ya feeling?”

Rowan groaned as he rotated one of his shoulders. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

With a snort, Dorian chuckled. “Have you seen most of the Pirates’ team? They’re ridiculous; all of them are huge, freaks of nature. Rolfe is no exception.”

With a nod, Rowan cringed. He hadn’t realized the captain of the Skull’s Bay Pirates had been the one to lay the hit on him. “Well, whenever you and Sorscha have time, I’d appreciate it if you could make a house call.” There was silence on the other side of the line. “Dor?”

“Sorscha’s last day was Thursday of last week, I had no clue you didn’t know,” he explained. “The new therapist started yesterday.”

“Oh.” Sorscha had been the team’s massage therapist for years and Rowan vaguely remembered rumors that she’d be leaving them. He just never had them confirmed. “That’s fine, how’s the new guy?”

“She is...a piece of work,” Dorian admitted with a sigh. “You’ll meet her when we come by. You free for us to head that way?”

“Yeah, man, the sooner you get me back in working order, the sooner I can get back on the ice,” Rowan replied, debating on saying something about the home game they had that night.

With a chuckle, Dorian said, “Don’t even think about it, man. You’re not playing tonight. We’ll leave in just a bit and see you soon.”

The call ended and Rowan dropped his phone on the couch. He looked at the clock and hollered, “What time are you off tonight, Ace?”

She poked her head out of her bedroom and said, “Four o’clock, why?”

“Wanna go to the game with me?”

Aelin blinked at him. “You aren’t playing, Ro.”

“No,” he said, standing and stretching - and groaning. “But we can go sit in the player’s box and watch.”

“You want to sit next to me for an entire hockey game and hear my commentary?” She asked, grinning.

Rowan’s grin matched hers as he held out a hand, stepping towards her. She placed her hand in his and he gently pulled her towards him. “I promise I won’t be thinking too much about the game with you there with me.”

Aelin ran her palms down Rowan’s chest. “Well, that’s a tough argument.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her. “You’ll go with me then?”

Aelin nibbled on her lip as she nodded. “If you get your ass on the couch and promise to take it easy today.”

He groaned softly. “Fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“Thank you,” she said, rising up on her toes to kiss him once more and turning back to finish getting ready. “You also have to make an appointment with your trainer.”

“He’s on his way with the sports therapist now,” Rowan said, watching her walk back to her room, enjoying every step she took. He really did try to focus on more than just her ass, but the leggings she wore weren’t helping his cause. When she looked back at him as she paused in the doorway, he had just enough time that she didn’t catch him - not that he thought she’d mind.

“Looks like we’ve got a game to go to then,” she winked, and disappeared into the bedroom.

About thirty minutes after Aelin left for the café, Rowan’s phone rang. “Hey, man. You here?”

His trainer and friend’s usually cheery voice was distinctly pissy. “Open up, Whitethorn. I’ve been knocking on your door for two minutes.”

“Oh, shit.” Rowan was up on his feet with a quiet grunt and ran to the door throwing it open. Dorian stood in front of his own apartment door, down the hall. He called, “Sorry, man, I’m staying with my girlfriend.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re Aelin’s boyfriend?”

Rowan paused and blinked. “Uh, aye? You know her?”

“I grew up with her, we’ve been friends for years,” Dorian said, the light tone returning. “I told the therapist your apartment number and she’s grabbing her table from the car. I should probably call her-.”

“No, it’s fine, I need to grab a few things from my place anyways,” he shrugged, grabbing his keys off the small table by the door. “We can set up in there so I don’t have to move Aelin’s furniture around.”

Dorian snorted. “Good call.”

Rowan unlocked his apartment and let Dorian in, turning on the lights and carefully moving things out of the way. Painfully.

He grabbed one of his least destroyed game worn jerseys and tossed it over his shoulder. He very much wanted to see her wearing it. “Aelin’s coming to the game tonight,” he said, grinning.

Dorian shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

Rowan’s grin only widened.

“Hey, uh, can I come in and see Fleetfoot?” Dorian asked, looking out toward the hallway.

Rowan blinked and said, “I mean, sure.”

They headed back down the hall to Aelin’s apartment, leaving Rowan’s door open for the therapist to carry her gear in. As soon as they entered the apartment, Fleetfoot was bounding towards Dorian, excited like Rowan had never seen her.

Glancing up at Rowan while he rubbed her belly, Dorian grinned. “I gave her to Aelin our junior year of college. I promised if she got all A’s on her finals, I’d get her puppy. Guess who got straight A’s the entire semester?”

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh, smiling and shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

Dorian’s phone chimed and he stood, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh she’s all set up and ready for you. Just head back down here when you’re done and we’ll talk about getting you on the ice again.”

“Aye, sounds good,” Rowan said and left, heading for his own apartment. The door was shut now, but he assumed it was just for privacy. He’d had to get sports massages before. They were basically a glorified regular massage. They focused on specific muscles groups, some quite intimate and quite awkward, but for the most part the etiquette was the same.

A dim room, quiet music or white noise of some sort, a special table covered in a white sheet, and the fact that you typically undress and are under just a towel.

Suddenly, Rowan froze with his hand halfway extended toward his doorknob, as he realized he was about to essentially be naked, alone in his apartment, with a woman he’d never met, as she rubbed her hands all over his body.

He’d had to get sports massages before. Just never while he’d had a girlfriend.

Maybe he should ask Dorian to come in and talk while she worked on him.

With a sigh, Rowan realized he was overthinking things. This was her job and he was judging her before he’d even met her. She was probably extremely professional and he was worrying for no reason.

With a shake of his head, he entered his apartment and asked, “Hello?”

A young woman rounded the corner, wiping her damp hands on a paper towel. Her long, black hair was braided back, and by the time her obsidian eyes met Rowan’s, he was frozen in place. For a moment, she didn’t react, and Rowan couldn’t breathe.

And then her eyes lit up and a small grin spread on her thin, red lips. His blood ran cold. He swallowed. “Maeve. What...the hell are you doing here?”

“Ah, Rowan Whitethorn,” she cooed. “We meet again.”

[carelessannie]

lookin for love (in all the wrong places)

chapter five

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

In CA:CW Steve kicks Spider-Man in the chest, awakening a soul deep bond and sending Peter into his first heat, before running away to Wakanda.

The soul bond, omegaverse, Spidershield angsty romance everyone needs.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Peter Parker Chapters: 5/ Chapter word count: 6.5K Fic Rating: E Warnings: mild violence and implied sex trafficking, extreme levels of fluff Read it here on AO3 Title is from this song by Johnny Lee

Steve

The ferry docks in the Åland Islands for a few hours overnight, allowing the two of them to sleep in shifts to be safe. After dinner, they had swept the ship for suspicious persons and bugs, tagging three places around their hallway with ears to keep an eye out for possible threats.

Even with the precautions, Steve feels on edge as they sail in the morning. Neither he nor Natasha get more than a few hours of sleep, and once the sun rises, they decide to spend the rest of the journey on the upper deck. Separating for the duration of the trip, Steve takes the helm while Natasha lounges closer to the stern.

There’s no attack, no threat to be concerned about— so when the ferry docks a few hours later, the two of them are already seated in their car and driving down the off-ramp. Steve takes the wheel first, while Natasha guides him East, following the sun until it sits high in the sky.

They stop at the border to Russia and switch vehicles, easily slipping through as the newly-mated Alpha and Omega couple on their Russian passports.

And if Natasha bats her eyes and gets them a free passage to St. Petersburg, Steve isn’t complaining.

It’s as they’re driving away that Natasha flinches at something one of the border police says under their breath, and Steve raises his eyebrow in question as he steers to merge back onto the highway. If Natasha is showing her reactions, it has to be important.

“They thought…” she pauses, chewing on her lower lip, before starting over, “When they reviewed our documents, they thought you might be my... trophy Alpha.”

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, furrowing his eyebrows, “Is that bad for us?” He doesn’t quite understand what the issue is, or why Natasha might be anxious. The two men— Betas, probably— had given them a suspicious onceover, but otherwise let them travel in peace.

Natasha makes a frustrated noise, “I’m not translating it right. They think you’re my stud— that I brought you in from America or England to… breed.”

Horrified, Steve almost swerves the car off the road. “What— does that happen often?”

“Often enough that they may call it in. It’s not illegal, technically, but if they catch wind of possible trafficking…”

“Oh,” Steve checks the rearview mirror, suddenly all too aware of the surrounding cars and trucks. “What’s our move, Nat? Do you think they’ll actually come after us?”

She shakes her head again, “Best to get to St. Petersburg. We can call Tony from there, and switch out cars. If someone’s on our tail, they’re bound to know where we’re headed anyways. Stark can get us new documents by the time we reach the base.”

“Fine. I assume you know your way around the city?”

“Steve,” Natasha coos, “haven’t I taught you not to ask questions you already know the answer to?”

He shoots her a grin, “Good, then you’re in charge of ditching our ride. I’ll make a few calls.”

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Natasha murmurs as she reclines in the seat, shifting to give herself a good view of both side mirrors while still seeing clearly out the front windshield. She crosses her feet at the ankle and pulls down the lid of a carefully worn baseball cap. If Steve didn’t know better, he would assume she fell asleep in the passenger seat.

They spend the last two hours of the drive in a tense silence, both of them on high alert. Steve knows from experience that Hydra likes to hide in plain sight— so he scans license plates, calculates distances, and carefully surveys the people in each car, looking for anything out of the ordinary. So far, nothing.

