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penvisions · 1 year ago

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return the favor {chapter 9}

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Finding a safe place to rest of the night has its challenges, but everyone relaxes once it's secured.

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical gore, description of injuries, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, sexual themes, nicotine, smoking, cigarettes, age gap (reader is in their 30′s, Joel is 56)

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

You were a touch too woozy for comfort, lights were dancing across your vision chasing away the dark spots from earlier. You followed behind them, as alert as you could be while Joel guided you through a few buildings before there was too much movement about the streets. The commotion of the truck, that group attacking you, and then the subsequent shoot out was too much for the quiet city you had driven into. The trap was just the beginning, something felt so off about the whole environment, and not just because the QZ had seemingly been overrun or taken over or fallen. Whatever happened to it, whatever happens to every QZ that fails, is always monumentally bad.

“Those weren’t FEDRA people, no badges or uniform clothing. But they had assault weapons that FEDRA tends to keep to themselves.” You spoke in a hushed tone, stopping movement to lean back against the wall of the hallway you were currently walking down. You leaned your head back on the wall, closing your eyes and bringing your hands up to fix your collar, colt going into its holster for a second.

Your fingers gripped the collar of your jacket, the hoodie underneath it beginning to be too much in the effort to catch your breath. You were trying not to pant, but not being able to breathe through your nose always stressed you out.

“Maybe the people rioted, took it over?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why the whole city is free range.”

“There’s no infected either.” Ellie pipped up, she was crouched down and leaning against the wall, her arms resting on her legs and her hands dangled from atop her knees. You looked her over, making sure she wasn’t injured despite the redness to her eyes and the pink blotches that you noticed graced her face when she was emotional. You busied yourself with your pack, getting a small tin from it. You opened it to reveal a small collection of hand rolled cigarettes. You tucked one between your lips before putting the tin back in its safe spot of the pack. You reached into your front pants pocket for a lighter. When you looked back up from your ministrations, Joel was frowning at you.

“What?” You lit the end of the rolled paper, making sure it caught and made its way to the crudely ground tobacco. You frowned back at him on an exhale, aiming it down the hallway opposite of where Ellie was sitting. “I can’t feel my face and I just need a few drags to calm my nerves.”

“Why do you even have those?”

“Because they’re good for trade…and to smoke sometimes.” You took another drag, the nicotine distracting you from the reality of not being able to feel your face, you hadn’t lied about that. There was a smear of blood on the roll when you lifted it from your lips. The red caught Joel’s attention and his brow furrowed even more. “You can’t tell me you’ve never smoked, Joel Miller. That would be a bold-faced lie if I ever heard one.”

He didn’t say anything, but at his fixed frown you took one more drag before putting out the cigarette on the floor. When you straightened up, your face began to tingle. You clenched your eyes shut as tears built up, not wanting them to run down along your nose and get into the wound. You needed to clean it up the next chance you got, there was no doubt dirt and debris from the ground mixed in with the blood that had dried up in your nose and around it.

“I’m gonna look for a bathroom or a mirror, I’ve got to get this cleaned up.” You said as you moved to pick your pack back up. You hauled it over your shoulder and reached for your colt. At Joel’s nod, all three of you continued to move through the building. It ended up just being an office space. The next one was where you struck a bit of luck, the door off the alley you had opened to a kitchen space. The ground level of the building turned out to have been a bar or restaurant. You quietly praised the space, helping to clear it alongside Joel. It was deemed safe enough and you disappeared into the old bathroom space, the mirror cracked but still of use. Joel and Ellie opted to wait up in the front of the building, where they had a hidden view of the street behind newspaper plastered glass.

You left the door open, for both light and to be able to hear them should anything happen. You placed your pack atop the toilet in the room, it being a general single use bathroom and not one with stalls. The clink of the metal on the straps reverberated in your head and you winced. You dug down to the bottom of the pack, taking out a faded first aid kid. The red fabric of the kit was soft under your fingers as you unzipped it and took out what you needed from it. Three alcohol wipes, a dry wipe, a pack of antibiotic cream, and a pack of pain relief cream. You tried for the tap, just in case, but when it didn’t yield any water you thought that was for the best. No telling how dirty it was. You used one of the antibiotic wipes on your hands before beginning the painful process of clearing the blood from your face.

You could hear the two of them having a quiet conversation between themselves, you thought you heard a sniffle, but you couldn’t be sure. You weren’t sure what happened to the last man that had downed both you and Joel, but Ellie had been involved somehow despite the whole goal of the ordeal was for her to hide while you two took care of it. And while you didn’t like the thought of the girl wielding a gun, it was something she would need to learn eventually. Today being the prime example. If you and Joel were outnumbered or caught off guard she wouldn’t necessarily be helpless, but you did want her to have some skills she could rely on to get her out of situations.

You took a second to assess the damage done: your nose was swollen, purple bruise marks already darkening your skin. There was a deep cut low on the bridge of your nose, just before your nostrils that had begun bleeding when you had cleared the caked on dirt. There was a deep scrape on the point of your nose from when it had hit the ground hard that you dabbed with the creams. The thin hoodie you had on was now littered with droplets of it, the dark material just looking wet instead of taking on the hue of blood any other color would’ve. You had taken off your tan jacket to get better movement of your arms, shoulders sore from being pulled and hitting the ground in the scuffle. The scrape on your forehead from a week prior had been torn open anew, but it was already scabbed over with it being so shallow. All in all, you looked worse than you felt.

When you came out of the bathroom, you caught the tail end of something. Ellie was sitting down by the windows, against the low wall near the door on the ground. She had a handgun you hadn’t previously seen gripped in two hands, while Joel crouched in front of her and had his hands over hers. He shook the gun in their combined grip, causing the girl to laugh a little when she didn’t lose hers on it with the action.

You put your pack beside Ellie’s where it rested at the foot of a table near them. Joel looked up at you, his eyes taking in the bruises on your face. The smooth, open expression he had been giving Ellie not melting away as he turned back to her where she was moving the gun around to get a feel for it. “Okay?”

You both watched while he took the gun back from her and loaded it back up and made sure it wasn’t jammed before holding it up. The barrel of it was in his hand, the handle held out for her to take it. You moved to take a look out the window through some tears in the newspaper. She glanced at your back before she moved to do so. Once it was back in her hand, she went to put the firearm in the waistband of her baggy jeans.

“Uh-uh. You put it in your pack.” Joel’s tone held no room for argument as he went to stand up, a small groan leaving him at the discomfort in his knees. “You’ll shoot your damn ass off.”

He walked around the small corner to peer out the door, boards of wood making a barrier along the length of it. Ellie watched him, waiting until he was preoccupied with tearing one down before she moved to put the gun in the pocket of her jacket. She jumped when she felt your hand on her shoulder and she whipped around to see you watching her with hard eyes. She was worried for a split second you were going to repeat Joel’s words but you nodded at her once to let her know it was okay. She nodded back as she did so, her arms reaching out to hug you quickly before going to grab her pack.

You both lined up beside Joel, the man having taken down two more boards from the door. His hands were heavy where he leaned them on the long handle of the door. He turned to look at you both where his head was ducked a bit as he leaned over the handle, eyes serious and expression schooled into one he hoped would be comforting. There was a swirl of emotions behind his eyes that made your stomach flutter. He was genuinely worried, the unknown situation outside in the city unnerving. “We’ll get through this.”

Ellie didn’t move but you could tell she was reading him, something having passed between them while you had stepped away. But whatever it was, it was ultimately an understanding of each other. She felt you reach out and put a hand on her shoulder, one of her own coming up to squeeze at it before she spoke. “I know.”

“She stays in the middle, we don’t make a move without telling the other.”

“Copy that.”

With a nod from Joel, the door was pushed open and the three of you cautiously walked out into the street.

It was dark by the time you had managed to cross the few blocks across the city to the building Joel had deemed the spot for the night. It was a taller building, with enough floors to give you a view of the city to plan an escape route. It was a residential one, lofts or condos that you had waited to be ‘cleared’ by the foot traffic scrambling around the city. You hadn’t heard or seen vehicles since night had fallen, making it riskier to move from building to building. You were standing guard at the end of an alley, a few cars scattered down on the next block of it while Joel tried to shimmy a door open.

When it didn’t budge, he looked around, the only possible way in was a small window high up a few paces away from the door itself. He called your name softly. You turned to watch him nod at the small opening up on the wall.

“Uh, I don’t think I’ll fit through there.” You grimaced, embarrassed at having to admit that.

“It looks like I could, so why couldn’t you?” Ellie turned to you, unsure where your usual confidence had disappeared to. The combined stares of them both had your skin prickling, a blush surely making its home along your cheeks.

“Well, uh, I’ve got a little more…” You waved a hand up and down your front, words getting stuck in your throat as Joel’s expression turned from confused to a controlled blank as he followed the motion of your hand. His mind decided to remind him of how soft the underside of your breasts had been right at that moment. A grunt of acknowledgement sounded like it got stuck in his throat as he looked back at the window. “I could’ve fit back when I was your age, maybe.”

“What’re you- oh. Oh!” Ellie’s flush matched yours high on her cheeks as she quickly averted her eyes from your body. She hadn’t really given it much thought, but despite the same height and general frame of body… there were very noticeable differences in the swell of your chest and the flare of your hips. She looked up at the window and yeah, you were right. She was going to have trouble herself.

“Alright, you or me?” You looked to Joel, stepping away from the entrance to the alleyway. Joel’s attention snapped back to you.

“’M gonna give her a lift.” He saw the minute way your brow creased and the way your dimple disappeared as the open expression left your face. His next words stamped out the hot, harsh words that were about to fly out of your mouth at his insinuation of you not being strong enough to lift Ellie up to the window. “Your shoulders gotta hurt.”

“Man, I thought she was about to tear you a new one.” A nervous laugh from Ellie sounded. “That was a pretty nice save.”

“He’s safe for now.” You huffed, pretending to be more upset than you were to lighten the mood. Joel’s eyes tracked the twinkle in your own as you looked resolutely away from him and back to the surrounding environment. Your skin was prickling, nerves on edge as you suddenly felt like someone was watching you. You looked up toward the buildings across the alley, the abandoned vehicles lining the old streets. “Let’s make this quick, I don’t wanna be out here much longer.”

You heard Joel and Ellie shuffle as they huddled underneath the window. The first attempt had Ellie tumbling down toward the ground and Joel struggling to keep a hold on her.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Straighten up. I got you.” Joel’s voice was gentle, soft to avoid drawing attention. But it was endearing, how his tone was open with the young girl. The second attempt was successful, Ellie slammed the butt of flashlight Marlene had put in her pack into the window. The board that was keeping it shut gave way easily and crashed loudly to the floor. Once her legs were through the window, hopefully not tethering her in a weird suspension with the window so high up, she let out a heavy breath from exertion.

“Okay, I’m in.”

“Take a look around first.” Joel reminded her, the very real fear of having just catapulted her into danger not sitting right with him. The residential buildings had been picked over already but that didn’t mean it was clean and clear of threats. There was the clanking of her scrambling down the wall and loud thumps of whatever she was moving about, the beam of the flashlight glinting off the wall above the window before disappearing. “Ellie. Goddammit.”

Joel readied his gun at her lack of response. He strode towards the door, ready to kick it in or shoot the lock off to get inside. You closed the distance between you two, back to his back should anything happen. But the second he was in front of it, it swung open with a smooth movement.

“Where would you be without me, huh?”

He schooled his expression from tactical to a glare, not liking how fast his heart was racing in his chest at having been separated from the young girl for less than a minute. He glanced over at you, and your expression was pinched as well. All that noise was too loud, it having echoed down the alley and up the buildings. He watched the way your eyes shifted all around, tracking any possible movement that could signal trouble. Your boots were quiet as you followed him through the door.

“By now, Wyoming.”

“Or at least Colorado.”

“Oh, yeah. Walked into that one.”

The room was large, a van parking in the middle of the big space. It looked like a linen delivery truck, if you had to guess. Seemed like a catch all, maintenance area, Joel took the lead to cross it, you coming up behind Ellie, sandwiching her in between you both. He trained the flashlight on the doors at the other side of the room. One led to the main part of the building and the ground floor street entrance while the other led to the stairwell.

“Alright. We’ll make our way up, and come morning, I’ll take a look at the city and find our way out.”

The creak of the door to the stairwell was loud.

“We’re goin’ up forty-two flights?” Ellie asked, trying to peer into the darkness around Joel. He turned back to glance at her, making sure you were right behind them, the light never leaving the space in front of hie.

“Forty-five.” He stepped into the center of the stairwell, aiming the flashlight up into the middle of the spiraling climb. It was daunting, to say the least. The stairs would be a challenge any day but in the dark and trying to keep as silent as possible? That made the task even harder. Your face throbbed, nose tingling as if in response to the physical activity of climbing the stairs. You could breathe through it okay enough, but if you took a deep inhale it didn’t feel good. You thought you had some numbing cream in your bag but you’d wait until you were stopped for the night before digging through the packed thing.

“But no, not all the way.” Joel changed his mind as he realized the climb would mess with his knees more than he’d like to admit. Actually seeing the spiral of the staircase pinged his plan down a notch.

The day had been too long and too much had happened for everyone to realistically get that high up into the building.

“How far?” Ellie’s voice sounded so small, so childlike in that moment. Your hand flew to your stomach, feeling phantom movement from a time passed. You gasped a little too loud, the sound choked as you reached a hand to rest against the wall. They both whipped around at the sound, to see you nearly doubled over, eyes closed and expression pinched. Joel moved to hover over you in an instant.

“Hey now,” He handed the flashlight to Ellie and moved to kneel in front of you, trying to catch your eyes when they opened back up. They were distant. He called your name and watched as they cleared. Your mind snapped back to reality in an instant and your hand dropped from where it was pressed against your stosmach. The smile you gave him didn’t reach your eyes but you seemed more composed than a second ago. His brows furrowed in confusion, not quite sure what the hell had just happened but didn’t want to trigger you by pushing. There were just some things you didn’t ask other people.

“I’m okay, just waning adrenaline.” He took the lie for what it was.

“Okay.” He pushed back up, the soft palms of your hands helping him as he did so. His next words were an attempt to lighten the mood as he took the first few steps, boots solid on the concrete of them.

“As far as I can make it.”

It seemed to work as Ellie’s laughter sprinkled the air.

You were trying not to show just how damn hard you were breathing, the heavy breaths falling from your open mouth as you continued to climb up stair after stair after stair… You didn’t think you were doing a good job, but in your defense neither was Joel. The man was leading you and Ellie flight after flight of stairs. His pants punctuated by sparse grunts as he pushed on and up, seeming to need just the right floor in order to stop. You watched as Ellie wasn’t doing much better, her chest heaving with her huffing. You had suggested stopping at twenty-five and then thirty but it had been ignored as Joel trudged on.

“Hey you know that guy who said he was hurt?” Ellie wasn’t out of breath enough to be silent, which good for her, meant she had good stamina in her younger age. You weren’t sure if either you or Joel would be able to keep up conversation and keep moving at the same time. “How did you guys know it was an ambush?”

You were correct in your assumption when Joel paused, leaning heavily on the banister beside him, hunched over as he tried to control his breathing enough to answer. Ellie stopped a few steps below him, you a few more below her. Your vision was blurry at the exertion, but it wasn’t enough to warrant panic.

“I’ve been on both sides.” He looked up at her for a second before hunching back over. “It was a long time ago. We did what we needed to survive.”

“You and Tess?” She asked quietly, genuinely. Joel looked to her, needing her to understand a little more about how the world operated outside the confines of quarantine.

“And the people we were with. My brother too.” He looked up the stairwell, her earnest curiosity a little too much for him to look head on and be honest with her lest she see him differently. He wanted her to know he would keep her safe, but he didn’t want her to be afraid of him or the things he’s done to keep himself safe.

“Did you kill innocent people?” Her question hung in the air.

He looked back at her, catching her eyes. Reading the innocence and genuine concern there was too much for him, he was right in thinking so. He didn’t answer, not wanting to confirm it so concretely. He turned away from her and began to walk again.