That changes when they enter the city.

Immediately, both of them sit up straighter, scanning the surrounding lanes for a threat.

“Do you—”

“Yes, stay alert,” Natasha hisses. Her hands are digging rapidly through her backpack until they pull out their last international phone. In one swift motion, she destroys it on the dashboard, lowering the window to sprinkle pieces onto the highway, sure to be crushed further by oncoming vehicles.

Steve changes lanes, inching closer to the quickly passing exit ramps. He doesn’t see a suspicious car— no black sedans, no tinted windows— but the feeling of being watched is undeniable.

“Exit here.”

Natasha’s voice is flat, and if Steve wasn’t listening for it, he would have missed the direction. Instead, he steps on the gas and throws the car into the right lane, barely avoiding the traffic cones as he speeds down the single exit ramp.

“Slower,” Natasha is reaching behind him as he merges back into traffic, this time heading West into the heart of the city. “When we get into the city, look for a coffee shop. You’re going to drop me off. Drive around the corner and watch for me— I’ll order you a drink inside and pretend I’m grabbing an item from my car. Instead, you will switch places with me, and sit outdoors drinking what I order. Keep your eyes up, run if you need to. I’ll rendezvous within an hour. Got it?”

“Got it,” Steve confirms, already slowing down as they breach the populated city limits. It isn’t long until he’s pulling up to a small café and Natasha is sauntering down the sidewalk, drawing any nearby attention to herself as he swings the car around back.

Traffic is thick, stifling, and he’s grateful to have the intel portion of this operation. Within five minutes, Natasha is in his rearview mirror, and he steps out of the vehicle to offer her the wheel.

He pulls his own hat lower to shield his face before slipping into the coffee shop, sidestepping immediately and settling into a corner table. There are three other patrons, all scattered throughout the space and engaged in the work in front of them. No threats yet.

“Peter?” a heavily accented voice calls, and Steve has to stop himself from flinching. It’s a common name— he needs to get himself under control. The voice calls out, “Peter?” once more, just as a tall, well-built man strides through the door, walking up the counter and picking up the drink.

The man turns around, “Huh. Didn’t know you were goin’ by Peter these days.”

“Sam,” Steve breathes, meeting his friends’ eyes with a shocked smile. He jumps to his feet and pulls the other man into a hug. It’s shakey— both of them chuckling and holding on tight— but the embrace is warm and feels like home.

“The hell are you doing here?” Steve grabs his arm, steering them both outside and towards the patio. “Not that I’m not grateful to see you, but… how did you find us?”

Sam shoots him a disbelieving look, placing the coffee cup between them before reclining back in his seat, “I got a tip a few days ago— something about Hydra and a base nearby. Stark got me a ride over yesterday and said I could plan on intercepting you here.”

Something in his face turns thoughtful, “You seriously didn’t see Redwing on the way in?”

“Uh,” Steve sorts through the details of their fast paced cut into the city, but can’t remember Sam’s drone being anywhere in sight.

Sam chuckles, “I followed you from the moment you entered the city— c’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t see him, not with the way you were driving.”

“Dammit, Sam,” Steve curses. “We thought…” and then he laughs, slumping back into the patio chair and scrubbing his face. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Sam spreads his arms wide, and gives Steve his widest, most charming smile, “Takes one to know one, Cap.”

There’s a beat of silence as Steve sips his drink— it’s perfect, not that he expected anything less from Natasha. Sam looks good, if not a bit tired. The smile on his face is practiced, and Steve knows it’s more for his sake than anything. They’ve never lied to each other, never had the opportunity to, so if Sam is appearing strained and weary, Steve knows he’s supposed to notice.

“Decide not to take a pardon, then?” Steve hedges, watching as Sam raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“No, Steve,” he looks out into traffic, carefully thoughtful, “it’s been a rough few months since Germany, but Sharon and I have been doing some ground work wherever King T’Challa is willing to send us. There’s a lot of shit going down, and— up until now— the only goal I really had was finding you again.”

A rush of guilt hits Steve in the chest, and he winces, “Look, I’m sorry for leaving you—”

“Hey, no— don’t do that,” Sam dismisses him, waving away the apology with one hand, “I knew you had to go to Wakanda, I had other shit that needed to get done.”

“Still, you deserved a better friend than that.”

Sam laughs, but the sound lacks any real joy, “I think we all deserved better than we got.”

There’s not much to say after, and Steve takes a long pull of his drink, trying discreetly to check his watch. Forty minutes until Natasha returns.

And speaking of, “So where did the Widow herself head off to?” Sam asks, checking his own watch. “Thought I’d catch both of you here.”

“Switching out cars. We assumed Hydra was tracking us into the city,” Steve narrows his eyes across the table, and it makes Sam laugh again.

“Damn, well... can’t say I’m sorry. Stark wanted me to keep a low profile until we crossed paths, and…” Sam sits up taller and leans across the table, forcing Steve to meet his eyes, “he mentioned something about keeping you stable.”

“God dammit—”

“Language.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Steve huffs, scrubbing his face with one hand, “why can’t Tony keep shit to himself.”

“Something I shouldn’t know about?”

Sam’s always been good at coaxing answers out of him, and Steve curses the other Alpha mentally for it. Why does he always attract friends who know him better than he knows himself?

“I found my soulmate, Sam.”

Jerking forward, the other Alpha’s eyes grow wide as his hands come down, hard, on the table. “Shit, Steve. When on earth did you have time—”

“I didn’t, Sam. That’s the thing. Fuck—”

He feels rage flow through his body for the first time in ages, and Steve’s hit with a flash of their bonding moment, marred by fear and devastation from his young Omega. He closes his eyes, remembering the residual pain from each heat. Scared and empty and alone.

There’s a hand on his arm, but Steve shakes it off, “Remember the kid Stark brought to Germany? Spider-man?”

“Sure, Bucky and I fought the kid, and he stuck us to the floor.”

“I fought him, too,” Steve sighs, rolling up the sleeve over his left arm to show the bright red and irritated word etched into his skin, “and I kicked him right in the chest.”

Sam doesn’t reach forward to touch. He barely gives it a glance, reaching over to roll up his own sleeve. Steve has to stop himself from growling in sympathy— the writing is black, smudged and illegible.

“Sam…”

With a sad smile, Sam rolls his shirt back in place, “It was years ago— and we bonded in combat. I got a few years with him on active duty, and then I felt when he was shot out of the sky.”

Sam meets his eyes, “Fucked me up good for a few years.”

“I had no idea.”

“I’m better now, sure. Wouldn’t show you if I wasn’t. Just letting you know, whatever you’re going through with this kid— because obviously you’re not with him now— that you’ve gotta value whatever time you get. In our line of business? I’m grateful I got years instead of moments, you know?”

Something clenches in his chest. Steve feels tears prick his eyes. He has to look away, afraid of the suddenly all too real possibility of crying in public. Quickly, he covers it up with a swig of cooling coffee, letting the emotions wash away alongside the bitter, familiar taste.

“I’ve never even met the kid, Sam. All I know is that he’s an Omega, and he has a strong bond with Tony.” Steve sighs, checking his watch again, “We were supposed to be extracted in Oslo, but got the tip instead. I’ll head home to him after we take care of the threat here.”

He can tell Sam disapproves of this choice, but the other Alpha just shakes his head, nodding to draw Steve’s attention back to the street, “Looks like our ride is here,” he chuckles just as a beat up Jeep swerves across traffic, coming to an abrupt stop in front of them.

The window rolls down, and Natasha makes a show of lowering her sunglasses, “Pickin’ up strays, Rogers?”

Both of them stand and approach the car, and Sam smiles as he takes the backseat, “Good to see you too, Romanoff.”

“I hope you brought your uniform,” she muses, swerving back into traffic once both of them are buckled in, “we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

---

Peter

I think you’d hate my friends, Alpha. I don’t know, maybe not. I think you’d like that they wanna take care of me, even if they’re both little pieces of shit. I bet a visit from Captain America would shut them up. Or… Are you still Captain America, Steve?

Just as Peter finishes the line, the main cafeteria doors slam open. Both of his friends— MJ and Ned— have their arms in the air, gesturing animatedly.

“There you are!”

It’s as if he summoned them. Damn Spidey-senses, never working when he needs them to.

Peter squirms in his seat, “Hey, guys…” he checks his exits, noting quick escape routes. Sure, he’s never actually needed to run from his friends, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared. “What’s up?”

Ned scoots into the bench next to him, pressing in close and draping an arm over Peter’s shoulders. MJ takes a seat on Peter’s other side, and both of them give Peter award-winning smiles— terrifying, really. Matching smiles only usually mean one thing.

“Can’t we just hang anymore, Parker?” MJ rolls her eyes, taking a discreet look at the pages in front of Peter on the table.

He quickly closes his notebook, “Sure, sure. I mean, we can hang— we hang all the time,” Peter catches them exchanging a glance, and sighs, “is there something you want? I’m trying to get homework done before practice.”

With a shake to his shoulders, Ned chuckles nervously, “No, no… we’re just looking out— ow!”

Peter looks down. MJ definitely kicked him.

“— I mean, we’re just wondering…”

“You wanna go to a Halloween party, Peter?” MJ cuts in, flicking at Ned’s arm where it’s still draped around his shoulder. Her face is open, fairly honest, and it catches Peter off guard.