“C’mon.”

She looked back to you, the question for you as well. You straightened up, giving her your full attention so she understood what you were about to say.

“Sometimes, there is no way to know someone is innocent. And sometimes, you feel the regret of your decisions so fully that it urges you to be better.” She was quiet as she looked you over, turning back around to watch Joel lead nearly half a flight ahead now. You hoped she understood that sometimes the world was cruel, and you fell in line along with it. But that doesn’t make anyone one thing, good or bad, just human.

Joel deemed the next floor the right one to stop, he leaned heavily on the door leading to the hallway as he opened it. Making sure Ellie was through before, he let you take the weight of the door from his hands.

“Holy shit.” Ellie panted.

“Yeah.” Joel’s gravelly response was short as he slid his back down the wall beside the door and settled in a heap on the ground, the flashlight in his hand resting on the ground. He was breathing a touch too heavy for your liking. You closed the door behind you and knelt in front of him. You reached into your pack’s front zipper, arm twinging as you reached around to do so. You presented Joel with an inhaler, the bright orange of the plastic breathing apparatus on it catching him off guard. He took it from you without question, not too prideful to ignore the act of thoughtful kindness from you. The small smile that graced your lips was just as good as the feeling of the medicine entering his lungs.

“Thirty-three floors. That’s good.” Ellie watched you stand, and move to lean on the wall opposite her, she was worried about how flushed your face was. But it couldn’t have been easy to breathe through your mouth the whole way up, deep breathing hurting your broken nose. The bruises were dark on your skin, the small butterfly bandages you had placed on the gashes a little wet with fresh blood.

“It’s gonna have to be.” His voice was less gruff, the medicine working to help him catch his breath a little easier. You thought it was sweet the way she was trying to make him feel a little better about how hard that had been to get all the way up here. Because honestly, it had taken a good while. All three of you took a minute to let your breathing calm down some, panting sounding across the entire hall.

“Come on.” Ellie walked over to him, she kicked his boot with her foot gently and reached out a hand.

“Gimme a minute.” He grunted, still leaning heavily against the wall where he sat. She ignored him, hand still in front of his face as he turned to look up at her with a stern frown.

“Get up, ya lazy ass.” They stared at each other for a moment while you tried to hide your quiet laugh behind your hand. Joel moved the flashlight to his left hand and grabbed at her outstretched one with his right. He made a lot of noise as she “pulled” him up and he pushed himself back up to his feet.

“Lazy ass.” He glanced at you as he passed, noticing how you were enjoying her words a little too much as a smirk had broken out across your lips. He looked back over his shoulder at Ellie, her eyes not catching his as she laughed. “Fifty-six years old, you little shit.”

“I mean, that’s about when people decide to be lazy for the rest their lives pre-Outbreak.” Yours and Ellie’s giggles followed behind him as he began to walk down the dark hall, flashlight aimed to let him see ahead. He couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips.

The sound of Joel breaking up the glass was loud, worrying you despite how deserted the building was this high up. You had both urged Ellie to hide while you cleared the entire floor. There were four condos on each floor it seemed. Two on either side of the hallway. You were a little disappointed that they hadn’t had anything in the cabinets for food, but with how modern the furniture seemed to be, you doubted the place had been leasing when the world fell. It had probably been staged to premiere to the public early the following year but the world had fallen in September.

He had taken a small trash can from one of the kitchens and was punching out the frosty glass panels of the entrance way doors into it. You held the trash can while he used his flashlight butt to do so, both of you having tied bandanas around your faces to protect from stray shards of glass. You were tempted to take out your glasses as well, but thought better of it at the phantom pain of setting them on the gashed bridge of your nose.

Once all the panels were broken, Joel gently took the trashcan from your grasp and began to lay out the glass in front of the front door to the condo you had deemed safe for the night. Ellie busied herself with taking the cushions from the couch and laying them down into makeshift beds for everyone. Joel had the larger ones, thought you doubted he would sleep much again. You moved to take a seat in one of the armchairs of the living room, Ellie having sat atop her own makeshift bed. You both watched him as he continued to lay the glass out across the floor, sharing a meal of expired fruit strips and jerky. Joel had declined the offered food from your pack.

“Joel.” Ellie called. She repeated his name a second time, and then a third louder than the first two. He finally seemed to hear her and was a little heated when he turned around to face you both, trashcan still in his hand. It was understandable that he was irritated at her tone, but he hadn’t heard her softer calls, something that made your chest spark with concern. All that gunfire earlier definitely hadn’t helped his already bad waning hearing, and your concussion had yours tunneled all day too.

“What?” He matched her tone and volume.

“What are you doing?” She was sure there was a reason, but she was apt to let you two do what you were going to do and then bother you about it to quell her curiosity.

“I don’t want someone sneakin’ up on us while we’re sleepin’.” He set the empty trashcan down with a thud and walked over to where Ellie had set everything up for the night.

“Oooh, I get it. Crunch, crunch, crunch.” She wrung her hands in her lap. She looked back at you, a silent question passing between you both. You nodded at her, hoping he would be a little more receptive to her pointing out what was becoming increasingly obvious over you doing so.

“Of course I’ll hear it. That’s the damn point.” He turned to stare at you both, hands on his hips as he took in the concerned slant to your expression and the slightly worried one on Ellie. He narrowed his eyes in a glare, not liking the doubt you two exhibited.

“Okay.” Ellie acquiesced, flopping down to lay along the cushions she was sitting on. “Well, goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” He grumbled, removing his jacket from his shoulders. He folded it up and put it atop the cushions in front of him. He turned his attention to you, looking away from the girl as she got comfortable for the night. He motioned to the cushions beside Ellie’s a good five feet separating them. There had only been enough cushions for two makeshift beds. You had assured her earlier that it would be okay, saying you still had your own sleeping pad in your pack.

“Oh no, I’m okay. Shoulders hurt too much to lay flat.” You gushed, shaking off his concern for your position in the armchair. Your legs were pulled up under you and crossed, pack nestled right in front of the chair, leaning against it. You were still munching on the fruit strips, the mouthpiece to the water pack that nestled into your pack held between your fingers in your lap. He grunted as he closed the distance and settled where your pack had been, pushing it to the side a little. He took the mouthpiece from you, taking a big gulp of the water from the reservoir in your pack.

“Your pack is heavy.” He didn’t mean anything by it, just an observation. He had lost his in the scramble of earlier and he hated to think of his clothes and what little belongings he had divided up among the people who were currently scouring the city for him. Your pack was an old, faded black REI co-op backpacking bag. A perfect fit for you, he thought. He took the piece of dried fruit that was presented to him, the gummy texture and flavor of green apples hitting his tastebuds. He took another draw of water.

You looked over at Ellie, her back to you as she tried to sleep, before running your hands through the curls atop Joel’s head. His hair had been dusty all day, you ran your fingers through the curls to dislodge the dirt and debris. Your nails scraped along his scalp and you could hear his teeth clack as his mouth snapped shut. He nudged his head back a little, silently urging you on. Once his hair was mostly clear, you began to massage his temples as well, hands soothing. After a few moments you shifts and leaned back into the armchair more, hands trailing down the back of his head and along the bridge of his broad shoulders.

He made noises of discomfort as he got up. He traced a hand along one of your knees before he turned away and moved to settle atop the second bed, right next to where the glass led up to. He shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable. He could feel Ellie’s gaze on his back, him having laid to face the entrance into the condo, the girl not yet asleep. His left side up to hear better.

“Hey.” His voice was hushed.

“Yeah?” Her voice was similar, hushed in the quiet of the room.

“When we were talkin’ about hurtin’ people, what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?” He had been thinking about it during the trudge up the stairs, her question having started the line of thought. He didn’t like the idea of her having to defend herself physically, hand to hand or otherwise. He must’ve hit a nerve with his question because he could hear her shift and the heaviness of her gaze on him disappeared.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice was closed off, no room for further discussion. You cracked an eye open to watch her look up at the ceiling. Joel had turned his head slightly toward her as well. The tone taking you both off guard as she was normally so willing to talk.

“Alright.” He turned to face her, not thinking twice about trying to provide some comfort to her in the suddenly tense situation. His arms were crossed as he looked her over, she was visibly tense. He glanced at you, you watching over her from your spot. His next words were cautious but genuine. “You don’t have to. I’m just sayin’, it isn’t fair at your age. Havin’ to deal with all of this.”

“So it gets easier when you get older?” She turned to look at him, wanting to take the comfort he was trying to provide.

“No, not really.” She turned away from him, his look too intense as it read the emotions playing across her face. “But still.”

“The reason I asked whether you’d hear the glass or not is cause I’ve noticed you don’t hear too well from your right side.” She turned to face him fully, body shifting as she moved to her side, arms coming up to rest beside her face. She spoke your name, though your eyes were closed once again and you were just listening to the two talk. “She pointed it out to me back at the house, said to show respect and not mumble so you could hear me properly. Is it cause you were shot there?”

“Probably more from shootin’. So if you wanna keep your hearin’, you stick to that knife.” He didn’t look at either of you as he turned away to face the door again, a little agitated that you would both discuss him like that, though consciously he knew it was harmless.

“Joel?” He hummed in response, not too keen on talking anymore. “Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

He turned his head toward her, not sure where the new line of conversation was going. You felt warmth blossom in your chest as you recognized this as Ellie trying to lighten the mood, the joke from her book of puns. Joel, however, was just confused. “What?”

“Yeah,” She sighed, convincing as she prepared to deliver the punchline. “It runs in your jeans.”

Joel turned more to get a better look at her, his face disbelieving as realization dawned on him. Yours and Elli’s snickers had him turning back as a wide smile broke out across his face and he tried not to huff a laugh at the absurdity that was his life right now. He was trapped in high rise of condos, the entirety of the free city that just killed off the whole of FEDRA frantically searching for him because he fought off an ambush, and here he was laid out with two of the most confusing and endearing people who decided to offer him head scratches and dumbass puns to ground him after a long day.

“Jesus.” He huffed; voice quiet. A breathy laugh bubbled from his chest. He tried to keep his tone even but he didn’t think he was successful. “That is so goddamn stupid.”

“You laughed, motherfucker.”

“I didn’t laugh.”

“Yes, you did.” You and Ellie said in unison, through your bouts of giggles.

“Jesus, I’m losin’ it.”

“You’re losin’ it big time.” Her voice was so light, so genuinely entertained. It was another second before Joel lost what little composure he had and he was laughing along with you both without any inhibition, his shoulders shaking where he lay.

Joel’s figure appeared in the doorway of bedroom, his shadow stretching across the floor as he crossed the room. He’d heard you toss and turn for a good while before you had finally given up on sleep and had gotten up and left the room. You were in the bathroom, a lantern turned on and emitting a soft, disjointed light around the large bathroom. You were still, hands braced on the lip of the sink counter, head hanging low. He watched you look up, eyes trained on your face in the long mirror that stretched the entirety of the vanity.

Your eyes took in the bruises that were decorating your face, the dark purple and blue tinged skin sensitive to the touch as you reached up to lightly press your fingers to it. You didn’t wince, instead you pressed your fingers harder into the skin, your eyes shutting at the pain that blossomed at the action. A small whimper fell from your lips as you held your hand there, feeling the pain wash over you, needing to feel something. You sighed, your hand going back to the counter.

The feeling of seeing you pinned to the ground flashed in Joel’s mind, making his next step falter. You whipped around at the scuff of his boot on the floor, arms going for the gun holster on your waist. You had moved too fast, the motion causing a small wave of vertigo to slam into you, you scrambled to reach for the counter with your right hand before you went down. Joel rushed forward to try and catch you, not intending to have startled you so. His hands were large and warm where they grasped at around your ribs, helping you down to the ground for a softer landing. He kneeled down before you, making sure your back was to the cabinets underneath the sink for support. He moved a hand to cup your face, careful not to snag on any of the scrapes or brush the bruises decorating it.

“Hey, hey, didn’t mean for that to happen.” He was about to remove his hands from you to give you some breathing space when one of your own came to rest on his wrist, the other reaching for the hem of his flannel. A comforting thing, he realized. Contact that wasn’t physical but still allowed you to ground yourself being able to hold onto it. “You really should be resting.”

“I could say the same about you.” Your eyes were clear when they opened and gazed at him. You were tired sure, from the events of the day, but they weren’t swirling with the same emotions when you had been inspecting your reflection in the mirror. He wasn’t sure what you could see in his own. “I just, this city feels so weird. It’s making me even more anxious than if it was just full of infected.”

He nodded, the image of you being held down flashed in his mind’s eye. His brow burrowed, his grasp on you tightening as his thoughts turned cold at what he was willing to do to keep you safe. Your grip on the hem of his shirt and wrist tightened and you pulled up to close what little space was between your bodies as he pushed forward to meet you. His lips connected with yours in a bruising kiss, teeth clacking with the force of it.

You hissed as your face scrunched up, pain blossoming from your nose and into your cheeks. Joel quickly drew back, worried he might have done something wrong or read the situation wrong.

“I’m sorry, I d-“

“Do not apologize for kissing me.” Your eyes were heated as you looked at him, trying to catch his gaze as he looked over you to make sure everything was okay. You tugged on the hem of his shirt to urge him to close the gap again, not wanting the moment to disappear. You reassured him just before your lips met in a softer kiss, though no less heated. “Just bumped my nose, motherfuckers’ shattered it.”

You both moved against each other, being mindful of it, focusing on the plush give of each other’s lips.

Joel moved to sit on the ground against the cabinet as you had been, helping you to shift onto his lap. He pushed the jacket off of your shoulders as your hands frantically mirrored the movement before remembering he had removed his to use as a pillow. Your fingers fumbled as the flannel buttons were fighting underneath them as you refused to stop the barrage of needy kisses.

The older man huffed a laugh before he moved to lift the black hoodie up, breaking the stream of kisses he had been returning just as greedily. His tongue swiped across his lips, tasting the lingering touch of nicotine from your earlier cigarette. Your hands were back fumbling at his shirt he second the hoodie was up and over your head, hair a mess and falling from the bun it had been in. His hands came up to grasp at your own, taking over unfastening the buttons and removing the flannel from his torso, leaving him in just his faded white undershirt. He took in the way you began to move your hips against him, grinding down on the hard length of him through the fabric of his pants as you reached up to free your hair completely.

He took advantage of the moment and tugged at the hem of your long sleeve Henley, the fabric soft in his hands. You moved your hips against him, soft pants beginning to sound in the bathroom. Joel took your hands in one of his own and leaned up a little, he held you firm to him as he leaned forward a bit and reached for the door to the bathroom. He didn’t shut it completely but made sure it was mostly closed to dull the sounds between the living room and the bathroom that was off the master bedroom of the apartment. He was confident you were up enough floors that no one would come looking for anyone this late. But he didn’t want Ellie to hear anything and come looking.

You used the momentum of him leaning forward to grind down on him harder, knees tight around him and thighs clenching with the effort. You leaned into him to place a long lick along the line of his throat, earning a low growl that you could feel in his chest where you were pressed up to him. You took that as a sign to place sucking kisses along his neckline, nudging the collar of his shirt out of the way so they could be hidden from view. He let out a low moan as he settled back against the cabinets.

“Can I?” His words were low, rough, voice shooting straight down into your stomach and sparking electricity there. His hands were on the hem of your shirt. You nodded, placing one last little nip to his collarbone before tearing your mouth from him and lifting the shirt from your body. That left you in your cargo pants and a racerback tank top. The movement of taking off the long sleeve had rucked up your tank top, the fabric wrinkled and misplaced to reveal a bit of black lace that made up your bra. The tease of it made Joel throb where you were firmly pressed against him. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, needing to feel the exact same thing but skin to skin, inside you if you could convince him of that.