“When’s Halloween?” he asks, thankful when Ned pulls his arm back.

The two of them exchange another look, “Uh…” Ned clears his throat, “it’s today, Peter. Today’s Halloween.”

“Oh.” Peter peeks into his folders to check the date on today’s homework, and sure enough, October Thirtyfirst is printed clearly across every page. Huh. He’s usually great at remembering holidays like this. “I wonder why May didn’t say anything…”

“Because,” MJ grabs his backpack, starting to shove notebooks and textbooks back inside, “we asked her to keep it a surprise. And your mom, too. We just didn’t think you were enough of a dumbass to miss the whole holiday.”

“Honestly, Peter, I don’t get how clueless you can be.”

He just nods along, letting the two of them pull him out of the cafeteria and walk towards the carpool lane. Maybe some part of him wanted them to find him today— who knows? Several other, better, hiding spots come to mind, but Peter doesn’t have it in him to protest.

A night off sounds like too much fun.

His mood immediately improves when they step outside. Parked closest to them, dark and intimidating on the curb, is one of Mr. Stark’s cars.

Happy is standing outside, holding the back door open, “Hey, kid. C’mon— haven’t got all day.”

“Oh!” Peter turns to his friends, both of their expressions smug and satisfied, “Please tell me the party’s at the compound? Oh god, I literally have nothing to wear. I have no idea—”

“We’ve got it taken care of,” MJ pushes him from behind, and Ned laughs, motioning for Peter to get in the car first.

“How did you—” Peter slides into the back seat, freezing when he sees who’s waiting for him, “Mama!”

Mr. Stark smiles— wide and genuine— and opens his arms wide. “Hey, kid. Surprise?”

Peter melts into the older Omega’s arms and squirms to get closer, ignoring how his friends laugh and tease him as he does so. Mr. Stark ruffles his hair, and rearranges them as the car starts moving. Ducking under his arm, Peter settles into Mr. Stark’s side and lets his eyes slip shut with the steady movement and noise of chatter in the background.

“You have a good day, Pete?”

He looks up to Mr. Stark and smiles, “It was okay, a lot better now. Did you help plan this?”

“What do you think, bambino? These friends of yours are… passionate.”

The description makes Peter chuckle. He’s fully aware just how passionate his friends can be. They are digging through the amenities stored in hidden compartments, and somehow both end up with a can of soda and several boxes of candy.

Peter ignores them in favor of burying himself into the warmth of Mr. Stark’s scent. There are lazy, calloused fingers in his hair, and he relaxes even more— a pleased purr building effortlessly from his chest.

When they eventually pull up to the compound, Ned and MJ are out in a shot— barreling through the doors and screaming into the empty halls.

Before Peter can leave the car, Mr. Stark grabs his shoulders and turns them to face each other, staring intentionally into his eyes. “If you don’t want to do this, Peter, we don’t have to? I have about fifty people coming over for a costume party, but I can cancel it and we can spend the night just us, if you’d like?”

He takes a moment to actually think it over. His skin is crawling, eyes already heavy with exhaustion. The thought of socializing with more than a few people is turning his stomach, and he looks into Mr. Stark’s eyes with a helpless grimace, “I guess I wouldn’t mind a party…”

“But you’d rather not?” Mr. Stark guesses, giving him a knowing smirk. Peter scrunches up his nose and shakes his head, and gets a chuckle in response, “Alright bambino, let me make a few calls. Why don’t you go inside and coral the animals.”

Peter laughs and leans in to give Mr. Stark a quick peck on the cheek, “Okay, Mama. Don’t work too hard.”

He catches a glimpse of Mr. Stark’s embarrassed flush before hopping out of the car, skipping towards the compound joyfully. Now that the threat of social interaction is out of the way, Peter feels excited about Halloween and the evening ahead of them.

“Ned?” He calls out, “MJ? Where are you guys?”

“Try the Eastern living room, Peter,” Friday’s voice rings out in the hallway, and Peter turns around to race down the corridor in the opposite direction, still calling out their names.

“In here, Pete!” Ned hollers.

When he turns the corner, Peter comes face to face with the classiest Halloween party room he’s ever seen. Every wall is covered in glass decorations, backlit with soft lights in various colors. An entire section of the room has been converted to a wardrobe, and both of his friends are rifling through the options.

Peter gravitates towards them, pushing aside different dresses and masks, “What’s…”

“Look, Pete— I’m you!” MJ has a Spider-man mask pulled down over her face as she laughs, pretending to shoot webs from her wrists, “bet I’d be a kick-ass Spider-man.”

He just shakes his head, “I bet you would, MJ.”

“What about me?”

Both of them turn to look at Ned as he wobbles over, legs and arms shoved haphazardly into the wrong end of a Spider-man onesie. His face is so confident as he stands in the middle of the room, and Peter can’t help the cackle that bursts out of his mouth, bringing tears to his eyes as he keels over in laughter.

“Where did… what did…” he can barely breathe, and looking up again at Ned is just a mistake.

MJ isn’t any better. She tears off the mask and coughs loudly, falling to the floor in a heap, “Ned! Where did you find that?”

“What?” Ned whines, striking a pose that sends them back into a fit of hysterics, “I don’t get how you can fight bad guys in this Peter— I feel too sexy for crime right now.”

“Please!” Peter begs as he wipes away tears, “mercy!”

“What’s all the— oh mother of god,” Mr. Stark’s voice rings out in the room, and it sends all three teenagers back into peels of laughter. He stands at the entrance to the living room with his arms crossed and an indulgent smile stretched across his face, and Peter lets himself roll on the floor and laugh and laugh and laugh.

Peter turns onto his back and lets the tears flow. They drench his cheeks and drip onto the rug, creating small spots on both sides of his head. It feels good— freeing. His next inhale is deep, his mind clears completely, and Peter realizes this is the first time he’s laughed in months. That every time he’s cried in the past few weeks has been full of devastation and sorrow.

Their combined scents slowly fill the room and bind them together as the evening progresses, each of them relaxing further and further into the moment. By the time the sun’s setting, Ms. Potts and Aunt May arrive with delivery, and the small group of them curl up on the couches to watch a Halloween movie.

Mr. Stark and Pepper take the love seat, and— with one last, longing gaze at the small spot in between them— Peter settles into a lump of blankets and pillows on the far end of the longer couch. He keeps a good distance between himself and his friends at the other end, but he can tell that there’s some awkward tension in the room as the movie starts to play.

He tries to ignore it, but Aunt May keeps giving him a look from her seat on a nearby chair.

“What?” he hisses at her, pouting a bit when she smirks.

May points at the loveseat and whispers, “You should sit with them. I know you wanna.”

“Stop!” Peter shakes his head in denial, “I’m not going to—”

“Hey, pup!” Mr. Stark calls from across the room, and Peter flushes. He knows the nickname is aimed at him.

Peter pulls the blankets up around his face, “Yes, Mama?”

There’s a snort from the MJ-Ned-shaped-lump, but it’s ignored. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts exchange a few hushed words before motioning for him to join them, “Come on over, Peter,” Pepper says with a confident smile, “plenty of room to join us.”

He’s up and out of the seat before he even processes moving.

At different points in his life, Peter has imagined how it might feel to curl up, safe and warm, between his parents. Never, in a million years, did he think he would get to experience that.

But the space between Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts feels like home. Scents like home. It’s sweet and warm in a way Aunt May’s Beta scent has never been. Peter has never scented Ms. Potts up close, but he’s not surprised when her scent has him immediately relaxing, melting back into the couch cushions.

The only Alpha he’s ever been close to is MJ, and her scent is terrifying .

Pepper lifts her arm and gives him a small smile, “You comfortable, Peter?”

Words won’t come, his senses are on overload. He feels a hand on his shoulder as Mr. Stark moves him, turning him bodily to lay across their laps with his feet in Pepper’s lap, head on Mr. Stark’s shoulder.

“Just relax, bambino,” Mr. Stark whispers, scratching at the baby hairs behind Peter’s ear, “we’ve got you.”

He lets his eyes close slowly. Both of them are scent-marking him subtly— squeezing his arms and legs, kissing his hair, and laying a blanket over him sometime later. The movie passes by completely unnoticed, and Peter dozes comfortably.

Why can’t every night be like tonight?

As the thrill of the night is fading away, Peter hears Mr. Stark offer his friends a ride back to the city. The two of them are fading as well, and it doesn’t take much convincing to get them out the door and into a waiting car.

May kisses him on the head before she leaves, “Sure you don’t want me to stay, Pete?”

“M’sure,” he murmurs, blinking up at her lazily, “you have work in the morning, right?”

“Yeah, champ. I do. You okay staying the night here, or do you want to head back with me?”

Peter looks back at Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts with a hopeful smile. Both of them laugh, and Mr. Stark waves his hand dismissively, “You know you’re always wanted here, Pete.”

“By both of us,” Pepper adds, squeezing his leg where her hand is resting.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint,” May chuckles. She leans in for another kiss and Mr. Stark gets up to walk her out, leaving Peter and Pepper together on the couch.

He looks up at her. Everything about Pepper screams an intimidating mix of composure and warmth. Now that Mr. Stark is gone, he can separate their scents— and something about her distinct Alpha scent has him ducking his head, shy and submissive.

There’s a light touch on his arm, “Don’t hide from me, Peter,” her grin is soft and reassuring, “if you feel uncomfortable with me like this, you don’t have to stay— you know that, right?”