“You can do whatever you want.” You sat atop his lap more firmly, hands resting on his chest as you took a moment to catch your breath. Your lips were kiss swollen and there was a pink tint to your cheeks, your skin was hot to the touch. You were worked up because of him. He dove forward to nose along the column of your neck, soft curls tickling his face as he did so. One of his hands came up to gently tug your hair, causing a wanton moan to fall from your lips as your head was pulled back to expose more of your throat for Joel to lavish. He kissed and licked, nibbled along your collarbone before rucking up the tank top and palmed your chest through the fabric of your bra. His eyes closed at the sensation of how soft you were, how you filled his hands so fully, the weight of your breasts heavy in his large hands. He brushed his thumbs over where your nipples were hard against the fabric.

Your breath hitched, hands tangling in his steel curls as he dared to move his hands underneath the bra completely and your soft skin was being teased by the callousness of his palms, urged on by your shallow breaths. He pushed the softly lined bra up to bunch with your tank top underneath your arms and opened his eyes to watch your mouth fall open in a breathy moan when he brought his mouth to one nipple and took it into his mouth to suck at the sensitive bud. Your hips bucked against him, and he couldn’t help but feel warmth pooling in his stomach, electricity sparking in his whole body as your hips stuttered against him while he took his time to taste and lick at your chest. He felt himself get harder and he lifted his hips up to meet yours as they moved against him.

“Joel, I-I…” Your head fell back a bit as he placed a harsh bite to the swell of your breast below a nipple, the skin there so soft on his exploring tongue. He snaked a hand down to your pants, unbuttoning them and shoving his hand down the front to run his fingers along your slit through your underwear. The fabric was damp underneath his fingers and he groaned at the thought of slipping into them and filling you up. You choked out your next word, his fingers sending tingles all over your body. “Please.”

“Up.” He commanded, removing his hands from you completely. You pushed yourself up fast, hands quickly unzipping and shucking the pants from your legs, boots kicked off as well. Looking down at him revealed a sinful sight.

He had removed his pants and boxer briefs enough to where they were gathered low on his thighs, allowing you to see how the long length of his cock curved up and rested up along his belly. It was beautiful in the most sinful way. He had moved his shirt up to expose the dark line of hair that trailed down to it, the glint of precum on his ruddy tip making your mouth water at the memory of tasting it and you throb. His eyes were tracking every movement you made, from the bounce of your chest at the action, to the way your bottom lip was between your teeth, the mess of your long hair falling to frame your flushed face. His eyes were dark with arousal, the hazel of them almost lost completely.

You settled back over him, reaching down to grasp his length in a hand. You angled him so the tip grazed your moving hips, the friction just over your clit and sparking stars behind your eyes, electricity hummed through your entire body. Joel’s hands were rough on your hips, not guiding you but just feeling you move against him, the touch grounding him in the haze of arousal that had taken over him. He moved a hand to snake around and grab a palm of your ass, the soft give of the flesh pulling a pleased grunt from him.

“Need you.” You panted, body working against him. You were so close, but you needed more. You needed to feel him hot and hard inside you. You whined as his tip caught the hood of your cunt grinding harshly against your clit. The feeling all too much and not enough at the same time. “Joel, please.”

“I got you, I’ll take care of you. Lift up a little, darlin’.” His voice was rough right in your ear as he leaned up to press against you. You complied. His hands were deft where he gripped himself in one and reached to move your panties to the side with the other, the callousness of his thick fingers sliding through your wet slit once, twice, before circling the bud of nerves that had you struggling to hover over him, thighs quaking. You gripped his shoulders tight and he licked a long strip up your neck before moving his teasing hand to your hip and guided you down. You moaned loudly, as you felt his head hot against your entrance, nudging at you while he reveled in how wet you were and slid between your folds in shallow thrusts, not yet entering you.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you let out a small whine as you angled your hips and sat down on him completely, sheathing him in your warmth.

“Fuck.” His head knocked back to thump heavily against the cabinet, your name falling from his lips as he was overwhelmed with how tightly you were holding him, how slick you were. Warmth was washing over him, building up low in his abdomen and his hands moved to grip tightly on your hips. His nails dug into the flesh there and your hips bucked of their own accord, a hysteric giggle was drowned out by soft moan.

Joel swallowed the sound as his mouth found yours. He broke the kiss as a moan sounded deep in his throat as he felt you clench around him, huffing, he reached up to the counter to turn off the lantern and bathe you both in darkness.

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hopeless-knight · 1 year ago

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Started watching Serial Experiments Lain Ep.1 I dunno what she may have, but that girl is not neurotypical. On a more serious comment, by the first episode alone, the anime knows how to give a lot in senses with little in material. the animation is very simple, theres a lot of still shots and lingering effects with changing filters, but it uses them very well along with the audio to create a sort of disconcerting atmosphere the shadows are stark, not showing anything they cast over besides just red blotches over the darkness, the light is also harsh, engulfing almost every color into a pure white. what isn't affected by that is instead left in washed out colors that just fade into the white. The Droning noises, combined with the long stances where you just... watch these scenes, often with just Lain in them, gives an isolating feel to them, though not exactly melancholic. and considering the anime further plays with these perceptions of the world getting further distorted, it isn't a stretch to say that this is how Lain just sort of experiences the world, and that the anime wants to put you in that headspace. When it comes to its premise, it starts strong and it starts heavy, but it barely gives anything else besides the bare minimum of the premise, it lets the experience of seeing the anime and trying to figure out Lain's thoughts as she navigates the world and information she's given. Would it be weird to say this anime feels... liminal? maybe. either way this is all just the first episode, i'd say it's pretty good, but you really need to be focused to watch it. i'll update this later after i watch a few more episodes.

#pandaseeking #Serial Experiments Lain

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firesofdainix · 2 years ago

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October 28: Swap | Delivery

I am having the biggest brain worms for my Green Kai AU right now.

@morrotober

AO3 Version

Green Kai AU

CW: neglect, vomiting, suicidal thoughts

There was a storm raging through the city on what was supposed to be a fine day. The sound of the downpour was grating Morro’s ears as he attempts to find some semblance of peace and quiet in his own vapid room, completely scrawled with incoherent messages Kai had written when he was in charge of his body for a month. He refuses to look at them, afraid of what he will become when he sees them. Maybe he can turn to the very monster he’s seeking to eradicate from his mind, still continuing to haunt him like a ghost in need of revenge. Honestly, the thought of Kai running free in Ninjago enrages him, to the point he’s made the point to vandalize the room by insulting his messages. The others won’t care anyway if he claims Kai did them. They always let Kai off the hook.

A sense of bitterness floods through him, clutching his pencil as he currently reads studies about possessions and the like. They always did excuse Kai and his actions, but when it comes to him… they never really did, do they?

Bitterness washes over the shores and is replaced by a tidal wave of anger, irreplaceable, but able to be squashed down through so much effort.

Do you know how many years, instances, and occasions Morro has the chance to show his anger, his annoyance about how he’s being treated… yet chooses not to say anything at all? Many times, and in the course of three years, it started to break the dam, the walls in which they are currently hiding. He’s contained his own wind for years, but the thing is, wind cannot be contained. It can only be controlled.

Morro wishes he can run as fast as the wind can. Anything to get out of here, really.

He starts to scratch his arms; a habit he’s had the misfortune to acquire since Kai’s possession of his body. It has the ability to keep himself grounded at all times, at the cost of his skin earning red blotches or scratch marks all over. It was certainly not the best new habit of his.

… It beats having to run to the toilet and scrounge up everything he’s eaten the past few days and into the bowl simply because of Kai’s poor decisions in never maintaining his diet. That is a very unpleasant experience. He wants to only make sure he does it once. Just… once.

Morro sighs, putting his head back on the headrest of his chair, and makes the mistake of looking upwards.

He feels Bile sweltering in his throat immediately, seeing a crudely sketched eye and Ninjargon he couldn't read because he was already pushing himself out of his now uncomfortable chair, not paying any mind as it falls with a crash or the fact he almost bumps into Lloyd carrying a tray of food onto his room and makes his way down the toilet. He doesn't hear Lloyd calling after him, rather making it clear he wants to be in solitude for the time being.

He vomits all the contents in his stomach the same time thunder booms across the monastery, rattling the foundations as the downpour becomes stronger. The wind howls, either because of the tempest or because of his current suffering. He feels his knees buckle, as the world around him swirls out of control, like a tornado of misfortune laying in his wake.

When he finally leaves all the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl, he chokes for a moment, as if he was waiting to get possessed, head rolling back before it returns to its proper place as he, with shaking hands, helps himself up.

He scrubs his mouth with a vengeance in the sink, trying not to look at his reflection in the mirror. He doesn't want to see Kai staring right back at him, those red eyes filled with rage and regret. There were only feelings of hatred and disgust over the older ghost, something he feels is permanent. How dare he not die in the hands of the rain sprawling down on them like solar flares. How dare he be shielded by his own sister simply because they think he can change?

Morro has seen his mind— he's seen what he's capable of thinking about, and none of it has any images of Lloyd or the others, only fit for the glory that was so hard to fathom for someone like him.

He lets the faucet run as he tries scrubbing the taste of bile and waste in his mouth to the point he can feel his gums bleeding, the copper taste of blood spreading with the toothpaste. He spits it out in the sink as he gasps, trying not to think about Kai's possession. Everyone knows about it, but they still act the same as they did.

It's one of the many realizations that no one in this damn group cared about him.

(He forgets how Cole and Zane were the first ones to attend to his unconscious body, and how when he woke up since he came to, they were the ones who tended to him. Everything else becomes invisible when he feels as if the entire world sees him as a ghost himself.)

When he feels as if he's loitered and lingered in the bathroom for an obscene amount of time, he gathers the confidence to open the bathroom door.

He comes almost colliding over Lloyd Garmadon when he exits the bathroom door.

He just has enough time to catch the both of them before they hurtle towards the floor. It was an ugly sight.

Morro stares at the Green Ninja with a slightly disgruntled look. "What were you doing?"

Lloyd detaches himself from Morro, but there was no hint of that underlying coldness and disgust in his eyes like there usually is whenever they have the mishap of encountering each other. He looks, particularly, tense, his fingers running over his hair and his eyes averting.

"I was checking up on you," he says in a calm voice, but it has a lot of layers.

Morro stares at the younger boy incredulously. "You were checking on my condition."

"Yeah."

He continues to stare as if Lloyd has actually unlocked the Oni form he wanted to have since Garmadon was banished. This was an… interesting turn of events. He's never been quite as abashed as he is now.

So, out of the absolute confusion and ludicrity that Morro can only handle in a day, he asks, "Okay… but why?"

This is when Lloyd meets his eyes again, which are now filled with some form of regret. This day is getting so strange he's not sure if he should slap himself or if he actually drowned in the toilet, which is why he's having visions like these. To be honest, he should have drowned himself in the tub when he got the chance.

Lloyd pauses as if he's actually thinking about his words. Oh joy, he finally found his sense of preservation. "Morro, we don't always see eye-to-eye about, well, a lot of things."

"That's probably because you don't let me disagree with you." Morro didn't know why he is currently being bold in the face of the Green Ninja, but he does think he deserves to be blunt about the way they treat him.

Whether or not Lloyd feels guilty or annoyed at the intrusion, he doesn't really share it. "But the way we thought we lost you to a ghost, even if it turns out it was Kai in the end, we felt… so much regret in the way we treated you. How I treated you. I went too far into thinking that you weren't part of the team because I was filled with so much guilt when it comes to remembering what happened to Kai. I thought the universe was messing with us when you came into our lives."

Lloyd pauses to take a breath, but Morro's own heart was beating as fast as the wind can take him. Is… is this really happening? After all those years being stuck in a household that doesn't want anything to do with him?

Then a sense of sourness floods his senses.

Was he seriously reflecting on his wrongdoings now? Since Kai's presence (while he is off to FSM-knows-where) is finally confirmed and they are reminded about it every day?

Wow, they really have their priorities straight.

Lime-green eyes meet green-gold ones. They were filled with regret, yes, but… Morro is done with having to forgive every excuse they have out of their ass. "I'm… so sorry, Morro. I really am."

It doesn't take Morro even a second to make a response. He was unimpressed by his apology, and frankly, he presumes that he only started feeling guilty because Kai is back and he doesn't have to think about him in an oddly depressing light any longer. He can understand this apology if it was delivered to him, what, three years ago? After displaying his dedication in wanting to make Ninjago a safe and better place for individuals, this apology is three years too late. And he has the right to whether or not to accept the deplorations he was given.

He doesn't. Sorry is just a way to show a surface of remorsefulness.

The rain becomes louder with each drop as if it knows the severity of the situation as well.

He lets out a chuckle, which almost sounds too much like Kai's own. He hated it, but it has that tone of underlying rancor in it.

"You know, I would have accepted your apology if you gave it to me three years ago." He begins, a bitter smile on his face. "The thing is: isn't your apology a little too late?"

Lloyd only averts his gaze, but he doesn't deny it.

"I spent three years," he says with gritted teeth, holding up three fingers to emphasize his point, "three years dealing with comparisons made between Kai and I, how I still continue to never make you guys feel satisfied and happy with me being your team member. Did you ever think about how your actions influence the people around you? I spent years of my life trying to distance myself from the name of Kai to the extent I haven't unlocked my True Potential yet. And you have the nerve to complain? I didn't mean to steal his clothes, his room, or his life. But you guys treat me like I'm just a carbon copy of the guy who possessed me. Oh, by the way, did you know he did the worst things when he was in my body? Or will you keep excusing him just because he's your brother?"

Lloyd, thankfully, didn't say anything. He continues giving off the energy in which he knows he's wrong yet he couldn't find it in himself to admit it.

But… that didn't really do well to improve his image which Morro has already built within him. Because right now, Morro wants nothing to do with this team.

He nods, a little relieved he finally lets go of his feelings, brushing his eyes as he feels tears blurring his vision. He walks past Lloyd, who looks tired and remorseful, but again, he's a bit tardy in that aspect. "I'm taking a break from all this hero stuff. I'll come back when I want to. Or," He turns to Lloyd with a nonchalant, authoritative look, "You beg me to come back."

The blonde nods. Slowly, he fumbles over his words of affirmation. "Yes. You have my permission to get a break."

Morro scoffs. "I don't need your permission. Goodbye, Lloyd."

He doesn't let Lloyd get the last say in this; he's dealt with it all, and frankly, he didn't want to elongate his conversation with the young man.

A few hours later, when the rain that had been pouring all day ceases, he walks from the middle of the night, shrouded in shadow as he exits the monastery.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #morrotober #morrotober 2022 #manji wips #green kai au #morro ninjago #morro wu #lloyd montgomery garmadon #lloyd garmadon

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years ago

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i wrote a thing inspired by @galaxygermdraws headcanons and designs for team ZITS!!!

inspiration here

…

The portal has been in the middle of his world for as long as he can remember. But his mother has always told him to stay away from it. “It leads to the Overworld,” she would tell him. “Nothing good ever comes of the Enderfolk in the Overworld.”

So Impulse ignores it.

It’s a proud day when his wings grow in. He’s too young to understand that he wasn’t born with them, that his mother granted them to him. He doesn’t see himself as human and his mother as a dragon. To him, they are the same. He is her baby and she is his mother. No question.

She’s there when he flies for the first time. His tiny wings can only just support his tiny podgy body and he ends up falling after only a few seconds, but his mother is so proud of him that he forgets about that. To her, he just soared among the stars, and she could not be prouder of him.

But nothing lasts forever, no matter how good it is.

His mother disappears one day, leaving no trace. Impulse is terrified and grief-stricken at first, but after searching for her for weeks with no luck, he’s forced to move on with his life. So he befriends the endermen as best he can, though they’re not much for playing or even talking. Not like his mother was.

Years go by. Many years. Impulse gets used to the solitude.

And then… something appears in his world.

The thing is tall, about twice his size. It looks like him in some ways but so different in others, and yet it doesn’t appear to be particularly scary. In fact, when it seems Impulse, IT appears to be afraid of HIM.

He cocks his head to the side as the strange creature ducks behind one of the obsidian pillars. Frowning, he waits until it peeks its head out.

“Hi,” he says.

After a moment, the creature carefully approaches him, keeping a wary eye on the endermen, but they don’t seem to be interested in it.

“Hi,” Impulse repeats.

The strange creature opens its mouth and says something back . But Impulse doesn’t understand the words. It’s not Galactic, his language.

“I don’t understand,” he says.

The creature frowns. Clearly it can’t understand Impulse either. It points at itself and makes a noise that sounds like “Skizz”.

Frowning, Impulse mimics the noise. “Skizz.”

He gets an encouraging nod from the other person. “Skizz,” he says, again pointing to himself.

With a jerk, Impulse realises that must be this person’s name. He points at him. “Skizz.”

Another encouraging nod from Skizz, a bright smile on his face. He points at Impulse and makes another noise that sounds like a question.

“Impulse,” says Impulse, pointing at himself.

Skizz mimics what he says. “Im-pulse?”

His accent is weird, but Impulse doesn’t mind; after all, his own accent probably sounds weird to Skizz. He gives a nod, smiling widely. “Impulse.”

Skizz beams back. “Impulse!”

Impulse is happy. Despite not speaking the same language, he seems to have made a friend.

Suddenly, Skizz gets up and, beckoning, rushes off. Impulse quickly follows, wondering where his new friend is leading him.

His stomach drops when he sees Skizz standing on the edge of the Overworld portal.

“No, no, no,” he says, hurriedly shaking his head. “Not safe!”

Skizz takes both his hands in his own and smiles, a reassuring smile. Even though Impulse can’t understand Skizz’s words, he finds himself trusting his new friend’s smile.

Besides… maybe it’s time for something new.

So he nods, and he and Skizz jump into the portal.

Immediately, the atmosphere changes. This new world is hot and the air feels heavy and full, not at all like the emptiness of the End. And what’s worse, the strange bright orb in the sky hurts his eyes.

Letting out a cry, Impulse takes off running until he finds shelter under a tree. He only knows what it is because he remembers it from his mother teaching him the basics about the Overworld.

That means the orb in the sky must be the “sun”: the source of all life here in the Overworld.

Impulse hates it.

And where is Skizz? Why didn’t they appear in the same place? Where did Skizz go?

Starting to panic, Impulse dashes out from the safety of the tree canopy, noticing the sky darkening. He can see a cave in the hill a few hundred blocks away so he bolts for that, but before he can reach it, something starts falling from the sky. Something wet.

Something that burns his skin and his wings.

Screaming and crying in pain, Impulse keeps running, holding up his wings to protect his head from the horrible substance burning him. He makes it to the cave and scrambles inside, collapsing to the ground on his side.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Why did he ever come here? He’s alone and he’s in pain and he’s terrified. WHY did he EVER come here?!

Just let me die already… Please…

…

“Impulse!” Skizz yells, looking around wildly for his new friend. “IMPULSE! Where are you?!”

He curses himself for not considering that Impulse’s Overworld respawn place would be different to his. Impulse has never been to the Overworld before, and since the Overworld portal in the End puts you back at your respawn point, of course it would make sense that Skizz would appear back in his home but Impulse wouldn’t.

He’s gone back to his world’s spawn, where it’s now raining. The cave he took shelter in when he first spawned in this world is his destination. If Impulse appeared here, Skizz is sure he would seek shelter in that cave.

Sure enough, he can hear a noise as he gets closer, a noise that sounds like crying. His heart skips a beat as he scrambles up the side of the hill and hops up into the cave.

Impulse is lying curled up in a ball on his side, shaking and crying, clearly not fully conscious. Skizz gasps at the sight of red blotches all over Impulse’s arms, neck, and face.

“Impulse, are you okay?” he gasps, forgetting momentarily that Impulse can’t understand him. “Impulse?”

When he gets no response, Skizz stoops and picks Impulse up. Impulse is half his size, despite being podgier than him, so it’s an easy journey from the cave to his home. Luckily, the rain has stopped now.

Skizz carefully lies Impulse down in his bed and tucks him in. He has no idea what to do now. Clearly, the Overworld does not agree with Impulse. It might have been the rain that caused all those little red blotches on his skin.

In that case, it’s Skizz’s fault that Impulse is in this condition. He can’t go back to the End like this. Feeling guilty, Skizz heads down and gathers up as much food as he can. If it’s his fault that Impulse is stuck here then the least Skizz can do is take care of him.

And Skizz does. When Impulse wakes up, the two find ways to communicate through gestures and noises. And after Impulse recovers, he considers going back to the End. But curiosity and his budding new friendship keeps him here.

In the subsequent months, they start teaching each other their language. The process is slow, but rewarding. And soon, the two build a life together. They build a house for Impulse and make it as safe for him as possible. Impulse gets used to living in the Overworld; he starts to be able to tell when the rain is coming so he can go inside and avoid getting burnt, and the sun no longer hurts his eyes.

His life is good.

One day, almost a full three years after his first arrival in the Overworld, Skizz takes Impulse to the portal he used to go to the End all those months ago.

“This is where I came to your world,” Skizz explains.

Impulse stares down into the portal. The swirling blackness looks exactly the same as the inside of the portal in the End that they took to come to the Overworld.

“Do you wanna go back?” Skizz asks quietly, noticing how intently his friend is looking at the portal.

With almost no hesitation, Impulse shakes his head. “No, not really. I’m happy here with you.”

Skizz beams. “Aww! I’m happy here with you too. We don’t need anybody else, huh?”

“Nah, we got each other. Let’s go home and work on that stable you wanted to build.”

“Okay!”

But when the two get home, they find a weird portal set into the cliff near their home. The frame is upright and made of obsidian, and the portal inside is purple and swirly.

“What is this?” asks Impulse nervously. “A portal?”

Skizz shrugs. “I have no idea; I’ve never seen anything like this bef-.”

The two yelp as the portal suddenly makes a loud whooshing sound and a figure appears from inside it. The figure jumps out of the portal, dusting himself down, and spots Impulse and Skizz a little way off.

“Who the hell are you?” Skizz demands.

The blond figure crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes in a look of suspicion and distrust.

“I’m Tango. Who are you?”

#impulsesv #skizzleman #separation au #vaunna writes #team zits

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icequeenbae · 4 years ago

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Dior Vernis | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Domestic au, husband!Baekhyun, pregnant!Reader, established relationship (obviously), slight angst, fluff, bits of humor (it’s Baek, y’all)

Rated: G

Warnings: husband!Baek’s so sweet you may need to visit your dentist after this

Word Count: ~1.5k finally

Summary: Baekhyun came home to find his pregnant wife crying. He’s ready to do what it takes to make her happy again. And it’s probably not what you think.

Author’s Note: This is just a cute little something while I work on bigger stories – those are taking forever to get edited… :( Feel free to DM me in case you want to help out with some of it (check out my beta reader post). I was trying something new in terms of structuring this, I hope it’s not too confusing. Anyways, please enjoy and let me know if you’d like more of these!! Thanks baekshoney for taking a quick look!

Baekhyun was incredibly focused.

The task at hand was not something he was used to undertaking, neither had he expected to be in this position tonight, crouched uncomfortably on the living room floor in front of you. He was pretty tired after work, and the stoop was making both his knee and his neck hurt. Not that he was going to say anything about the inconvenience anyway.

It was strangely quiet, seeing that this was your home, always boisterous. Loud with your laughter, your endless chattering, your purposefully bad singing, or even your arguments. But right now, the only sounds reverberating around the room were your residual sniffling and his concentrated breathing. You tried to take a closer look at his hands, quite unsuccessfully since your massive seven-months pregnant belly was in the way.

‘Don’t move,’ he asked, when you shifted slightly.

You nodded, effectively doing that again, so he shot you a dirty look and held you in place by the ankle, to which you muttered something apologetic.

‘Are you trying to make me mess up?’

‘Sorry,’ you mumbled, chewing on your lip to control your impatience.

You better let your husband do this – he definitely took his mission seriously. Of course, there was no way he’d mess up and make you cry the way you were when he came through the door. Simply no way.

Even if he had to crouch and do this for the next hour.

It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes since he arrived home. At the time, Baekhyun expected you to be happy that he came early to spend some more time together, but instead found you sitting at the edge of the couch, bawling your eyes out.

At the sight of this he felt his heart skip a beat in fear. He very rarely got like this, usually the one to take a step back and look at any issue calmly and with a bit of humor. But now was a special time – you were getting ready to become parents for the very first time – which made him overly cautious and uncharacteristically fussy around you. Hence, while he stood frozen in the doorway, a million scary thoughts went through his panicked mind. His eyes searched your body frantically: there were no visible injuries, no blood, the bump was intact…

‘What’s going on? Y/N?’ He was trying so hard to cover up his terror that he instantly gave himself away by using your name like this. Too serious. ‘Are you hurt?’

He reached you in a second, kneeling in front of you and touching your wrists as you covered your face while crying.

‘Baby, tell me what’s wrong,’ he almost pleaded.

He wanted to help but had no idea what was happening. You looked fine from what he could tell and the TV was off, so it definitely wasn’t due to any tragic plot twist in your favorite series. Your shoulders shook with more sobs and he shifted his palms to rub them in calming motions. There was an unusual lump in his throat. He could barely stand seeing you, his partner and future mother of his child, like this. Sure, these past few months of your regular hormonal crying taught him some resolve, but that dreadful time was over weeks ago. He’d never even seen you this discomposed before, so the reasoning behind your state was to be determined as soon as possible.

‘Hey,’ he tried again, putting his gentle palm on your belly absentmindedly. ‘I need to know if you’re hurt, babe, so that I can help. Do you need me to call someone?’

You shook your head no, and he nodded to himself.

‘Okay. Why don’t you breathe with me for a second?’

With you getting upset during a good portion of your early pregnancy, Baekhyun had to train himself at the art of figuring out the reason and calming you down to talk about it. Breathing exercises seemed quite helpful whenever he could get through to you, and this was one of those cases. You must’ve been crying for a bit, since before he arrived even. That thought made his heart clench.

‘Breathe in with me, like this,’ he took a deep breath through his nose, ‘And exhale from your mouth.’

He guided you by example, and you subconsciously followed the suggested pattern.

A couple minutes later, your sobs were reduced to sniffling, and you lowered your palms enough for Baekhyun to see your red, watery eyes.

‘Aw sweetheart,’ he bemoaned, carefully investigating your blotched face.

He took his time wiping the tears off your cheeks while you sat there with your sweater paw pressed to your runny nose.

His touch was always so comforting in times like this. There was nothing like it. And everything about your husband gave you a sense of tranquility and security when he was near. Even Baekhyun’s breathing was doing its part in relaxing you.

He allowed you to bask in his affection, stroking your arm lingeringly and tracing the remaining wet trails on your cheeks with his fingertips. As your breathing slowly came back to normal, he could finally pay attention to the surroundings. There was a small colorful item on the floor that he’d noticed only now. Curious, he picked it up and read the label.

‘Dior Ver- vernis? Is this nail polish?’ He asked in confusion and received a feeble nod from you.

Baekhyun could barely place this item in ‘the big picture’, so he tried asking you again.

‘So… Can you tell me what happened?’

You looked away, avoiding his eyes. He examined your face and was mystified by the embarrassed look that appeared on it out of the blue.

‘Y/N?’

‘It’s- I think it’s hormones again,’ you croaked and looked away.

While this was an excellent excuse, he’d known you well enough to understand that it was one.

‘Tell me everything, honey. What got you upset?’

His palm went back to caressing your baby bump, and you instantly felt loved and cherished from the simple action. Your fidgety fingers lowered to play with his.

‘It’s- nothing serious,’ you confessed. ‘I just- my feet got hideously swollen today… And I had a pedicure appointment. Had to cancel.’

Baekhyun nodded, still unsure of what exactly caused this outburst. Your feet tended to get swollen often these days, this wasn’t news to either one of you, and it was fine, your doctor had said. It couldn’t have been some randomly cancelled appointment that got you in tears, right? Or could it?

‘I- tried doing it myself,’ you continued reluctantly, noticing his puzzlement. ‘But it’s impossible. I can’t even see anything because- because I’m so huge,’ you stifled a sob. ‘And swollen, and clumsy, and-’

‘And beautiful,’ Baekhyun interrupted your rant that was headed the wrong way already.

He could see it now. This was definitely hormone infused but there was also something else underneath. Your husband hummed, a playful expression creeping up his face.

‘Why would this upset you though? You’re only ‘huge’ because you’re carrying our healthy boy,’ Baekhyun’s tone was thick with fondness as he said that. ‘He’s going to be a big one. At this rate I’m willing to bet that he’s going to be taller than Chanyeol. All thanks to his miracle mother.’

You snorted a laugh at his non-scientific statement, finding his warm palm on your stomach. He just loved touching it at all times.

‘What if it’s a girl?’ You whispered, and your husband gasped, now pressing both hands to your belly protectively.

‘Why would you say that! She’d be a model then, and I don’t want my little girl to be one. She’s mine to look at and cherish,’ he pretend grumbled before adding a softer, ‘Just like you.’

Nudging his shoulder timidly, you giggled and bit your lip to contain your bashful smile.

‘Hm, you know what?’ He clicked his tongue, looking like he’d had a revelation. ‘I’m sure pedicure isn’t rocket science; I can do it.’

You barely reacted as he swiftly took the fluffy slipper off your right foot and rested it over his knee.

‘No!’ You tried to retract the limb but he held you by the ankle. In any case, you were way too lumpish to do it gracefully.

‘Oh, come on! You think this can scare me? Those are just feet, Y/N,’ he scolded and looked down, almost jumping. ‘Holy mother of-!’

You squirmed and hid your eyes in your sleeve as he proceeded to laugh at your reaction.

‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding!’ He said in an amicable tone before continuing, ‘I’m sure I can find your toenails in there, somewhere.’

You whined at this and shoved your mischievous husband in the side with the ball of your foot.

‘Alright, alright, calm down. I’m going to put this exquisite shade of pink onto them as neatly as I can. But you have to promise me that you won’t cry if I mess up!’

‘Don’t you dare mess up. Or else you’ll have to make it up to me with three hundred foot rubs,’ you groused, sniffing again to keep your nose from running.

‘Got it. Phew, glad you won’t be able to see it up close anyways,’ he smirked, expertly shaking the nail polish in preparation.

‘Baekhyun!’ You reproached for his shamelessness.

Your husband let out a cheeky laugh and announced:

‘My foot’s falling asleep, so let’s do this!’

He was fully concentrated on your pedicure after that.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I was blown away by the feedback I received for the Duality of Baekhyunie, so I wanted to keep you entertained while I’m working on the sequel and other stuff. I hope you weren’t disappointed ❤

P.S. Tell me in the comments how fast you realized that it’s all about nail polish 😂

#baekhyun fics #baekhyun x reader #icequeenbae fics #exowritersnet #husband!Baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #exowriter #icequeenbae #pregnant!reader #slice of life

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

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Heaven in Hiding

Hello everyone, it's @sasageyowrites 's birthday today and this fic in my queue is dedicated to her and only her. This is my gift to you sweetheart, sweet 17 I love you dearly. On another note I used some line breakers here because I wanted to see how they worked don't mind me I might remove them later on

Pairing: Dabi/reader

Summary: Dabi finds himself unable to get out of your shadow and in despairate need to provide for your and your daughter's safety you confront him, forbidding him of ever being able to lay his eyes on you or your baby

Warnings: Stalking I guess, I mean typical Dabi stuff you know..

Dabi wasn’t a stalker. At least that was what he tried to tell himself in any case he’d come to believe that very statement.

The wind was chilling, blowing his hair anywhere on his face, much like the endless amount of tree leaves that swayed everywhere around him. He glanced around, noticing the first specs of snow had already started to fall down following the sudden harsh blow of air.

He huddled inside the neckline of his black hoodie, his face mask shifting obnoxiously over the metal staples that held the skin of his cheeks together. His black windbreaker jacket did almost nothing to cover him from the excessive cold wind that blew; not that he was any close to freezing -it was more of the opposite- but he’d always feel that tingling sensation of the frozen metal bars on his burned skin. They scorched on his burn even further that he could ever want to admit, but by now he was used to the pain.