Her eyes are kind and not at all judgemental. He believes her doubtlessly.

“We haven’t spent much time together, have we?” Peter asks, hesitantly.

Pepper shakes her head, strawberry hair sweeping gracefully over her shoulder, “No, I don’t think so. Tony does come home smelling of you often, though.”

“Oh!” Peter sniffs his shirt, grimacing, “sorry about that, he helps me…”

“No, don’t worry, Peter,” she places a hand on his shoulder again, “I just meant that I’m familiar with your scent already. Tony even puts some of your items in our nest— I know he wants me to get used to our scents together.”

“Why… why would he do that?”

“Oh, Peter,” Pepper sighs. She shakes her head and leans back against the cushions, “we’re gone on you Peter. We really want to adopt you… at least informally.”

“She’s right.”

Mr. Stark’s voice is loud in the living room as he makes his way back to the couch. With a little bit of maneuvering, Peter is stuck in between them again, and this time he’s resting against Pepper’s chest. Her arms easily settle next to him on the sofa, aware of his space and cautious not to close him in.

“We have a secret plot to adopt and steal you away, kid,” Mr. Stark smirks and kicks his legs up, sipping on a drink as they settle together. “I just needed to get proper approval beforehand, you know?”

Peter hums, and he knows his own scent has gone sweet in satisfaction. The thought of being adopted— having a mom and dad, Alpha and Omega— is overwhelming.

“You promise?” Peter whispers. Part of him is scared of the possible rejection, even though he knows Mr. Stark rarely lies to him.

“Of course, bambino— whatever you want.”

As they cuddle together on the couch, trading hushed stories and sweet laughter, Peter has a thought.

It’s not the most responsible thought he’s ever had. If Mr. Stark digs too deep, he’ll chalk it up to being a teenager, being emotional, being an Omega.

“Mama?” Peter stares up at Mr. Stark with his best puppy-dog expression, and pouts his bottom lip, “Can I ask a favor?”

“I’m suspicious already, but sure— what is it?”

Pepper chuckles behind him, and Peter reaches down to hold her hand for comfort, “Can you get my letters to Steve?”

With a loud cough, Mr. Stark chokes on his drink and sputters. His hands fly up and wave around frantically, possibly looking for something to anchor him. Peter curls further into the shield of Pepper’s body and lets her deal with the aftermath— patting Mr. Stark’s back and criticizing him for being so dramatic.

“In what—“ Mr. Stark starts, coughing hard, “In what universe would that be a good idea, Peter?”

“I... I didn’t...”

“Actually,” Pepper interrupts, interlacing their fingers together, “I think that might be a good idea.”

Mr. Stark looks betrayed, affronted. Peter turns to smile up at her, “Really? You think so?”

“Once your hormones are stable, why not?” Pepper asks, kicking at Mr. Stark when her Omega makes a disappointed face, “It might be helpful for your Alpha to hear from you.”

“Get his head on straight,” Mr. Stark grumbles. His hands are clenched, and he refuses to look at them.

There’s a beat of silence where Peter just stares at Mr. Stark, hoping for an answer. He knows it’s a big favor to ask— but if anyone can get it done, he knows Tony Stark can.

“Fine.”

---

Hi Steven Grant Rogers, God. Would you make me take your name? I really hate that. Maybe I’ll ask you to take my name instead. Mr. Stark said I could send you one letter every month, and that if you respond, I can have that letter back. I hope you respond. Uh... I’m not sure what else to say. My name is Peter and I’m in high school. I know that makes things hard for you, being old as dirt, but I hope when we meet that it won’t be too awkward. I hope you stay safe. I’m finally on suppressants and doing better than I was before. Your words on my arm barely hurt anymore. Okay. That’s all for now. Yours, Peter Benjamin Parker Oh! PS I’ve sent a little sample of what I scent like. Mama said that you would like that.

Tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @purplefreakwolffish @instantsharkskeletonpizza @justslightlycrazy @angelstarker @femmeparker @starkeraddictbaby @starkentrprises @snowstark @sarcastich

[anna-justice]

Superman - Upstead

Summary: Jay and Hailey are a part of an officer involved shooting, the aftermath puts Hailey in a very dangerous situation, causing her and Jay’s lives to be at risk. (Pre-Established Upstead)

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood & gore, swearing, angst, over-protective Jay

Requested: Yes! #71, “Get away from him/her!” & #74, “He’s/She’s not yours.”

…

“5021 George, we are in pursuit of the offender on foot. The offender is armed, all units advised. Send back up to the corner of Garden and North Malcom.” Jay said into his radio as he and Hailey raced down an alleyway. They were in a nicer part of town, the streets were more open and Jay could see an open field at the end. “Hailey, I’m gonna cut him off.” Jay called out to his partner, before darting out of the opening. He beat them to the end, taking off as the offender exited the alleyway. 

Jay sprinted towards the large man, tackling him to the ground. He knew he had a gun, but it was his only choice. They rolled across the grass, Jay immediately trying to get the upper hand. Hailey caught up, drawing her weapon. “Chicago P.D. Stand down!” She shouted from yards away.

The offender was restless, flipping them so that Jay was pinned underneath. Jay kicked him in the groin and knocked the gun out of his hand. Neither of the men had noticed Hailey’s presence, and when Jay reached behind him to grab the gun, the man punched square in the jaw, disorienting him. The man smiled, standing and grabbing his gun, pointing it at Jay. 

There was a loud pop, followed by a thud. Jay sat up immediately, seeing his partner with her gun raised. “You good?” She called out, racing towards him. 

“Yeah.” Jay said, jumping up and kicking the gun away. He wiped the blood from his nose as he checked the guys pulse, he was gone. 

Hailey sighed as she reached her partner, “That was stupid.” She said sternly.

Jay nodded, “Yeah, I know.” He looked her in the eye, holding their gaze, almost like a silent apology for scaring her like that. They were interrupted by the sounds of sirens. Patrol had made it to the scene. Pretty soon the field was flooded with officers and crime techs. 

“What happened?” Voight asked, finally arriving on scene. 

Hailey shrugged, “He ran as soon as we knocked on the door, Jay tackled him, he had a gun. It was us or him.” She explained. Jay nodded, backing her up.

Voight gave them a short nod, “Well, I guess that’s justice. Let’s head back, we’re back to square one.” The two nodded, bidding him goodbye and walking back to their rig.

They had been working the case a few days, it was a quadruple rape and homicide. The offender they were chasing was Jason Forbes, they knew he was one of them abusers because his DNA was found on all four victims, but now they were looking for his partner. 

Jay jumped in the driver's seat of the truck, Hailey following suit on the other side. “Thanks,” He said, once they were settled. “For earlier…”

“Yeah, Of course.” Hailey said, smiling at him. “You're my partner, I’ve always got your back.”

…

It was a long day full of almost no leads, it was like the trail died with Jason. There wasn’t even anything to chase down. All they had was everything they knew above Jason, and no one he knew met any of the criteria they were looking for. No one looked good. 

Eventually, Voight told them to all go home and get some rest. Hailey suggested getting a drink, Jay didn’t do well cases involving children, especially rape cases. Plus, she knew he was beating himself up over his attempted arrest earlier. They agreed to meet at the pub a few blocks away from Hailey’s apartment. It had become their own personal Molly’s. 

They sat at a high table near the back, the only thing it was near was the old fashioned jukebox, that they were both sure didn’t work. “How’s your nose?” Hailey asked, taking a sip of her beer.

Jay chuckled, “Fine, thanks.” 

Hailey put her hands up in surrender, “I’m being serious, he hit you pretty hard.” She was trying to hide her genuine concern behind the humor, cause she couldn’t get the image of that man standing over him with a gun out of her head. 

“I’m a little sore.” Jay admitted, sighing. “But, I’m fine. Thanks to you.” He smiled softly, making direct eye contact yet again. 

Hailey shook her head, averting her gaze. “You’re acting like I took a bullet for you.” 

Jay shrugged, “Close enough.” 

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them really knew what to say. There was a cloud looming over the table. It wasn’t lost on Hailey that if she had been just 10 seconds later, Jay might be dead. And Jay knew how close he came to death today, just because he overestimated his own abilities. They came close to losing each other, but wasn’t that the job? It wasn’t a new thing, but it felt different. 

About an hour later, they walked out of the bar. Heading towards the parking lot to their separate cars. Jay walked a little behind her, he wasn’t ready to part ways yet, but he didn’t know how else to make her stay with him. “Hailey-” He started, but something caught his eye.

“Yeah?” She asked, turning around.

A car passing on the street slowed slightly, the back seat window rolled down and Jay saw the tip of a long gun. “Hailey, get down!” He shouted, sprinting and tackling her to the ground. Bullet after bullet hit the brick wall behind them as Jay used his entire body to shield her from the fire. When the assault finally stopped, they both waited a few seconds before sitting up. Jay grabbed Hailey’s shoulders, scanning her body. “Are you okay? Are you hit?”

He subconsciously placed a hand on her cheek, running his thumb over the pavement burn just above her jawline. Hailey placed her hand over his, “I-I’m fine. Are you okay? What the hell just happened?” She asked, taking his hand as he helped her stand. 

“I-I don’t know. I saw the gun and-” Hailey cut him off by launching herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around him. Jay hugged her back immediately, holding her close. She was shaking, Jay combed his fingers through her hair. “Hey, it’s okay. We're okay.” They stood there, wrapped up in each other for a few minutes before a patrol car rolled up. 