Most of the trees around him were stripped off of their leaves, their thin boles put to display for him and any bystander. The clouds were covering most of the sky, only a few tiny specks of baby blue peaked form underneath them, yet they were quickly vanishing under the mellow snowy clouds. In that moment Dabi knew, the enormous sunglasses he wore to hide his undereyes only made him look more suspsicious.

Not that he didn’t look like a fly in a full glass of milk to begin with.

The glass doors before him opened automatically, the red motion monitor beeping in his eyes as the sound of a bell rang once he entered the convinience store. The medium height stalls laid neatly before him, the colors of the numerous products almost catching his attention. He shook his head as if wanting to come to his senses, his attention span traveling back to his person of interest, the person he followed all the way to this store.

Glancing around the store, his eyes quickly met with the security camera view screen. Teal orbs paced maniacally, traveling back and forth between the numerous small windows until they were met with what they were looking for. His feet marched before he could even think, mechanically even, pacing quickly towards the direction he had instantly memorised, much to his demise.

He had to stop himself from grunting just before his body movements came to an halt. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket he sank his face deeper into his hoodie, standing before the glass covered fridge isle, his eyes seemingly fixated on the multiple cartons of milk that lead before him.

When your hand went for the matte metallic handle of said door Dabi found himself mimicking your action, putting his best effort into trying not to raise any suspision. You didnt seem to pay him any mind; as your hand extended further you hesitantely grabbed onto a powder blue carton, carefully placing it into the wheeled basket that was standing down before you.

You probably didn’t care about anyone around you; Dabi figured out that much while noticing you hadn’t even threw a glance in his direction over all the time the had been watching you. Secretly he restented just how much you minded your own business, it came to the point you were naively ignoring your surroundings completely. He knew exactly what you were thinking about; no one cared to bother with a random bypasser like you, but at least he hoped that after your time with him you’d come to understand the way criminal minds worked.

He chuckled to himself as he thought about giving you the least some credit. This was a nice neighborhood, a very well lit part of the town, accentuated in beautiful cherry blossoms that bloomed in spring, filled with numerous families as well as residents of a few of the top ten heroes. This place seemed to be inaccessible to murderous, bloodlusty villains such as himself.

At first it had seemed unreal that you were alive, free of any mark. He had thought he'd gotten the wrong person, still stuck over the fact that he couldn't do much to save you, one of the few people he had cared about in this world, but he was soon convinced, as he witnessed your meeting with Midnight, that this was in fact you, alive and well.

Yet, here he was. Following you around for God knows how many days now, obsessed with the fact that it was you that lived a careless life before his very eyes. For the most part he had tried to deny it, to convince himself that he had gotten completely insane and delusional. And he had wanted for that assumption to be correct. Because he had, or rather, he had thought he had, watched you die a horrible death, engulfed in acid, screaming in agony as it burned through your skin and bones.

And as if that wasn't an earth shattering shocker, it had to be that you were always seeming to be carrying a child with you.

Dabi wasn't dense and he wasn't lucky either. The child was around a year or so, he had figured, adorned with a set of tealy baby blues and (h/c) hair, save for her front bangs and the hair above her ears and nape. As much as he'd like them to be any other color -because, truly, such fact could actually justify the disgusting and full of jealousy throbbing in his heart every time he laid his eyes on the two of you- they shone a bright fiery red.

(H/c) bangs curtained your face as you bowed your head down, giggling as you brought your forehead to bump into a smaller one. Dabi watched as your eyes creased and squinted as a big beam was plastered on your face, your nose coming to bump on the baby’s button one. He almost smiled, sincerely even, at the interaction, though a pinch inside his chest prevented him from doing so. He couldn’t help but stop and stare, unsure of whether he looked dumpfounded or not.

“We got your milk Saku, yay!” you cheered, receiving a small squeal in response from the infant.

His fingers idled with the carton that fell under his hand, a small pink and brown carton, marked with the enormous words of any irrelevant label. His eyes fixated on it, quivering as ever, his thoughts mocking him as to whether he could try and dare to take another glance in your direction. His gut though churned, burning his insides in what seemed like an endless torturous bloodlust. Taken aback, his gut chirped, his throat seemingly forming a loop, preventing him from being able to take another breath. And.if he were to be honest, in the moment he needed one.

The anxiety rushing through his veins worked its wonders on him, raging dangerously towards his face, burning everything in its way. That disgusting antic was back, the obnoxious nervous smile he couldn’t rid himself off formed on his face under his mask. He wanted to slap himself it, yet it was hard to do so before you, it could potentially blow his cover and cause a scene that he didn’t want to in the store. As much as he loved causing mayhem, this wasn’t the time for it.

As the baby chirped, fidgeting her small open fists through your hair, he came to officially convince himself on his involvement with her. Blue springles emitted from the tips of her fingers and immediatelly the discomforting odor of burnt hair filled the air. And damn, did Dabi hate that smell.

“Baby, don’t burn mommy’s hair.” you smiled, stealing a glance in Dabi’s direction as you spoke, taking him aback by the sudden action.

Why was his heart speeding up in such demonic pace though? You probably didn’t even do so on purpose. Thinking that you were actually aware of his presence around you shouldn't be as unsettling as it seemed in the moment, in the end you were bound to notice the black clothed figure following you everywhere like a second shadow, weren’t you? Did he really think you were that stupid?

Sighing to himself he turned on his feet, proceeding to walk in the opposite direction of the one which you walked towards. He couldn’t stand being in this store anymore, his blood boiled at the thought of what he was actually doing. It was safe to say that he really did despised what he had turned into, but there was no going back. Picking up his feet, he exited the store, the chocolate milk still in his hand, burried in the inside of his sleeve.

Damn, he needed to smoke a cigarette or ten.

Dabi didn't know how many hours he had spent in the park across your apartment building; frankly he had lost all track of time and albeit having witnessed the sun set, he was unable to pinpoint how long ago the phenomenon had take place.

Snow fell down in big white blotches, littering his black windbreaker before it melted down into the fabric, only to pushed back out of its surface in the form of steam. His body was churning, the burnt skin that was held by the staples in certain areas practically oozed in tiny specs of blue cremating fire, the fleece fabric of his hoodie protesting as it ceased to exist. At this point he knew he was going to burn his clothes down if he kept staring at your windows and this wasn't his fireproof villainous attire, nonetheless he didn't feel as if his legs could move according to what his brain commanded. Nor did he feel as if he could control his own self.

When he'd think about pushing a leg forward in order to take leaping step, you'd come to the window he had a good view on and stroll around the room, always accompanied by the silhouette of the infant in your embrace and all Dabi was left with consisted of his ability to hide inside his hood or rather, his inability to get himself out of the situation. He secretly liked the way you hadn't pulled the curtain all the way across the window, whether it was intentionally or not -he didn't care to know of- he just enjoyed that he could get that tiny glimpse of you and Saku -or at least, that was the only thing he'd ever hear you call her.

Dabi wished that it wasn't so quiet, he wished he hadn't been able to hear it, but now that he had, he couldn't help but feel a little swirling bulb of bitter jealousy forming in his lower stomach. Yet was what assuring for a second was terrifying in the next; he'd never seen him around your house, or rather, he'd never seen you and him interact in any way. The only thing he knew was that you probably had many gives and takes with the heroes, a thing that put his mind to work harder than it ever should have been.

For a fragment of a second teal eyes meet with obsidian ones, forrowed straight brows met taller thinner ones. Dabi felt belittled as he stared at the male across the street who seemingly stared right back at him but he held himself back from letting out a surprised whimper as a reaction to recognising the man.

Aizawa Shouta, Eraser Head, was standing underneath the main door of your apartment complex, his fingers lingering with what Dabi had memorized to be your doorbell. The ravenette watched as you perked up, your silhouette passing by the familiar window as you paced and only a few moments later the familiar buzz of your intercom rang through the air.

He was confused. Confused beyond a sane point. Maybe that's why he had decided to stick around. Maybe, as he told himself so, you were just a mystery he wanted to solve.

"Thanks for coming." You smiled as soon as you opened the door, your batting eyes falling into the ravenette's stoic ones.

"Don't bother thanking me," Aizawa raised his palm, closing his eyes as he softly signed you to stop "I saw him, you know."

"He hasn't left that spot in the park for hours actually." You confirmed.

A deep sigh left your chest, your brows furrowing as your face fell in a despairate and miserable expression. The corner of your lip twitched and your jaw quivered as your soft pieces of flesh pressed together, a series of actions that Aizawa didnt fail to notice, yet he idled in his spot, his feet bowing slightly as he proceeded to take his shoes off. Once done, his feet mechanically marched towards you, his hands hesitantly coming to cup the tops of your shoulders.

The anxiety in your stomach leaped, throwing hellish boulders in the walls of your intestines, trying to hurt you enough so that you could come to your senses. But your mind protested on what you had decided on, fighting back with every breath you took. Your heart throbbed inside your chest, begging to spill through your ribs in mushy gashes, your throat was dry was you stared at Aizawa with wide eyes.

"Don't worry. I'm here." He spoke, sternly and before you managed to utter a words, making you squint your eyes shut.

Your hands came to hug around your form, the intense cold from outside finally finding its way inside your apartment and setting you as a target. It was now or never, you thought. The last few months ahead taken an enormous toll on you, Dabi's presence always being in your shadow was driving you insanse, filling you with rage and remorse.

He had no right to come after you and intrude on your personal life, yet you didn't know if you could try and not do the same were you in his place. But perhaps that was just an excuse you were making because you resented yourself for ever being involved in the ways you had with him.

You looked up at Aizawa, the inches that separated you, giving you a good lower view of his face. His heavy eyebags resembled his in a way you couldn't explain, his obsidian eyes that stared into yours with assurance -that was the look of a hero who had come to your rescue- yet you couldn't help but compare it to Dabi's ominus, cold glare, damn even the long messy onyx hair screamed Dabi to you and you hated it.

You hated that you could see him anywhere. Whether it was your imagination, dreams or real life, Dabi was always there, hiding in the shadow in the most prominent, ironic way, mocking you for your past choices, staring at your daughter maniacally with eyes so wide that were raged with manic.

Every night you felt like pulling your hair off your scalp, you felt like clawing your face until you ripped your skin or screaming to the walls until they fell down and came apart; you could feel Dabi's eyes on you on whatever actively you were set to do, even sleeping and in occasional fear of being cremated on your sleep.

This was the time to take action and if anyone could help you not get burnt into ashed that was Aizawa Shouta.

"He probably won't try anything funny with you here Shouta. Sakura is asleep but you can have her relax in your arms if you fear that I'll take long." You said rushing to get your combat boots out of the shelf you had them stored.

"Out of all people, did you really have to have a child with Dabi, (y/n)?" Aizawa playfully remarked, yet you furrowed your eyebrows as his expression failed to match with his tone.

You simply sighed back to him, closing your eyes in embarrassing defeat, your chest was run by a sudden chill, causing your body to absurdly perk up and Aizawa huffed through his nose in determination.

"Maybe you should wear a coat." He suggested.

"It's fine," you spoke back playfully "I actually like being cold.

Your breath formed into fog as you exhaled and you watched it annihilate into thin freezing air, your eyes glimmering under the cold lights of the street lamps, your orbs quivering from the freezing cold. You unwrapped your hands from your form as you felt the cold take over you. It was absurdly refreshing, you thought, and immediately your brain protested over your irrational way of thinking, yet your gut was scorching and at least the snow falling on your hair and nose was providing you with some newfound comfort.

You wanted to pick up your pace, but your frozen legs ignored you, deciding to prolong your misery further, your toes going numb with each step you took closer to Dabi's direction. He didn't even flinch. Not even once. You wondered if you shall take another step towards him, the terror that run through you raged over the theory that Dabi was only trying to catch you off guard before he fried you alive.

Still, you focused your gaze on the small streak of smoke that bled out of his hoodie. Soon the smell of tobacco filled your almost too numb nostrils as the sound of Dabi's snarky breath filled your ears. It was criminally quiet tonight, though this street wasn't normally filled with people, many school kids would chose the park across your apartment to hang out after school or during the late hours of night, but seeing how bad the weather was tonight you could blame anyone for not chosing to freeze themselves to death.

Of course, Dabi and you were two of a kind.

"Care to share a cig with me?" You spoke with determination, managing to let out a small hint of teasing in your voice to mask your fear.

"You actually practiced that line or something?"

Dabi chuckled in your direction although you could listen to the dryness in his tone. His hood covered head didn't turn in your direction just yet but his hand reached for one of his pockets, then leaping into another, taking short anxious movements, perhaps, you though, to throw you off. You were though sure Dabi could practically smell fear and if that was true whatever he was doing, he was doing it to mess with you, you knew how he much loved corruption or how he enjoyed the reek of fear from a few of his victims.

"Don't twitch like that, I'm just looking for my pack."

There it was. Yeah. Of course he was messing with you. Great, he was going to kill you weren't he now?

Dabi shift uncomfortably in his eat on the snow drenched bench, his hip bones clashing with the hard wood beneath him but he pushed through the discomfort he was feeling because now he was facing you.

Your jaws were clashing furiously, the hoodie you were wearing was probably doing nothing to keep you warm and for a moment he seriously thought about removing his windbreaker and tossing it over your shoulders, but he knew you wouldn't accept it, so he set on saving himself from the embarrassment.

Picking a hand out of one pocket he presented you with the small carton that held a couple of cigarettes and you didn't miss a chance on grabbing one, not even giving it a second thought. Looking around, you realised there was no lighter in sight and you sighed as Dabi offered his pointer finger, the digit adorned with a sheer blue coowling crown and naively you bowed down, taking a drag as the fire touched the edge of the cigarette.

You didn't bother thanking him as a constipated expression masked your face, your hands coming to rest under your bust just in case you'd ever get tired of holding your cigarette with your lips.

"Care to sit down?" Dabi remarked and you absurdly turned your head in the opposite direction, taking a drag through the filter, the stinky taste of nicotine filling your tingling on your taste buds.

"No, Dabi. You know why I'm here. I can't deal this anymore."

"You can't deal living without me little mouse?" He snarled, his hands quickly working on replacing the smoked cigarette that hung from his lips with a fresh one.

"Dabi I'm serious." You said, squinting your eyes "This is driving me insane. Did you really think I wouldn't notice you?"

Despite your tone suggesting that your question wasn't rhetorical, Dabi made no effort to even part his mouth to reply.

"Care to tell me what you want from me?"

Silence. Dabi looked at you as if you were speaking in a language he couldn't recognise, as if your words fell deaf to his ears.

"Dabi, I'm not going to beg for my life if that's what you want, and I don't appreciate that you're trying to entertain your psychopathic kinks." You said, voice below your normal pitch, indicating the small hints of fear that came with your intuition.

"Is she mine?"

The question hit you like a truck. Shaking, you couldn't help but feel like a deer blinded by the headlights, your blood running cold in your veins. Could you truthfully answer that without setting yourself and your daughter in danger? Stealing a glimpse of your window you vaguely made out Aizawa's silhouette and your heart warmed at the soothing reassurance that came with the action.

"Would it matter for you to know? What would it change?"

"Wouldn't you want to know if you had a little bastard marching astray?" Dabi monotonously remarked, making your stomach growl with rage.

"Sakura isn't a dirty stray dog, you're in no place to talk about her like that, not when you don't know what I went through for her." You raged, your eyes glowing with anger as you burned holes in Dabi's teal orbs.

So that was the name you had given her- Sakura- a plain overused name with a beautiful meaning, Dabi could atone for the fact that he liked it. Nevertheless, he stared at you, his lips puckered together in a determined manner, his cigarette never leaving the right corner of his mouth.

"Hit a nerve, little mouse?"

"Stop calling me that Dabi." Upon snarling you stomped your foot to the ground.

"How should I call you? I don't think I caught your actual name."

Dabi was bitter and he had every right to be, or so he told himself, he felt enraged to look in your direction, yet so speak to you and to top it all his stupid, idiotic feet were shaking and he didn't feel like he could get up, he could only stand there and stare at you, but this was unlike any other time. This time you were staring right back at him (e/c) orbs burning holes into the back of his brain.

But he wasn't going to give in, despite whatever he felt, he wouldn't give in to how soft he viewed you as, he wasn't going to give in to how your familiar smell filled his nostrils or how his heart set at an orbit of its own due to your eyes in his. Anxiously, he took another drag of his cigarette before taking a look towards your window, making out Eraser Head's silhouette in the dim light.

"I won't try to kill you, by the way, you didn't have to bring your friend over."

Your expression hardened as Dabi mentioned Aizawa, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes immediately fell in his direction once again.

"You don't have to obsess over Shouta as well."

"Ah, already on first name basis? With a man that much older than you and here you are calling me Dabi?" He whined playfully, but still his feet wouldn't move.

"What I do in my life is none of your business, you don't have any right on me because you knocked me up-"

"So she is mine."

If you could, you'd wipe that smug look that was immediately plastered on his face, but you knew better and you hated that you did. You knew that he smiled like that when he was in discomfort, you knew that he couldn't move from the spot he was seated on, you could still see through him and it killed you, it killed you because on one hand you were utterly afraid of what he could do to you and on another you wanted to bring a palm to his face and call him by his name.

"Look Dabi," you sighed in defeat "to answer any of your questions, Sakura is your daughter and I brought Shouta here because I'm afraid you're here to kill us. How am I supposed to know you're not playing dumb with me because you want to kill me?"

Dabi quirked a brow at you, bringing his hand to the top of his hood and pulling it down, his hair tousling in the air. "Can't I just be amazed that you're living a careless life when you're supposed to be dead?"

You averted your eyes from his in shame, your body shivering slightly for a brief moment. "I was supposed to take down small nameless criminals Dabi. I fake my death so I could get out of there with my ass saved."

"I should kill you, you know, I've entrusted you with very significant information about me." Dabi growled, his fingers starting to springle in the tiniest specs of cobalt.

Despite watching them dance before you, your gut felt numb and you could thank the freezing cold for that, but you didn't feel the growling eruption of fearful anxiety grow inside you anymore.

"Well it was your fault that you trusted me enough to tell me your name and purpose, but I won't spill the beans on you. Unless..." You prompted, finally taking a seat next to Dabi, your thigh merely brushing against his own.

"Unless?" He inquired, intrigued as ever.

"Unless you leave us alone, Touya." You whispered the name below the sound of a breath, making sure no one around you could hear, yet Dabi quivered by the sound, his eyes glued on your lips. "The truth is, I don't want you associated with Sakura. How will the world treat her if they find out she's the daughter of a serial killer?"

"I... I just." He hesitated.

"You what? If your villain friends know about her they're going to come after us, being a single mother is fucking me up already, give a girl a fucking break Dabi."

You were dumbfounded by how bold you were getting and you only had yourself to blame, cornering the villain felt dangerous and endearing at the same time, his otherwise dominant behavior had crumbled in only a few tiny seconds and between them you had managed to call the shots and push all the right buttons, corrupting your way into the point you wanted to make.

It was true, during your time working undercover to take down small criminals you had indeed picked up on the way criminal minds worked. And in moments like these you used it to your advantage.

"Can I just see her once?"

His tone took you aback, sending your eyes to spread wide as a surprised expression masked your face. His voice was pleading and small, soft and intruding poking you to spare him with any pity you had in you. Shaking your head, you came to your senses, finally aware of the fact that your thigh was pushed against his.

With a shagged breath you made a move to get up but you were forced into the cold bench once again by Dabi's hand, the sound on shifting filling the air as you growled on your spot.

"You don't get to tell me what to do little mouse." He barked, his digits digging into the skin of your thigh almost painfully. "I want to see my daughter. How come that hobo of a man can see her when I can't."

"Dabi, I just explained why I don't want you around her."

"I have every right don't I?" He asked.

"Actually, you have no right, you're a serial killer Dabi, you shouldn't have any right, the only reason as to why I can't arrest you right now is because all I have are this stupid healing quirk and that I have no license to do anything to you. Now if you go in to my house, Shouta isn't going to go soft on you."

Dabi growled in his seat, his hand leaving your thigh as he maniacally went to light another cigarette, this time the small spec of fire dancing on his quivering finger.

"This is a warning, stop stalking us." You sighed and brought your palms over your knees with a slap before straightening them to stand up.

"Wait-" Dabi said as he watched you take a few steps away from him, his head extending to your direction. "If- if you heal me, will I be able to see her then?"

You didn't dare turn around to face him, instead you hugged your chest, taking in a deep breath as you lowered your head to stare at your shoes. The voice inside your head was hot and sweet and it bowed to your natural instinct as a healer, somewhere deep inside your chest you felt as if that in a way it could work. But even if you took away what made Touya Dabi then would he really ever atone for all his sins? You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep with both eyes closed if he were to be by your side, his ideals weren't just something he could give up just because he would leave his appearance behind.

"Look, Touya, I really like Shouta, please don't ruin this for me." you whispered, your voice raspy but you never managed to turn to him. Whether your statement was a lie or not was up to Dabi to decide.

"No wait."

You didn't respond to his call out. You simply hugged your chest tighter, pressing your breasts with your cubits as you took fast steps towards your apartment complex.

You chose to ignore the fittings that you heard behind you, the commotion he was causing coming second to the way your heartbeat annoyingly pulsed in your ears. When Dabi's palm hazed over you you heaped, your breath cutting short and consequentially being trapped inside your weary lungs.

"I'd never hurt a mother and a child." Dabi gulped, his fingers being moments away from brushing over your clothed skin.

But you didn't care, you simply lowered your shoulder, throwing your collarbone forward in an attempt to escape the upcoming contact of his body with yours. You set your feet to work, rapidly and uncarefuly sliding through the snow as you tried to get away.

And once again all Dabi could do was stop and stare. You didn't care about the churning in his gut, you didn't give a damn about the ashes of his heart either, there was no heaven in hiding for him, just this bitterweet taste of tobacco in the buds of his tongue, and the unbearable stinging in his eyes. All he was left with was his wish to see you and Sakura again.

And maybe he could do that. He just needed to become a silent shadow.

#dabi x reader #touya x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #dabi my hero academia #dabi x you #dabi is touya #dabi #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #x reader #dabi is hot #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is a little shit

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itsbatman-butpoor-andmurderous · 3 years ago

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when vacationing in florida:

tips from a born and raised floridian

wear (reef safe) sunscreen

this is a given y’all. if you’re out in the sun for longer than 10-15 minutes you need to have sunscreen on and re-apply every hour. let it soak in for about 30 minutes before you go into water. if you don’t you will get a nasty sunburn, and skin cancer isn’t fun either but it takes a lot of sunburns to get to that point. however, you can get sun poisoning from one really bad sunburn. sun poisoning, or photodermatitis, is a form of allergic contact dermatitis which is your skin having an allergic reaction to sun exposure. it can lead to swelling, difficulty breathing, burning sensations, an itchy red rash that looks like small blisters, skin peeling, nausea, and itchy brown/orange tinted blotches that mostly appear on your face/neck area and can stay there for days after the initial poising.

see the point on reef safe sunscreen to learn more about why you need to use reef safe sunscreen.

take your jewelry off before going in the ocean. sharks are attracted to jewelry, blood, and things like surfboard or boogie boards that make you look like a seal

sharks don’t eat people on purpose, they can’t see very well so they rely on their sense of smell, to smell blood, and their limited vision which mistakes shiny jewelry for shiny fish scales and boards for seals due to the similar shape. sharks do something called sensory biting, meaning they will bite you to see if you are food. don’t do things that make you look like food.

avoid swimming at night

during the day sharks tend to stay out past the sand bar, an area off the shore where sand has built up to a platform. however, at night they move closer to the shore, so try to avoid night swimming. and because the moon is out, the waves are always bigger and rougher.

stingray shuffle

the stingray shuffle is getting your feet buried slightly under the sand in the ocean and shuffling your feet aa you walk, hence the name. depending on what time of year you come it may be stingray season and it’s recommended to do this during that time to avoid getting stung.

be cautious of currents

currents can move you every which way and suddenly your 30 feet away from your set up on the sand. currents can also move you out to sea which can be extremely dangerous. so if you notice a tugging feeling or notice that your further away from your stuff, watch yourself to make sure you don’t stray to far away.

try not to shave the day of going into the water and try not to enter the water with open wounds

while oceans aren’t as bad as lakes when it comes to bacteria, they are still very bacteria filled and you can get an infection real quick. so shave a day or two before and make sure your wounds are closed because some infections can lead to rashes, bubbles, or even amputation.

check for red tide and research it

red tide isn’t talked about very often but it is disgusting. red tide is discolored sea water caused by toxic red dinoflagellates (microorganisms). it kills tons of sea life which causes said dead sea life to wash up on beaches and float in the water which attracts predators like sharks and big fish. it also releases toxins into the air which makes it hard to breathe, and for people with asthma or any other respiratory problems this can cause serious illness. the west coast of florida is dealing with some red tide right now if you want to research it.

try not to honk at people while driving

this is something taught in other southern states as well, and my parents taught it to me when i was learning to drive. if you honk at someone you are running the risk of being followed and shot. a lot of people have guns down here and they aren’t afraid to use them. now this will not happen every time you honk, i have been in cars where the driver has honked and nothing happened. but it’s better to be safe than sorry because some people don’t know how to handle their road rage.

prepare for the humidity

i know your weather app says that it’s 85 degrees but it feels like 93 when you go outside because of the humidity. that’s why florida people wear layers.

rain does not last as long here as it does in northern states

if it starts raining your day is not ruined. in florida , unless there is a hurricane or tropical storm, rain storms normally only last for like 20-30 minutes at a time. if there is a little group of them you will get spurts of rain and no rain for like an hour or two at most. when there are big storms they normally last for a couple hours, but we don’t get storms like that super often.

gator safety

something that it taught in all florida elementary schools, if an alligator is chasing you run in one direction for 10-15 feet, then make a hard turn in another direction and repeat (this is what we mean when we say running in zigzags, not like hopping side to side as you run), if an alligator has a grip on one of your limbs or someone else’s, plug your fingers or something else up it’s nose so it’s forced to open its mouth the breathe, and don’t touch gator babies, the mom can and will come for you.

shark safety

also something that is taught in all florida elementary schools, but shark safety is more common knowledge than gator safety. it a shark has a grip on you, punch them in the nose. it’s a sensitive point and they normally release you and swim away. as previously mentioned, sharks don’t like to eat people, they don’t think we taste good. so unless it’s starving sharks won’t try to eat a human that they can tell is a human. however if you don’t follow the previously stated shark safety tips, they may mistake you for a fish or seal.

unless you’re on a private beach, spots on the sand are first come first serve

just because you had a spot yesterday does not mean you have that spot for the rest of your vacation, that’s not how the beach works. you have to get there early if you want a specific spot.

don’t touch the manatees

manatees are an endangered species, meaning that you can not touch them. it’s illegal. that being said, if the manatee floats it’s happy round little self over to you and touches you then that’s fine, you can’t control what the manatee does. but if you actively swim towards and reach for the manatee and someone with a legal standing or a life guard sees you, you can get in trouble.

most sea life is not violent until provoked

manatees are not violent at all, they just float there, that’s why they’re endangered. but creatures like sharks and stingrays are not dangerous unless they think your there to fight or they mistake you for food. that’s why you stingray shuffle, because if you step on a stingray it will see you as a threat and sting you. and that’s why you take the shark prevention seriously so they don’t mistake you for food.

dolphin safety; admire from a distance

oh but dolphins are nice! wrong! dolphins are very dangerous creatures, just not in all the same ways that sharks are. they are one of the only creatures on the planet aside from humans who do malicious things knowing that they are malicious. dolphins at swim with experiences have given humans lacerations and broken bones. they are still predators and while it only happens rarely, dolphins do bite and attack people. dolphins are incredibly smart, strong, and fast. if they feel threatened they will swim at you full force and hit you with their head/body as hard as they possibly can. one woman named valerie ryan was hit by a dolphin which resulted in six spinal fractures, a damaged lung, and ptsd. dolphins are civil for the most part, but they are astonishingly smart and strong, and will attack if provoked or threatened, so it’s better to avoid close contact with them and admire from a distance or from a boat.

get reef safe sunscreen

all spray sunscreens and quite a few lotions contain toxic chemicals that are contributing to killing reefs. australian gold makes botanical reef safe sunscreen with spfs from 30 to 70, and they make a spray with the smallest amount of the toxic chemical that they can if you desperately need a spray. get reef safe sunscreen. it doesn’t matter if you’re not swimming in the ocean all run off from showers, sinks, toilets, and other water systems ends up in the ocean. so even if you spend the day in the city or at a theme park, if you come home a wash off that sunscreen it will end up in the ocean.

theme park tips

bring a mini battery powered or chargeable fan or you will wish that you did. watch the weather, if it looks like it’s going to rain head to a restaurant and eat lunch or dinner, by the time you’re done the rain will most likely be over. do what you want to do the most or what normally has the longest line right when the park opens, the line will be the shortest then. download the park apps to monitor the wait times for rides and to see if any are closed, delayed, or virtual line only. if you plan on buying souvenirs do so an 2-3 hours before the park closes, this way you won’t have to carry the bags around all day and you can beat the closing crowd. try to plan your route ahead of time so that you won’t be walking to and fro because someone wanted to do this ride that’s on the other side of the park and after that someone else wants to do a ride that’s right by the place you were before, if you don’t your feet will hurt like a mf at the end of the day and you’ll waste time walking all over the place. bring a travel sized deodorant, baby wipes, hand sanitizer, period products, and anything else you may need that they might not sell.

theme parks with kids (courtesy of my mother)

bring your own snacks and water (you’re allowed). once again, mini fan. frog togs are another way to keep kids cool without having to do much cause you just like put it on their neck. find a rest spot, my mom said that when she and my dad would take us to theme parks when we were little they had designated rest spots where they would sit and let us nap, eat snacks, and cool off in the shade. put a bead bracelet on your child with your name, their name, and your number on it if your worried that they may get lost. make reservations, hungry kids are no fun, and if they have to sit and wait for a restaurant for a long time they will get hangry, making a reservation around the time that they normally get hungry is a way to avoid this. bring a change of clothes.

think that’s all, and enjoy your vacation lol

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lnterjection · 4 years ago

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gods of red skies (of this world to comprise)

Based on @quaranmine‘s post “that meme where the FBI shows up at your house because you know too much except it’s DreamXD and Ranboo being the only person who knows what an end portal is,” but I make it angsty.

-----

“And here’s our table,” Phil said, and Ranboo’s jaw dropped in such standard enderman fashion he would have been ashamed, if he weren’t so preoccupied with the sight in front of him.

Slowly, he took a step forward. Leaned over and traced a finger across the pale, bumpy endstone, its tiny craters and rivers of raised ridges. It had been so long since he felt endstone beneath his skin.

The empty sockets stare back into him, deep cyans and swirls of black. You’re here, they seem to whisper. We’ve missed you.

“It’s a cool table, but I think this is a bit of an overreaction,” he heard Techno whisper behind him. “Phil, what do we - uh...”

“Do you - do you know what that is?” Ranboo asked. He struggled to keep the awe from his voice.

Phil glanced over his shoulders with a bewildered expression. “No?” he said, wings slowly fanning out. “What do you mean?”

“It’s-” Ranboo hesitated, taking a step back. Should he tell them? Should - should anyone in this cursed world have that sort of power? Wouldn’t that lead to more sides, more pointless statuses of power to fight over?

He made a split second decision.

“Um, nevermind,” he said. “I forgot.”

The lie came so easily. Ranboo internally winced at how familiar his muscles were with the phrase.