“We got a call of shots fired?” The guy asked, stepping out of the car. 

Jay pulled up the bottom of his shirt, showing the officer his badge. “Yeah, a black SUV rolled by and just started shooting, I couldn’t get plates.” 

While Jay talked to patrol, Hailey looked around, finding a set of security cameras. “Hey Jay!” She called out, she got his attention immediately. “We should check with the owner and see if these work.” She said, pointing up at them. 

Jay nodded, “You guys call for backup, I’m gonna go talk to the owner and call my sergeant.” He ordered, clicking on Voight’s contact information. It was going to be a long night. 

…

“Matthew Zimmerman.” Kim said, taping his picture to the board. “That’s who the car is registered to. Now, there is no obvious connection between him and Jason Forbes other than them being in the same facebook chat room.” 

Kevin turns his computer screen so that they can all gather behind it. “We didn’t find it before, because somehow Jason was able to make it unassessable on all his devices. It’s called the Misunderstood Brotherhood, and it is an invitation only, unmarked room. So you can only get in with a code from an invite.” 

Kim continued, “We searched through all of the members and there are near 75 in the Chicago area, many of which are registered sex offenders or have previous allegations against them.” 

“So, it’s a bragging ground for rapists?” Jay snapped, leaning on Hailey’s desk and crossing his arms. 

“Sort of.” Kim said.

“Most of the messages are pretty disturbing, they talk about urges and possible intent, but they are smart. There is nothing specifically incriminating, well, except for this.” Kevin scrolled through the chat, stopping so they could all read the bolded message. “This was posted yesterday afternoon.”

This morning, one of our brothers, Jason forbes, was shot and killed by Hailey Upton. A Detective in the Intelligence Unit out of the 21st district, badge #55055. We will not stand for this and we must avenge his death. The brotherhood will award a $100,000 reward to anyone who can eliminate the officer as a threat. Do us proud.

Hailey gasped, taking a step back. Her back hit her partner’s side, who instinctively wrapped a protective arm around her waist. “Holy shit.” Adam said.

“So last night, that was a hit?” Hailey asked shakily. 

Kim nodded, “It looks like it, and we can assume at least 200 other people have seen this message.”

Voight took over from there. “Alright, we need to get Hailey to a safe house. Halstead, you’ll go with her. I’m gonna call the ivory tower, they are gonna want to be in the loop.”

As soon as Voight shut the door to his office, Adam stood. “Maybe I should go with Hailey.”

Jay scoffed, “What?”

“I’m just saying, your head doesn’t really seem in the game.” Adam snapped, Jay’s arm wrapped around Hailey catching his attention.

“Do I need to talk to you?” Jay asked, his jaw clenched.

“Jay-”

Jay took a step forward, “Where the hell do you get off?” Jay asked, seething. “She’s my partner.”

“She’s not yours, Jay.” Adam said, getting in Jay’s face.

Hailey stepped forward, holding her hand up to Adam. “I’m not anyone’s,” She snapped. Jay took it as a chance to step back, the last thing he wanted to do was piss Hailey off. Hailey glared at Adam, shaking her head. She didn’t understand why he was causing such a scene. She turned to Jay, “Let’s get our stuff.” She stormed off to the locker room, Jay hot on her tail. She turned around exasperated when she entered the room, Jay cracked the door behind them. “What the hell was that?” She whisper yelled.

“I’m sorry-”

Hailey cut him off, “I won’t be the prize you two sword fight over. That was incredibly embarrassing, if Voight had been out there, there would be hell to pay.”

Jay slouched in defeat. “I know, I’m sorry. He just makes me so mad sometimes.” 

“Jay.” She said, “Do you really think I would have let Adam come with me over you?”

Jay sighed, “No.” 

Hailey stuck her arms out at her sides, emphasizing his statement. “Thank you.” She collapsed onto the bench behind her, running a hand through her hair. Jay cautiously walked toward her, sitting down about a foot away and leaning on his hands. Her fast mood changed, scaring him a bit. Hailey sighed, running her hands over her face. “There’s a bounty on my head.” 

Jay shifted a little closer to her, letting his hand rest on her back. “We’ll get through it.” 

Hailey looked up at him, something about the way he said we made her heart skip a beat. Before she could say anything, the door swung open and revealed Kevin. “Hey, you guys ready to go?”

Hailey jumped up immediately, sniffling. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

…

Three unmarked cars and a safety evaluation later, Hailey found herself sitting on a not so comfortable couch. For their own safety, neither of them knew quite where they were. There were alarms on all the windows and doors, so if someone tried to break in the team sitting in the house would immediately be alerted. 

Jay was pacing, his hands on his hips. Hailey huffed, “Are you gonna do that all night?” She asked.

“Maybe.” He deadpanned. 

Hailey rolled her eyes, “Can you please just come sit down.” She asked. 

Jay sighed, admitting defeat and sitting on the other side of the couch. “Better?”

Hailey smiled, “Much.” 

They sat in silence for a while, deciding to turn on the TV in front of them, not that there was anything good on. Jay snuck glances at his partner, even though he had been seeing more and more of it lately, it was nice to see her so casual. She had on leggings and a sweatshirt, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Her sock covered feet pulled up on the couch and tucked under her as she watched the screen absently. Jay watched the way the colors danced over her face in the dark room, smiling softly. He swore she got more beautiful everyday. 

Hailey looked over at him, blushing slightly when she found his gaze already on her. “What?”

Jay coughed, “Nothing.” He could see the gears in her head turning from across the couch. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

“Eh, I don’t know,” Hailey shrugged, smiling weakly at him. “That we’re even now.” 

Jay chuckled, “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“I-” Hailey started, “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.” She looked down at her hands, feeling her eyes well up. “I know we put our lives on the line everyday, but…” Jay held his breath, her heart aching for her. “I could’ve died last night. I could have died last night, and you could’ve too, and that would have been my fault.”

“Hailey-”

“No Jay,” She said, looking at him with teary eyes. “You can’t talk yourself out of this one. You put yourself between me and a gunman and I just, I don’t understand.”

Jay shifted, moving a little closer to her. “Hailey. I will never not protect you.” 

Hailey sucked in a breath, his gaze hot on her skin. They had never been quiet about trusting each other, they both knew they would follow the other anywhere, that at the end of the day, they would be there for each other. But this, this was new. Not to him, he had always protected her, but for the first time in a while Hailey got a glimpse at how much she really meant to him. “I, uh, It’s getting late.” She rushed out, looking at her hands again. “We should get some sleep.” She stood, glancing back at him. 

“Uh, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed.” He busied himself gathering pillows from the other chairs and grabbing the throw blanket off the back, trying not to think about Hailey’s complete dismissal of his previous statement.

“Jay.” She said, and his head snapped up. “Are you really going to make me sleep alone tonight?” It was forward, she would admit. But the thought of sleeping alone in some random house while people were literally racing to kill her, wasn’t so appealing.

He stood, shaking his head. “No.” 

Hailey smiled, letting him follow her to the hotel-like bedroom. It was a big enough bed for two people, thankfully. Hailey pulled back the covers and climbed it, she hadn’t slept in over 48 hours and she was feeling it for sure. Jay climbed in cautiously, glad that he had a pair of sweatpants in his overnight bag and he didn’t have to sleep in his jeans. They laid on complete opposite sides of the bed facing each other. “Goodnight Jay.” Hailey said quietly.

“Goodnight Hailey.” 

…

Jay woke up in the middle of the night, needing to pee. When he registered where he was, he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Hailey’s back was pressed against his chest and his arm was wrapped around her waist. He smiled to himself, careful not to wake her as he climbed out. 

The bathroom light was blinding as he flipped it on, waking him all the way up, he noticed he had creases all over his arms from the blanket. Means it was a good sleep. He thought, grinning. Honestly, he was surprised he was sleeping so well, given the circumstances. He guessed he was more dependent on Hailey than he thought, she really did calm him. 

He did his business quickly, itching to get back in bed and enjoy his partners embrace, even if it was for just one night. He was halfway back to the bedroom when he heard a loud crash. He took off running, and when he reached the bedroom, he saw a masked man standing in front of the broken window, staring a Hailey. 

The man took a step forward, not noticing Jay’s presence. Hailey woke up confused, screaming for Jay when she saw the man. “Get away from her.” He yelled, charging forward. The man pulled a gun, but Jay kept going.

“Jay!” Hailey screamed again, thinking her partner was crazy. 

Jay grabbed the gun, ripping it out of the guy's hand and punching square in the jaw. He tossed it on the bed, “The safety was on.” He said, getting on the top of the guy and flipping him on his stomach. Hailey jumped up and ran to her belt across the room, grabbing a pair of handcuffs and handing them to Jay. Jay cuffed the guy and pulled the mask off, revealing a younger man. Jay stood him up, “Let’s go in the kitchen, we don’t know if there are more coming.” 

Hailey nodded, following behind him. She removed the rounds from the gun and placed it on the counter, watching Jay sit the guy down on the floor. A few minutes later there was commotion outside and the pair immediately raised their guns. “Chicago P.D!” Someone yelled and they both sighed, relaxing. The rescue team kicked the door in and was surprised to find the duo alive and well on the other side. 

Jay picked the guy up off the ground and handed him over. “He came in through the bedroom window.” The detective nodded, hauling him out of the house. 

As part of protocol, Jay and Hailey were both checked out by paramedics. They went over details with the detectives and their team, hopefully giving the information they needed to get ahead of and take down the brotherhood. Eventually they found themselves in the back of another unmarked car, Hailey leaning into Jay’s side, she was physically and emotionally exhausted, way too exhausted to worry about how things might look or come across.

Jay held her close to him, letting his thumb rub over the fabric of her sweatshirt. Hailey yawned, “You really have been playing superman today.” She said groggily. 

“Yeah?” Jay asked, smirking.

“Yeah, you’re pretty good at it.” Hailey confessed, leaning further into him. “But don’t quit your day job.” 

Jay smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I couldn’t leave you stranded like that.”

Hailey smiled contently, “You better not, good partners are hard to find.” 

“Yeah they are.” Jay agreed, hugging her closer. Good partners were hard to find.

…

A/N: This got so long, sorry! I really like it though, I haven’t written anything like it. Thank you so much for reading! <3

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story. 

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you. 

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them. 

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast. 

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically. 

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day. 

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth. 

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes. 

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully. 

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript. 

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?” 

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.” 

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind. 

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks. 

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face. 

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.” 

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head. 

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand. 

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley. 

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with. 

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates. 

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along. 

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity. 

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?” 

“Of course.” 

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.” 

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her. 

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says. 

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock? 

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.” 

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else. 

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese. 

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich. 

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way. 

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records." 

"What've you got?" 

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts." 

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long." 

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart." 

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?" 

"Times three deposits," Riley adds. 

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash." 

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?” 

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.” 

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen. 

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all. 

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?" 

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this. 

"Uh huh. Sure." 

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger. 

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy. 

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces. 

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while. 

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.” 

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good. 

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?” 

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?” 

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?” 

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door. 

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment. 

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.  

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him. 

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door. 

Ah. 

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.” 

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction. 

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated. 

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing. 

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning. 

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her. 

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter. 

Harley, it turns out, is no exception. 

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it. 

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there. 

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes. 

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.” 

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel. 

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.” 

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life. 

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.” 

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.” 

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants. 

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog. 

“This is Harley.” 

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.” 

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it. 

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife. 

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.” 

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic. 

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway. 

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch. 

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that. 

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that. 

He can’t. 

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.” 

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that. 

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.” 

Mac’s brain short-circuits. 

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing. 

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago. 

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing. 

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion. 

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.” 

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.” 

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.” 

He is not good. He is definitely not good. 

And Riley knows it. 

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously. 

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them. 

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one. 

He’s screwed.

.

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[ottitty]

Okay idk about you but like the only date I remember for coming to terms with some part of my identity is July 18 bc that’s when it hit me like a truck that I had ✨no beeny✨ for a gender (non-binary skskkdkd I just like saying shit weird makes it more fun) SO back to my original point for writing this, what if Gavin had something similar?? A day marked out on the calendar maybe just with some little rainbow sticker or something, and every time it rolls by he has a little celebration for himself, maybe he makes some rainbow cupcakes and buys himself a lil something he’s been wanting, maybe does some self care, and then he and Nines get together and it’s Nines’ first time celebrating it with him

TL;DR: Gavin has the day he realized he was gay marked in his calendar and he throws himself a little celebration every time it rolls around and after he and Nines start dating Nines gets to celebrate with him

Oooh! That sounds super interesting!!!!

Edit: Yeah, so, this is turning out longer than I thought, sooo I think I'm gonna make this into a two-parter. Then I feel better about it because my adhd brain won't be telling me "no time!! get done now!!"

--

It was a small little detail. Something he only saw once in passing and never got the chance to ask the meaning of it but, being an android, he never forgot. A tiny rainbow sticker smaller than his fingernail stuck to Gavin's calendar under the date June 16th.

Two years later and five months into their relationship, he found himself staring at a similar rainbow sticker on the calendar on Gavin's fridge.

Bare feet padded across the wooden floor before a pair of arms draped around his neck, "Morning, tin can."

Nines set a hand on Gavin's arm, still staring at the sticker, "Good morning, Gavin. How did you sleep?"

"Good," he yawned, reaching over Nines' shoulder to grab a pen and cross off the space for June 3rd - yesterday - "How was your," he gestured vaguely at Nines, "...android-sleepy thing?"

Nines turned so he was facing Gavin, "It was fine. Are you hungry?"

"Mmh," Gavin let his head fall against Nines' chest, "Coffee."

"Eggs and toast it is," it was only half a joke, seeing as Nines was already grabbing a pan and setting it on the stove.

Gavin groaned, but dragged himself to sit at the counter anyways. He let his head fall on the polished granite as Asshole jumped up and started to 'groom' his hair.

From in front of the stove, there was a chuckle, and a few moments of silence before a crack and sizzling filled the kitchen, "Gavin?"

"Yeah?" The man slurred out, busy with his half-hearted attempts at swatting Asshole away.

Nines mulled over his words for a moment before speaking up, "There's a sticker under the date June 16th."

Gavin sat up to look at Nines, causing Asshole to jump off the counter, "Yeah, what about it?"

Nines turned away from the eggs to see Gavin with his curly hair flying in every direction and an almost defensive look in his eye, "I was just curious what it meant."

"It's nothing, tin can."

Nines turned back to the eggs, "Gavin, you forget to mark your own birthday in your calendar until September. It must be of some importance."

"Can it, Nines," Gavin snapped.

Nines sighed but dropped it for now. In the corner of his vision, he saw a new objective appear:

Find out the importance of June 16th.

---

It only took five days for Nines' new objective to start perpetuating a constant nagging in his systems. After the third night of midnight visits to Connor, he was assured that said feeling was not a virus and told in much more... impolite words by Hank to not come back until he had talked to Gavin.

Today, June 12th, Nines had carried on business as usual until the second he clocked out with Gavin, "Let's go out tonight."

"What?"

"Connor was telling me of this new bar with thirium cocktails. It's just down the street from your apartment," he paused for a moment, "Is this not what couples do?"

"No, no," Gavin shook his head, "It's just- you hate bars. You know I don't mind ordering takeout and watching TV with you, right?"

"I am well aware, Gavin," Nines offered his hand for the other to take, "However, I would like to try something new."

"Okay," he sighed, taking Nines' hand, "Where to, tin can?"

"Hand me the keys, I will drive."

"My emotional support Roomba has become a chauffeur," Gavin let go of Nines' hand to fish his car keys out of his pocket, "Most advanced microwave to date, eh tin can?"

"Please get in the car."

[thefloorisbalaclava]

pragma - part five

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, angry Frankie (but not at you), light smut ;)

A/N: Back to your POV. I’ve really been enjoying writing this and I love all the feedback I’ve been getting! Thanks everyone!

Summary: After spending the night with Frankie again, you get a phone call about the last person you want to see.

pragma masterlist

You were used to waking up to birds singing but this morning they seemed to be singing particularly loud. You blinked a few times and realized you were outside. When your eyes finally adjusted to the bright sun, you tried sitting up but there was a heavy weight at your waist that held you tighter when you tried to move.

“Mm…not yet,” Frankie said sleepily. “Stay.” His eyes were still closed so you weren’t sure if he was awake or talking in his sleep.

“We can’t stay here forever.” You would feel a little silly if you were talking to a sleeping person.

“Why can’t we?” Frankie asked and now you knew he was awake. You tried to think of an answer but nothing came to you. Why couldn’t you? Spending the rest of your life living under the open sky with the man you…loved? Yes. Loved. You had no answer for him. The only thing you could do was curl up with him again.

“Wanna make out?” you asked jokingly.

“Are you seriously asking me that? Do you really think I’d turn you down?” He tucked his fingers under your chin and lifted your head so he could get to your lips…

Then your phone rang.

“Damn,” you whined, reluctantly pulling away from Frankie to reach into your pocket. It was your lawyer. “Hello?” When you sat up, Frankie’s brow furrowed in concern. “Okay. Right. Bye.” You hung up and immediately slid yourself out of the bed of the pickup.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asked.

“I have to get home.”

“Okay but what’s wrong?” he repeated.

“My ex-husband…he needs to come by and get the rest of his stuff out of my house.” You rubbed your temples and groaned.

“That’s bad?”

“I don’t wanna see him.” You looked at Frankie. “I had so much fun with you yesterday and today I have to deal with this.”  

“Hey, listen to me…” He hopped down from the truck and put his arms around you. “We’ll go and get it over and done with fast.”

“We?” you asked.

“Think I’d let you do this on your own?”

“Frankie,” you cried, wrapping your arms around him.

“Besides…I gotta see what this guy looks like. Is he one of those guys that wear a suit every day? And let me guess: he’s blond and has a name like ‘Bill' or ‘Tom’.”

You hid your face in his shirt and laughed. In a few seconds flat you went from crying to laughing. “He’s ‘John' actually.”

“Yikes…even worse than I thought.” He rubbed your back as you looked up at him. “What?”

“Thank you,” you murmured. Frankie wiped a tear from your cheek. “I’d love to stand here and let you hold me all day but we really should get back to my place.”

“Damn ex-husband.” He made a face and you laughed again before kissing him.

“You promise to behave?” you asked as he finally let you go and walked around to the driver’s side. He didn’t respond until you both were in the car.

“I can’t promise that. I already wanna punch the fucker in the face.”