Techno eyes him, pupils narrowing, but he doesn’t comment. Phil gives them both a cheery smile and claps his hands in a neat, smooth motion, effectively shutting down the line of conversation.

“So!” he said. “Anarchy!”

Ranboo nodded along, tried not to be too weird (or well, weirder than he must already seem to them), and that was that.

Everything was freezing - his crystalized bed that felt more like ice than wool, his creaking, ramshackle roof with scatterings of icicles that dripped frost and cold, the way every muscle of his body felt like it was contracting into a ball of sharp diamond.

Ranboo couldn’t complain, though. He had a place to live. He was welcome here, which was so much more than what he deserved after everything he’s done.

He wasn’t going to freeze to death. Worse case scenario, he takes his blanket and hides under his bed. He’ll be fine. Fine.

His chattering teeth and rapidly shivering body certainly seemed to disagree with him.

Ranboo tried to draw in a clattering breath. The winds picked up, slicing every exposed inch of skin with an unforgiving glacier.

At least it’s not snowing, he thought weakly.

And then, through the screeching winds and enveloping blindness of night, he heard it.

There’s something crunching, outside the fences that made up his home. Ranboo blinked slowly, wondering if he’s finally gone off the deep end. If that last tether to sanity which his mind so desperately clung to was finally slipping away, and this was the moment he succumbed to that relentless war of the mind, never to resurface again.

For a terrible, traitorous moment, Ranboo hoped that it was Phil or Techno, here to invite him into their house of warmth, a sign of friendship or at least care, after he’d been invited into their anarchist group (which wasn’t taking sides, they just didn’t want to be ruled, was that so bad?).

“Not much of a house, is it?”

And like an arrow to his heart, that hope was promptly smashed to pieces.

“Shut up” Ranboo gritted out to the figure that was no doubt leering over him with that stupid smily mask and stupid smug voice. “You’re just jealous you don’t even have one.”

His mind scrambled around desperately as he suppressed a terrified scream. Is this his mind again? But that voice doesn’t show up outside the panic room, or does it? What does he know, really?

Was this actually Dream, here to kill him? To take revenge on for destroying the community house? Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to drag his face away from the swath of blankets that he was clinging to, but he could hear the whine of the fence gates swinging. Something snapping shut in place.

Dream was definitely here, unless Ranboo had, indeed, well and truly lost it. Which was a likely possibility.

Dream, what was Dream doing all the way out here? And why now, of all times, did Ranboo decide to finally grow a spine?

Well, either he was hallucinating big time, or Dream was here to kill him. Either way, it’s not like anything he did will matter.

“I have a house,” Dream said, sounding mildly affronted. “Now, this pathetic excuse of a cattle pen certainly can’t be called one.”

“Just shut up and kill me already, Dream,” Ranboo yelled. His voice was muffled and thrown about by the wind, but it echoed through his bones nonetheless, and this was gratifying in some horrifying way because either way it’s not like what he’ll say will make any difference. “What, are you here to finally gloat over me too? Found a different target than Tommy, huh? Just can’t find a better use of your time than torturing teenagers-”

“What? Woah, I am not Dream,” Dream said, and Ranboo took a moment to process this information.

“What?”

He finally looks up, squinting through the darkness and the biting way the winds attacked his eyes.

The person that had his arms cross in front of him looked like a carbon copy of Dream, only with a pale blue hoodie instead of the usual lime green one.

“Just because you’ve put on a different outfit doesn’t mean you’ve changed who you are,” Ranboo snapped through chatters. “Fuck off or kill me, Dream. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I told you, I’m not Dream,” was the reply. “Check your communicator.”

Ranboo, slowly, drew out the device and glanced at the pale, glowing screen.

DreamXD whispers to you: I’m here.

“Really reassuring,” Ranboo said.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the nice ones?” ‘DreamXD’ asked. “I thought you had manners, or something like that.”

“Since when have manners ever helped me?” Ranboo bites, suddenly feeling something sullen draw his stomach down. Bittering clung to every word. “It’s like nothing around here gets done without violence.”

“That’s not my problem.” DreamXD made some shrugging motion, slowly turning his shoulders in an unsteady fashion like he was just getting used to moving his body. “I’m just here to...”

Ranboo flinched as a glimmering stick appeared in DreamXD’s hand. He recognized the telltale sheen of glowing enchantments, but that shouldn't be possible because you can’t enchant sticks.

Dream, or DreamXD, or Not Dream, whatever the fuck he was - waved his glowing stick above him in what Ranboo assumed was supposed to be a menacing manner. He looked mostly like a deranged serial killer, which was, concerningly, also an apt description for the actual Dream.

“I need to make an alteration to your book,” he said. “Hand it over.”

Ranboo stared at him for a long, drawn moment. His mind was blank, unresponsive, why would he want the memory book-

And then, his memory book was in the other entity’s hands, and Ranboo began yelling again.

“Give it back!” He lunged forward, but DreamXD teleported to the side and slammed his fist down on Ranboo’s back. He hit a faceful of snow and dirt, and a pained whine escaped his throat as the heel of a boot dug into his neck.

Everything hurt. His back is now throbbing. Ranboo suppressed a sob as he heard the telltale sound of pages flapping wildly in the wind - and then the sound of ripping paper, grating against every bone of his body.

Again - no, this couldn’t be happening again, why is this happening again, he was so careful and he hadn’t done anything and surely he had been good this time, hadn’t he?

His mind only just seemed to process what was happening. His memory book - his memory - was being stolen, torn, violated yet again and this time Ranboo could do nothing but listen and cry into the cold, gritty dirt while his neck is on the verge of snapping and what did he do?

He just wanted peace. He just wanted to be loved - not even loved, to just be left alone. To live without constant fear of pain or death or someone destroying everything he held dear. Was that so much to ask for?

Yes, a part of his mind whispered. You blew up the community house. You betrayed L’Manberg. You didn’t even have the spine to tell Techno and Phil, your new allies, what the end portal is. They welcome you onto their land and group and you repay them with more hidden secrets? How else will you betray everyone?

Everything part of him was burning. Ranboo wanted to slice and strip off all his skin, to submerge himself in freezing cold water and close his eyes and not have to worry about any of this anymore and why did he want all of that so much-

“There we go,” the voice above him suddenly said, and Ranboo made a choked noise as something hard kicked deep into his side. He tumbled across the floor with a few soft crunches before going limp, body splayed at unnatural angles that twisted knots around all his muscles. His throat felt more parched than desert sands, scraped raw and bloody.

Something thudded in front of him, and Ranboo somehow had the strength to claw himself over through a filmy, blotched vision and drag his memory book back into his embrace. There were pages missing, ripped from the spine in jagged chunks like an unfinished puzzle shredded apart from frustration.

He choked again as a hand closed around his neck and dragged him up and something sharp and flaming jabbed into his chest.

A coarse sleeve muffled his wailing scream.

This pain was worse, so much worse, worse than the wither skulls and being dunked in water and all the stabs and slices he’s ever endured combined, his insides were burning and burning and on fire and covered in lava and Ranboo thought for a few fleeting moment that he would combust into sheer nothingness and he wanted to forget, forget why am I still here forget everything please I don’t want to be here-

“There we go,” the voice, that Dream voice, said, and it sounded so sickeningly like Dream but also not at all, because whereas Dream‘s voice always held a demeaning smugness about him this one had nothing but cold indifference, and Ranboo wasn’t sure which was worse but he couldn’t focus to think anyway because his entire world was red and white and burning and what the fuck was that stick enchanted with-

At some point, the pressure stopped. It faded away increments, and all Ranboo could comprehend was that eventually, as his mind flopped away from the shelter of nothingness, he was on the ground again and Dream was above him and everything was horribly, horribly silent.

Why, he wanted to scream again to the howling winds, but his throat was spent and dead and he couldn’t move or do anything except lie there and spasm erratically like a dying animal with its guts already pooling across the stiff, blue grass.

What did I do why is this happening please I’m so sorry I’m so sorry it’s all my fault please stop I don’t want to die-

“Let this be a warning,” the voice said in a smooth, terribly indifferent way. “If you write down what happened here, or about that end portal, I assure you that things will get much, much worse. And if you tell anyone, anyone else even a hint of what that portal is-”

Ranboo couldn’t even flinch as something cold pressed against his throat, as much as his mind leaped at the feeling.

“I guarantee you will never see the light of day again.”

Was this what it had all been about? The portal? That he was being punished for his origins after all, for having the - the knowledge itself? For having the power to utilize it, even if he never would?

“You really are Dream, aren’t you,” Ranboo rasped. He creaked his neck up to stare blankly into that pearly white mask. Every part of him, from his screaming body to his scattered, twisting thoughts felt weighted with magma, smoldering in its own ruins.

Dream shrugged, a bit faster this time, and disappeared in a shower of flaking purple particles that drifted around like the snow that had, during some part of all this, began to fall.

His eyes stung. His entire face was covered in tears, sharp daggers flicking the skin across with every movement. Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to care. He cradled his cold, crumpled memory book to his chest and knew that, as much as he hoped it was, this was not just a nightmare. Not in a world like this.

-----

Read on Ao3 here.

#ranboo #dream #dream smp #dreamxd #technoblade #philza #dream smp fanfiction #fanfiction #dsmp #dsmp lore #minecraft #mcyt #interject fanfic

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mollymauk-teafleak · 4 years ago

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and I’m building it with you

This is an addition to my toymaker Percy fic, done as a Christmas present for my wonderful friend @minky-for-short who is just fantastic and wonderful and deserves the best <3

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3!

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Percy finds himself on babysitting duty, something he should be far better prepared for than he is...

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Having a child in his toy store shouldn’t have made Percy as nervous as it did. He saw so many of them every single day.

On one level he knew that, of course he did. But it didn’t help that this was the child of the woman who he...well.

A woman he was growing rather fond of.

It had been a slow morning when Vex had burst through the doors of his store in the early hours of the morning. Percy had been sitting behind the counter without so much as some sanding to do, scribbling some new concepts in his notebook, when the door had opened so quickly he’d worried the bell would fly off its hook.

Seeing Vex standing there had made his chest feel a little tight but in that good way he was starting to get used to. She did come by most mornings now, midway through after her early shift at the bakery to bring him some pastries that hadn’t sold from the bakery and a coffee. At first it had been to talk about how Raven enjoyed his Winter’s Crest gift, giving feedback on how the little wooden bear moved and functioned. Now it was weeks past Winter’s Crest and Vex was still coming nearly every morning if she worked the right hours. And now they talked about everything and anything that came into their heads, minutes running past nearly completely unnoticed.

Percy wasn’t sure how Vex saw him now, as a friend or as the man behind the counter in a strange little store or anything else. He just knew she brightened his days.

He’d been about to smile and say how lovely it was to see her earlier than usual when he’d noticed just how harried she’d looked, how she’d clearly been going at a frantic pace, the panic and guilt in her eyes. Of course there was always guilt settled in the back of her eyes, like clouds stirring in a slate grey sky, but this morning it had been at the forefront as the story came pouring out.

Being called into work last minute on a day off, Vax and Shaun having left the city to spend a week in Marquet for Shaun’s birthday, no one else available to watch Raven, could Percy maybe, could he possibly, only if it wasn’t too much trouble but she didn’t know where else to go.

Percy had agreed immediately of course, accepting the warm weight of the little boy into his arms. He didn’t need her to say it in so many ways but he understood how important her job was to her, how much she needed the money it brought in. There had been a time in his life when every minute had been counted in coppers too.

And the look of relief on her face when he’d agreed, when he’d promised it was all okay and he’d take care of Raven until her shift ended in a few hours, was worth so much.

But now the door had closed and he was left alone, holding a seven month old boy and, if he was being absolutely honest, no clue at all how to look after one at all.

But how hard could looking after a kid in a toyshop be?

Percy had broken his third pencil in twenty minutes, cracked to splinters in his grip like the first two. He slumped until his forehead hit the counter with a painful thunk.

And still Raven kept wailing at the top of his lungs.

Percy made himself jerk up, pushing back his chair and sinking back down beside Raven’s stroller. The little toddler, this tiny little thing that could make so much gods damn noise, with Vex’s soft, sweet eyes and her dark hair and those enormous ears, thrashed in his puffy winter coat, face red with the effort of his crying.

He’d been like that ever since Vex had left, after one last kiss to his chubby cheeks. He’d watched her round the corner with his enormous dark eyes, and no sooner had the last edge of her scarf disappeared from view than his lower lip began to tremble, his eyes filled and his lungs burst.

An hour later and he still hadn’t stopped. Percy had dangled shiny things in front of him, he’d offered him the bottle Vex had left in his backpack, he’d turned the radio in to try and give him something to listen to but none of it had worked.

“Look,” Percy hissed through a very tense jaw, firmly reminding himself that he could not lose his patience with a baby, “I know this isn’t where you want to be. I know I am no one’s first choice for a babysitter. But I’m what you have, okay?”

Raven just wailed harder, clutching his little wooden bear that Vex had passed on was named Trinket. He held it tight in his pudgy little fists, pulling it close as if in comfort.

Percy exhaled, shoulders slumping, any frustration that had been building draining out of him. He could remember when a little boy with dark hair had clung onto a cloth bird just like that when he’d wanted someone to come and stroke his hair and keep him safe.

“You just miss her, don’t you?” he murmured.

Raven burbled miserably, eyes huge and streaming. Percy shook his head at himself, genly picking him up out of his stroller, settling him on one hip as he walked to the door, turning the sign to closed. They’d barely had a handful of people in the shop all day anyway and clearly this young man required his full attention. And deserved it.

“You seem a curious little chap,” Percy hummed, bouncing him gently to chase away the last of his sniffling, which had petered off as soon as he’d been picked up, “Maybe you’d like to see my workshop?”

Not many people would find the little room he kept at the back of his shop as a comfort. But with no room with his little apartment for the bigger tools he needed for his work, that space had become his little piece of calm. Everything was ordered there, everything in its proper place. He could put his hand on whatever he needed, make beautiful things and solve any problem. Things made sense as long as he had that heavy door closed behind him.

Which was why he’d never invited anyone else in here. But he could make an exception for Raven.

Almost immediately, the little boy seemed entranced. Percy didn’t know if it was the shine of the tools lined up on the wall pegs in their neat marker outlines or the warmth of the old furnace combined with it’s gentle crackling but his hitching shoulders stopped almost immediately. He made a kind of soft humming instead, not unlike the purring of a cat.

Percy smiled, “See? I thought you’d like it in here. You look like a young man who appreciates quiet.”

He took a seat at the workbench, making sure to sweep away any wood shavings with his free hand. He’d been painting the last time he’d sat there just before opening, his case of paint pots was by his elbow, a neat rainbow of colours in their little leather pockets. The carved animals he’d been bringing to life were half done; he’d always intended to come back to them at the end of the day. There was a dragon crouched before them, coiled as if ready to spring, top half in a pale pine and back half in glittering green scales.

Raven’s huge eyes fixed on it immediately, mouth dropping open in awe.

Percy chuckled, “Would you like to watch me finish him off? He looks rather odd like that.”

Raven made a burble that seemed very much in the affirmative so Percy set him in his lap, with Trinket in his little one, and let him lean against the edge of the bench as he selected a brush. He found the pearlescent green he’d been using, back in its proper pocket of course, making sure Raven could see it catch the light as it dripped from the brush.

It really did seem that as long as he had something to look at and someone holding him, the little half elf was perfectly content. He only made the slightest of happy, contented noises as he watched Percy fill in each tiny scale, slowly bringing the dragon from dull pine to colourful life. Before long, he found himself smiling fondly, an emotion he welcomed but couldn’t quite name roiling in his chest at the fact that Raven trusted him so much.

Percy had very clever eyes to go along with his clever hands. Just like he didn’t need to be told that Vex needed to take every shift she was given, he didn’t need to be told that their situation before she’d moved in with her brother and his husband had been less than ideal. It was in the way her eyes darted quickly around the room each time she entered, like she was dramatically mapping it to see how to respond. It was in how tightly she clung to everything that mattered to her, it had been a good handful of visits before she’d let Percy hold Raven. It was in those clouds of guilt and sadness moving behind her beautiful grey eyes, like everything she did, some buried part of her mind questioned. Someone who spoke with another’s voice.