“Frankie!” You slapped his arm. “Our lawyers will be there. No need to get you into any more legal trouble.” It came out before you could stop yourself but once you realized what you said, you froze and turned to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-"

“It’s fine.” He started the car and drove quietly for a while. “I’m not upset so stop worrying.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” You reached over and touched his thigh. He tensed then cleared his throat.  

“Careful,” he warned, smiling over at you before looking at the road again.

You took your hand away sheepishly and stared ahead. “You’re not really gonna punch him, are you?”

“I said no promises.” He was completely serious now. “He made your life harder by not just signing those fucking papers…and now he wants the rest of his stuff…” He scoffed.

“You sound angrier than me.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “It’s kinda hot actually.”

“Are you…are you serious?” he chuckled.

“Maybe…” You sat back down, playing with your fingers until Frankie took one of your hands and held it.

“You’re nervous. You always pick at your fingers when you’re nervous or scared.” This man was stealing a piece of your heart with every word. “Wait, you’re not scared of him, are you? Did he do something to make you afraid?”

You shook your head but couldn’t look at him. “No.”

“You’re not telling the truth.” His eyes were on you but you still wouldn’t look at him.

“Eyes on the road,” you said trying to change the subject. Suddenly, he pulled over and turned off the car. His hands wrung the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

“What. The fuck. Did he do?”

“Nothing, Frankie. He was just…controlling. That’s all.” Your eyes filled with tears but you kept your head down so he wouldn’t see.

“How many times?” he asked.

“I’m fi-"

“How many times?!” he shouted and you flinched. He noticed his mistake right away and reached over to pull you onto his lap sideways. It was a little awkward with the steering wheel there but he made it work. “I’m sorry. I just can’t stand…I can’t handle the thought of a man putting his hands on you that way.” He kissed the top of your head as you sobbed into his shirt. “Did he?”

“Yes, but I was strong. Like you taught me.”

“That’s not what I was going for when I taught you how to fight, sweetheart. Look at me.” His callused hands cupped your face as you lifted your head. “Oh, cariño…” He put his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I’m okay, Frankie.” You said it but you didn’t mean it and Frankie knew that. When he opened his eyes there was an anger in them but also sadness.

“He hurt you,” he whispered. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“Frankie…no.” You shook your head and grabbed his face. “No.”

“He ever leave a mark?”

“It doesn’t matter now…”

“Did he?” he asked again and you nodded. “Where?” You slowly pointed to both of your cheeks then your left eye. Frankie moved your hand and kissed each spot you pointed to. And when you began crying again, he kissed your tears away. You never thought to use the word romantic to describe Frankie, but maybe you should start.

You eventually moved back to your seat though you preferred his lap over anything else. He started the car again and drove quietly, looking at you every once in a while. The closer you got to your house the more nervous you became but you weren’t sure if it was because you had to see your ex or if you were afraid Frankie would truly kill him.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asked as he turned down the road to your house and you nodded. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, I’ll be okay.” You smiled at him but you knew he wasn’t buying it. “Promise me you’ll control your temper.”

“Absolutely fucking not. I’ll make you any promise you want, just not that one.” He slowed down as he pulled up to the front of your house, spotting three other cars in the drive.

Your lawyer, your ex's lawyer, and your ex were all standing there waiting. You took a deep breath and Frankie squeezed your thigh. You hopped out of the truck and Frankie followed closely, bristling beside you.

“Let me-"

“Took you long enough,” your ex said then looked at Frankie like he was disgusted.

“Hello to you too, John.”

“This your new boyfriend?” He nodded at Frankie.

“Let’s just go in-"

“Could be,” Frankie cut in.

“Frankie…please,” you murmured.

“You could’ve done better, hon,” your ex added. Before you could speak, Frankie had stormed up to him and you shouted his name but there was no stopping him. He grabbed John by the collar and pulled him in very closely.

“I heard you like hitting women, hm? And if that’s the case then I’m already way better than you’ll ever be, you sorry sack of shit!”

“Can someone get this caveman off of me?” You closed your eyes at John’s words because you knew what was coming next. You heard a hit connect and opened your eyes in time to see John holding his nose. “He broke my fucking nose!”

“Dammit Frankie.” You ran over and grabbed him. “Go get in the car.”

“Next time you wanna hit someone come and find me,” Frankie said before turning and walking away.

“I’m pressing charges!” your ex yelled and you rolled your eyes.

“Won’t do any good. Now hurry up and go get your stuff and leave, please. It’s all in the garage so there’s no reason for you to go anywhere else.” You smirked at him cowering and holding his nose before walking back to the truck.

“Don’t look at me like that. I told you I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s lucky I didn’t do more.” He massaged his hand and you got in the truck.  

“Let me see.” You grabbed his hand carefully and looked at it. “It’s gonna be bruised but you’ll be okay. Definitely better than John’s gonna be. I think you actually broke his nose.”

“I know I did. I heard it.”

“He says he’ll press charges but I doubt it. If he does then we’ll deal with it.” You kissed his hand before letting it go.

“Fucking prick,” Frankie mumbled.

“That he is.”

“Is he the reason why you didn’t come back sooner?”

You nodded and sighed. “If I came back to town with a bunch of bruises on my face…”

“Back then I definitely would’ve killed him. I had nothing to lose." He looked at you. “But now…” Your lawyer knocked on the window making you jump. You rolled the window down and hoped he wasn’t going to tell you bad news.

“John is not going to press charges,” he said. “You’re lucky.”

“Thanks,” Frankie said without looking at him. He looked up and saw John walking out the garage with a box. His hands immediately balled into fists but you touched his arm and he relaxed.

“Take care,” your lawyer said as you stuck your arm out the window to shake his hand.

“Thanks. You too.” You made sure Frankie stayed in the car until all three men drove away. The way he glared at John’s car as he pulled away made you worry that maybe he would chase him down. “Let’s go inside.”

*

You sighed in relief and leaned against the door as soon as you closed it. “That was…something.” You watched as Frankie walked around the living room. He had calmed down now but you…you were on edge and not in the bad way. You breathed heavier and had to bite your lip to keep yourself from sounding like you were panting.

Frankie had always, always, been attractive to you and right now it seemed like you were discovering how handsome he was all over again. You needed to stop. It was time to cool down.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” You could hardly look at him as you zoomed past him and up the stairs.

“Guess I’ll take one too!” he shouted up to you.

In your bedroom, you undressed quickly and got in the shower. You stood there for a time doing nothing. Well, you thought of Frankie and how he was prepared to beat the crap out of someone. How he answered ‘could be' when John asked if he was your boyfriend. How he could be so gentle with you and so rough with someone else at the drop of a dime.

“Okay. Okay. Enough.” You washed yourself then turned the shower off. After wiping the mirror clean, you brushed your teeth then wrapped yourself in a towel. The last thing you were expecting to see was Frankie standing there in nothing but a towel but there he was. You stumbled backward slightly and put a hand to your chest.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. I just…I couldn’t find the, uh…” He tried his best to avert his eyes. “The robe from last time.”

“It wasn’t down there?” you asked. Obviously not, you idiot.

“No…but I’ll go check again.”

“Frankie wait!” You grabbed his arm and he turned to you again. “I just wanna…wanna say thank you for…what you did today was…”

“I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“I’m not.” You pulled his head closer so you could kiss him. At first, he hesitated but when he heard you moan, he lost whatever control he had. Your towel was slowly but surely loosening itself from around your body but it didn’t matter. His lips on yours, his hands on your body, that mattered.

When you started to push him backwards towards the bed, he craned his head to see where he was going. “Frankie. Kiss me.” His legs hit the bed and he fell onto it, staring up at your now naked body.

“I’ll kiss you,” he said then began kissing the first thing his lips could find: your stomach. You pulled him away and climbed onto his lap. “Where else?”

“Just fucking kiss me. Please,” you begged. This time the kiss was a little rougher, teeth and tongue. If you nipped at him, he nipped back. You moved back on his lap a little and slid your hand down the front of his towel. He grunted and pulled away from the kiss to watch your hand. There wasn’t much to see because of the towel but he sure could feel.

“Jesus…fuck...” He pulled your hand away with a growl then lifted you so he could put you down on the bed. “I gotta ask…are you this turned on over me punching your fucking ex?” He smirked.

“And other things,” you breathed trying to pull him in for a kiss but he resisted and sat up to look at you.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” His hands explored you, stopping at your breasts to gently pull on your nipples. You could tell he loved your reaction because he did it over and over again.

“Frankie, I need…”

“Need what?” he asked, leaning forward again and kissing your lips.

“I need you.”

“Are you sure you want this? Want me?” He kissed you again so you could only nod and make a sound of approval. “Need to hear it.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m so sure.” You wrapped your legs around him and used your feet to push his towel off.

“Thank God,” he said. “Been wanting this for so long. So bad.” He kissed you all over, slowly working his way down until you felt his hair tickling your inner thighs. He took your hand and laced his fingers with yours before nipping at your thigh.

“Please…”

“Keep looking at me. Keep holding my hand, okay?”

“Okay Frankie.” You looked down at him and he pushed his hair out his eyes.

“Good girl.” The praise alone was enough to make you tremble, but he was about to make you see stars and you didn’t even know it yet.

[six]

Tags: @cable-kenobi​ @saltywintersoldat​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @pedrosdoll​ @psychobillybunny​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts​ @thinemineours​ @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​

[buckaroosboogara]

911 week - Day 5:

“Can I tell you a secret?” + comfort

(1800~ words, Albert and Chimney, tw alcohol and mentions of addiction/addiction.)

@911week

"Albert, I don't know how or why, but if you don't want to be a firefighter anymore, just tell me." Chimney huffed.

"Well," Albert got up and stumbled with his feet. He gained composure and walked to the door. "I don't wanna be a firefighter. Father was right, I am useless. And just like him, an alcoholic. Now go away." 

Chimney flinched, "This is not you Albert, please..." 

"Well, what do you know about me, huh? We were apart for more than 20 years." Albert barked as he opened the door. 

"I'll come back." Chim said, walking outside. 

"Yeah, yeah."

Albert wanted to cry. 

He felt like the world was turning him into a living joke, only alive to make people laugh, and he hated it. 

He was a step closer to be out of the fire academy, and his instructor had warned him that if he made one mistake more, he would be out. 

First, his written test had an 80/100, he would have like to blame it on Jee and her strong lungs that woke him up four hours before his exam at 8, but he couldn't do that. It was also his fault for constantly delaying the time to study for it, until dinner of the very last night before the exam. 

Then, he decided to move in with Buck again, or better said, move to Buck's place since the other man was mostly at Eddie's place than his own flat, giving Maddie and Chimney the privacy they needed. They happened to go partying to celebrate Albert's birthday the night before a big Chief went unpromptedly to the academy, and Albert arrived late for the first time, just that day. 

And now... he definitely deserved to get kicked out. 

He filled his teammate's oxygen tank with the gases, mostly nitrogen and carbon monoxide, that the O2 truck's engine liberated. 

He almost killed the girl during their training. 

And he didn't have a father in an important charge or a politician mother to get him out of that trouble, like the story of a training firefighter in Chicago. 

His only consolation was that his teammate, Jennifer, the only woman in his class, was already at her home, and had texted him to say it was okay, she knew he didn't mean to hurt her. That he was a harmless cinnamon bun, whatever that meant. 

He went home after the furious instructor had made him leave the academy, having done enough harm for the day. 

He messaged Buck, briefly telling him he was home early, and threw himself on the couch, the weight of guilt crushing him down. 

Albert really wished Jennifer - or JJ, how she like her friends to call her, but Albert didn't consider himself one - would be okay and become a firefighter in the next two weeks, when their final physical exam would happen. 

He also didn't want to alarm Buck or Chimney, both were stressed enough, having to juggle between being at the station and covering shifts for the two people down and having to take care of Maddie, Eddie, and Bobby, with the last two assuring they didn't need their help. 

Between these thoughts he fell asleep, waking up some hours after, dreams of death and disappointment hunting him. 

He put his jacket on and looked for a bar near, doing the only thing he ever learned from his father. 

Drown his guilts in alcohol. 

... 

Chimney could feel something was wrong with his brother. 

No, he knew. 

The clues were right there. 

He wasn't calling as much as he used to do, and whenever Buck called and was at their loft, Albert was not there. 

That, plus Buck's comments about him arriving home very late and leaving very early, with dark eye bags and smelling of alcohol. Those comments didn't ease the feeling on Chimney's gut. 

He first tried to call him, day, noon, even at 3 am when he couldn't sleep during a shift. Nothing. 

Or, short messages telling him he would call later, but he never did. 

Chimney knew how close Albert was to be a firefighter, and he knew that last week was the worst one. He feared what it would do to his brother. 

So one day, the stars aligned and Buck saw Albert during the noon in their loft. He did what he could to keep him there and called Chimney to get there, he knew that Albert needed his brother rather than anyone else at that moment. 

As soon as Chimney arrived, Buck left the building and both men could speak for the first time in a week and a half. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go straight to the point." Chimney huffed as he closed the door behind Buck. "What the hell is going on with you?" 

"Nothing." Albert lied, sitting on the couch with a beer in hand. 

"Don't you dare lie to me. I know you and this is not you, Al. Talk to me." Chimney walked to the couch and stood in front of his brother. 

Albert avoided his look and kept quiet. 

Chimney huffed. "Look, the EMT in charge of the basic health support and procedures class, Eli, called me yesterday. He was glad another Han would become a firefighter, but then he told me you weren't there." 

He crouched in front of his brother. "Albert, I don't know how or why, but if you don't want to be a firefighter anymore, just tell me. You don't need to avoid me, or Buck, for the record. Talk to me." 

"Well," Albert got up and stumbled with his feet. He gained composure and walked to the door. "I don't wanna be a firefighter. Now go away." 

Chimney flinched, "This is not you Albert, please..." 

"Well, what do you know about me, huh? We were apart for more than 20 years." Albert barked as he opened the door. 

"I'll come back." Chim said, walking outside. 

"Yeah, yeah." 

The door shut.

Chimney wanted to cry.

... 

"Chimney! Nice to see you around for once, but why are you here?" Eli happily exclaimed when he saw Chim walking through the academy's halls the next morning. 

"Hey Eli, it's nice to see you too brother." Chimney rolled his eyes fondly and hugged the man. 

After making the appropriate small talk Chimney spoke, "I actually came here to ask about my brother..." 

"Albert Han?" Eli asked and checked the clipboard he carried with him. "Uh, he hasn't come to my class in a week. Since the oxygen tank accident, actually." 

Chim's mind stopped racing after the last sentence. "Oxygen tank accident?" 

The EMS gave him an odd look. "Yeah... everyone here knows about it. He accidentally filled his partner's tank with monoxide and other gases from the O2 truck's engine." 

Chimney took his hands to his eyes, too much information entering his brain, Eli continued. "She passed away during training and hit her head, but apart from that and the toxic inhalation she was perfect." 

"Shit. Okay, I would remember if he told me that." Chim shook his head. "And he hasn't come in a week?" 

"Not to my classes." Eli said. "I thought that maybe you'd teach him for the exam, therefore he wouldn't come but... I know you, there's something more." 

"Yeah. Just- I need to talk to him. Could you make sure they don't... you know... kick him out?" 

"I'll do what I can." Eli answered sincerely. "Hey, it seems like almost getting kicked out is a Han thing now." 

Chim winced. He had been very close... which actually gave him an idea. 

"I gotta go, Eli, thanks for the... uh.. for everything!" Chim said, slowly tracking back. "Bye!" 

... 

Albert heard a knock on the door and groaned. 

He waited for whoever was there to give up and walk away, but the person kept insisting. 

"Open up Albert, I know you are there!" Chimney's voice sounded from the hall. 

"Ugh, go away!" Albert huffed as he took a bottle of beer from the fridge. 

"I'm not going away Albert. I'm going to stay here until Buck arrives or you open the door." 

"So stubborn." 

"Just like you." 

Albert thought of his options. He could either wait or let his brother in and drive him away in minutes and he would be alone again. 

He sighed as he opened the door. "Happy now?" 

"No. I need you to talk to me, Albert." Chimney got inside. "I know about the accident. It's not your fault, look-" 

"If you know, then you know it is my fault. She could have died. I could have killed her. It's not that I don't want to be a firefighter. I can't be one." Albert blurted out, his cheeks red from embarrassment. 

"Albert..." 

"And it's not just that- it's that every one of my written tests is marked only with an 80%, I can't seem to be there in time and then I almost killed one of my classmates, my friend. And- And I just- I feel like giving up." He took a swing of his beer. "And I did. Father was right, I am useless. And just like him, an alcoholic." 

He made a sad smile and continued drinking. 

"No, you are much more than that Albert." Chimney said, taking the bottle from his hand. "And you would make an amazing firefighter, don't ever doubt that." 

Albert rolled his eyes and huffed, making his way to the couch. Chim followed and sat on the coffee table in front of his brother. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" Chim asked after some seconds of silence. 

"Go ahead." 

"I almost got kicked out too." 

Albert scanned his expression. "You're lying." 

"The hell I'm not." Chim huffed. "Being a firefighter was the thing that kept me going for many years. Until I met Maddie. But, believe it or not, I almost got kicked out for not asking for help and being a jerk." 

"I was struggling in the written exams too. Almost failing, while Kevin got all 95s and 100s. I got jealous and was too proud to ask him for help. Then I started having problems with the higher levels. But one day..." Chimney smiled. "One day Chief Aadav Panikkar, yeah, Ravi's father, called me to his office. And he helped me." 

A tear slipped down Chimney's cheek. Albert ducked his head. 

"I wanna help you, Albert." 

"And, yeah, I'm gonna be realistic. You have little chance to graduate next week, but if we work hard and have a little luck, you will be able to." Chimney said, "And if you don't. Then you are going to kick ass with my help the next time you can apply to the academy. And we are going to AA. Okay? But we are going to do it together." 

Albert's lips contracted in a fine line. 

"Okay." When he looked up again, Chimney could see his eyes glowing with tears. "Thanks, Howie. I love you." 

Albert got up and waited for Chim to do the same and hugged him. 

"I love you too little brother," Chimney said, hugging his brother tightly. 

They had a long way ahead of them, but together they were strong enough to get through it. 

... 

Despite all their efforts, Albert couldn't complete the training the first time, and it hurt, not just to the Han brothers, but to the whole 118. 

Two weeks later they met with Bobby for a reunion with ex-alcoholics. 

Six months later, Albert finished his last physical test, and the 118 was on top of the exam building, waiting for him. 

He not only was in his official probationary year, but he learned that he had a family now. 

A family that was with him throughout all those hellish months. 

That was what the 118 was. Family.