He would recognise those signs a mile off. He saw them in the mirror everyday.

And it leaked onto Raven as well, the same ink stained the both of them. There was a bond between them that was in addition to the one between a mother and a child, something sadder and stranger.

So he was more than touched that Raven settled into his company so easily. He understood what it took.

And Vex’ahlia…

He would take his time. He would do nothing until he was completely and totally sure it was what she wanted. And if that never happened, well, he was happy just to be her friend.

Together, he and Raven painted all of the animals he had left, the dragon got his shining green scales, the lion got his rich honey gold coat, the giraffe got his blotches, the parrot got his rainbow brilliance. Hours must have slipped by in drops of shining colour, with Percy humming to himself and Raven eventually dozing in perfect contentment, neither of them paying the slightest bit of attention.

Because when Vex pushed back the door to the shop, face set in a confused frown as to why the store would be closed in the afternoon, knowing to go straight to the workshop when she didn’t see either of them behind the counter, she came in to find them both asleep. Percy, nodding in his work chair, chin tucked to his chest and Raven curled up tightly in his arms, settled happily and safely.

Vex felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight. Even Vax and Shaun struggled to get Raven to go over, he’d usually refuse for anyone but her. To see his face, soft and gentle in untroubled sleep, held so safe and protected in Percy’s arms brought tears to her eyes before she could stop them.

But maybe that was okay.

She didn’t wake them up right away, enjoying the little scene too much to ruin it. As she leaned in the doorway of the workshop and the gentle smile crossed her face, she felt the same want ache in her chest, the one she’d been feeling for some time now. And she told herself the same thing she had again and again.

Take your time.

#percahlia #toymaker percy au #modern au #fluff #baby fluff #please reblog and comment!#critical role

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runpogorun · 4 years ago

Text

Show Me Your Scars

Here is my DDE 2021 New Year’s Day fic @daredevilexchange (a few days late, shhh) for @matt-murdok. Sorry it was late, but I hope it was worth the wait!

This is set in that horrible time after season 2, when Matt and Foggy aren't on good terms. Matt is working with the Defenders. @metaderivative and @iheartallthethings were amazing with their help on this fic.

Read it here, or over on AO3.

Enjoy!

_____

Foggy doesn't bother to announce his arrival with a knock. If Matt is conscious, he'll have heard Foggy long before he slid his key into the door. If Matt hasn't heard him… well, Foggy isn't letting himself think about unconsciousness, or worse.

It's dark in Matt’s entryway, of course, vague blotches of colour mottling the cavern that Matt uses as a lounge. Foggy drops his keys and a sigh on the side table, and flicks on the hall light. He can see a tuft of dark hair at the end of the couch, and his back is thankful he won't be scraping Matt off the floor.

"What are you doing here, Foggy?" Matt's coherent, even. Wonders will never cease.

"You know, it's great being wanted." Foggy nearly turns on his heel to leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes slow, deliberate steps, as he moves away from the warm light of the hall and towards the purplish billboard-lit gloom of the lounge. "It makes my day. Or, whatever you call this sort of time."

Matt grunts but doesn't turn his head to track Foggy as he ambles over to perch on the edge of the coffee table. Matt's half-sitting, stretched out full length. His eyes are closed, and he looks pinched, in pain, even as the lights dance across his face. Foggy can’t identify any visible injuries. "There's no reason for you to be here," Matt says.

"That's where you're wrong." Foggy waits, but Matt gives him nothing more, so he sighs. Matt seems to make him sigh more and more these days. He decides to stick to fact. "Jones told me you might need a welfare check."

Matt shakes his head slightly without opening his eyes, so Foggy stops trying. He stands, walks to the kitchen and fills a glass with water, snagging a bottle of pills from the shelf on his way back. He puts the glass on the coffee table, where Matt can reach it easily, and shakes the bottle before throwing it on Matt's stomach. "Ibuprofen." Matt opens his eyes, picks up the bottle and runs his fingers over the braille label, like he doesn't believe Foggy and needs to confirm for himself.

Foggy thrusts his hands in his pockets and watches as Matt twists the cap off the bottle with some difficulty, and shakes out two capsules. He swallows the pills, then reaches out, groping for the glass, but his aim’s off. He must be feeling pretty bad. Foggy takes Matt’s flailing hand and guides it to the glass.

“Thanks,” Matt says, grudging. Foggy knows how much Matt hates feeling helpless, so he shrugs. Matt drains the glass, and manages to get it back on the coffee table without smashing it. “I’m fine, really.”

“Yeah, sure,” Foggy says. Matt really does look miserable. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his breaths come short. Foggy casts about and spots a blanket hanging over the back of one of the armchairs. He picks it up, shakes it out, spreads it over Matt. God, he hates this asshole. “Ribs?”

Matt nods, curtly, then says, “You don’t need to stay.”

“Oh, I know.” Foggy paces over to the window and looks through one of the grimy panes, down into the darkened alley, still with the heavy humidity of summer, then back over his shoulder. “Want to tell me what happened tonight?”

“C’mon, Foggy. What do you want here?” Matt squirms slightly, pulling the blanket around himself.

“Whatever. I’ll get out of your hair.” Foggy turns and leans against the brickwork, holds up a finger. “Just tell me one thing.”

Matt raises a questioning brow, as his hands squeeze the blanket.

“What’s CPLR 3211?” Foggy asks.

Matt frowns in confusion. “What?”

“You heard me. CPLR 3211. What is it? What’s it for?”

“Motion to dismiss?” Matt replies. “Or is this something cryptic?”

Foggy relaxes and wanders closer to Matt. “Nah, you got it right. I’m just testing your lucidity.” Testing that Matt’s safe to be on his own.

“With my knowledge of New York’s consolidated laws?”

“It’s not something you’d forget easily.”

Matt concedes the point by tilting his head. “So now you want me to dismiss you?”

“Don’t imagine you’re the one calling the shots, here.” Foggy stands where he is, studying Matt’s face while he tries to decide between coffee, alcohol, and the door. “You know it would be an enormous pain in my ass if you died, right?” Foggy asks. “So I need you to promise that if I leave you won’t die.”

“I will never die,” Matt quotes, the corner of his mouth quirking.

Foggy snorts, suddenly on the edge of laughter. "Yeah. Okay, Gary." He sobers, looking again at Matt’s taut face. “Don’t lie to me. Are you going to be okay if I leave you alone?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Foggy nods absently. “Gary was a better actor than you.” He doesn’t really believe Matt’s ‘fine,’ but Matt also doesn’t look like he’s lining up to shuffle off this mortal coil. “You want any help getting in bed?”

Matt closes his eyes again, shakes his head. “I’m here for the night.”

“Need the bathroom?”

“Foggy. I’m not an invalid.”

“Okay.” Foggy nods. “Okay. See you, man.”

Matt says nothing as Foggy walks away. It’s for the best, really.

_____

He spots them, a week or so later, walking towards him on the opposite side of the street. Matt’s grinning like an idiot, and Jess is trying to hide her own smile, looking at him with fondness. Foggy’s glad they’re working together, he really is. Matt needs someone looking out for him, and Foggy appreciates the sporadic texts she sends him. Matt’s even holding her elbow, the way he used to hold Foggy’s.

Foggy readjusts the strap of his briefcase where it’s suddenly cutting into his shoulder. Because he can’t tear his eyes away he sees Matt’s smile falter, his head tilt, and because Jess is looking right at Matt she catches it, too. She tenses, scans the street as Matt shakes his head slightly and mutters something. Jess relaxes, turns her head to look across the street just as they draw level and locks eyes with Foggy, raising her brows. Foggy half-smiles then looks away and carries on with his journey. He can’t let this derail him. He has clients to meet, a reputation as a capable lawyer to uphold. He even manages to whistle.

And if Karen can’t meet him for drinks that night, and he spends the night crying into his whisky glass alone in his apartment, no one needs to know.

The next day he gets a text.

Sort your shit out

I’m not the one with the shit, he replies.

Then he adds, Thanks for texting last week.

Jess replies surprisingly quickly. He was pissed at me

He’s an asshole

Agreed

Keep him alive, please, Jones

Jess doesn’t reply to that one.

_____

Foggy sees Matt in other places. At the courthouse, in a cafe. He can’t help but scan him for injuries, knowing that his heart’s pitter-pattering in his chest betrays his concern, and finding no new injuries, subsequent relief. Or pulling at the sight of a poorly-masked limp, a black eye not-so-hidden by dark glasses.

When Foggy sees Matt unexpectedly, he tries to feel revulsion, but he can’t. Instead, being close to Matt Murdock summons pain, and frustration, and despair. The feeling swirl and threaten to drown him, and he waits for them to coalesce into a single entity, something he can name and vanquish. He expects it to be disgust, loathing, or even hatred, but that hasn't happened yet. And Foggy can’t work out why. So he learns that after he sees Matt he’ll lose his appetite, that his breath will catch, that his body will worry.

There’s something else that he feels, in the centre of his chest, but he stubbornly refuses to name it. All the time and betrayal hasn’t weathered away its rough edges, and it has a habit of spiking him at the most inconvenient times. It would bring him to his knees, if he let it.

Matt always plays their encounters perfectly straight, never betraying what he might be reading from Foggy’s traitorous body, never straying from polite yet distant when they need to interact.

Foggy knows there’s chatter at the courthouse - What happened to Nelson and Murdock? They were practically married, and now I never see them together.

Foggy lived through the past months, but he doesn’t know, either. He doesn’t know how they ended up here, and if they can ever get to a new place.

_____

The next time Jess contacts him, she calls. At the panic in her voice he bolts out of his warm bed. Foggy has never heard her panic before.

When he arrives at Matt’s apartment his hands are shaking and he struggles to slide his key into the lock, but before he can manage it the door swings open, revealing a broad chest, clad in a hoodie flecked with bullet holes. Luke nods and steps aside wordlessly as Foggy pushes past him, searching for Matt.

All the lights are on, which isn’t saying a lot. The poor lighting casts deep shadows, appropriate for a man with too many dark secrets. Foggy has eyes only for Matt, stretched out on the couch again, bare to the waist and with an arcing red line of sutures across his chest. His breathing is so shallow that for a moment Foggy fears the worst. Matt’s deathly pale, his lashes dark against his cheek, and gives no sign whatsoever that he’s clocked Foggy’s arrival. The bright splash of red on the floor paints a picture in crimson that takes Foggy back to another night, another pool of blood. Foggy feels his legs weaken underneath him.

Foggy turns to look at Claire, where she’s kneeling beside the coffee table, cleaning up her supplies. Surgical instruments clatter into a plastic box, alongside the once-sterile wrappings of her surgical kit and little suture packets. It’s less tidy than usual, as though Claire was rushing. Claire’s hands are shaking, and her movements are jerky. She looks like she’s gone beyond her standard frustration, like she’s been grappling with fear.

Claire glances at him, then back at her work. “If Danny hadn’t got here quickly….” Claire cuts herself off and swallows hard, composes herself. “There’s only so much I can do like this.” She gestures angrily and shakily at her supplies, at Matt’s prone form, and throws bloody swabs into the box. “This isn’t an operating theatre.”

Foggy lets out a long, shuddering breath. “Thank you, Claire,” he says. He knows it’s inadequate, that it doesn’t even begin to cover what happened here tonight or any of the other nights before. .

Claire pauses, her tidying finished, and there’s a stillness to her. It’s like the night has drawn in, circling the three of them in a hideous diorama. Foggy feels himself frozen and watches as Claire looks at Matt, still as death. She shakes her head minutely, then slowly rises to her feet.

Jess is suddenly there, holding a cup of coffee in Claire’s direction, and the moment passes. Claire takes the cup with resigned relief, and Foggy shivers in surprise. He hadn’t noticed Jess at all. He looks over and sees Danny slumped at the dining table, chopsticks in hand and an empty take-out container beside him.

“Drink that, and I’ll take you home,” Jess tells Claire, then looks at Luke. “You’re in charge of Fisty.” Luke nods, and wanders over to Danny, poking him in the side with a finger.

“Ow!” Danny yelps, and stands up stiffly.

“Quit being so dramatic,” Jess grouses.

“It takes a lot of energy to channel my Qi like that-” Danny begins, but Luke picks him up and hefts him over a shoulder. Danny protests briefly, pounding ineffectually against Luke’s back, then gives up, sagging in defeat. Luke nods at Foggy, and makes for the roof access stairs, disappearing up them more quickly and quietly than a man his size should be able to.

Claire knocks her coffee back, and discards the cup on the table, looks hard at Foggy. “You need to stay with him.”

Foggy nods. “How long will he be like this?”

She shrugs. “He’s lost a lot of blood. Danny’s fist is kinda miraculous, but I think it has limits.”

“Just tell me what I need to know. Please.”

Claire and Jess exchange a look, and Jess clears her throat. “Luke and Danny were working together, Matt and I were doing a different area. Matt got cut bad. It was deep,” Jess supplies. “We were close so I called the others then got him here, and Claire met us, but…” Her already-pale skin turns whiter still, and she swallows hard.

“Luke and Danny showed up when we needed them to,” Claire says. She looks again at Matt, and he watches her watching Matt. “He’s going to need to rest for a few days,” Claire says.

Foggy laughs mirthlessly. “Have you met Matt?” he asks.

“He might not have any choice this time. Keep him warm, make him drink and eat. Call me only if you need to. You know the drill.”

Foggy nods, following Claire and Jess with his eyes as they disappear around the corner. The front door opens and closes, and Foggy is alone with Matt. He rubs his arms, feeling the sudden chill of fall, and looks down at the person he once called his best friend. Matt’s still unconscious, and he looks cold.

In Matt’s room Foggy digs out socks, sweats, and a hoodie, and the soft blanket Matt keeps at the end of his bed. He spreads the blanket over Matt, and piles the clothing on the coffee table. Foggy allows himself another look at Matt’s face, and he feels the spiky thing flip over in his chest. He tucks in the edges of the blanket, to keep Matt warm, and goes to make himself a coffee.

Foggy’s left a few magazines and a couple of novels at Matt’s apartment, and they’re still in a small, neat pile on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. He retrieves his old, dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice, and sits down in the armchair closest to the window. From here the billboard lights Matt’s face, and Foggy can look up every few pages to check that Matt’s still breathing.

Foggy sets the book aside and stretches, and walks over to stand above Matt. Matt’s skin in waxy, but his breathing is smoother, a little deeper. Foggy should be angry at Matt, but he’s just sad, worried and lonely. He wants his best friend back.

Foggy sinks slowly to his knees and reaches up a hand to stroke back Matt’s hair. His skin is clammy, which Foggy remembers tends to happen when someone nearly bleeds out. His stomach twists again with fear for Matt, and for a fleeting moment Foggy imagines a world without Matt in it. It’s a dark place. But Matt is here and breathing. Foggy finds himself leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Matt’s forehead.

Because this is Foggy’s life, Matt chooses this moment to stir and groan, and Foggy jumps back.

“Jess?” Matt asks, eyes pinching tightly.

“Sorry, man, it’s just me.”

“Fog?” Matt croaks, uncertain. “I can’t, I’m not.” He swallows and his eyes open, roving aimlessly and frantically as he brings one hand to the wound on his side. Foggy’s seen Matt’s eyes wander like this before, when he’s disoriented, so he grabs for Matt’s clammy hand and gives it a squeeze. Matt holds on tight, a drowning man clutching a lifering, and the lost look fades from his face. He clears his throat. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago. Jess called me.”

Matt closes his eyes again. “Claire was here.”

“She was.”

“She stitched me up.”

“Ye-es. And I think that, maybe, Danny did the magic healing glowing fist thing? Claire seemed kinda upset.”

“Because Danny took over?”

“More like…” Foggy swallows, fighting down an edge of panic. “She nearly lost you.”

“Oh. Mmm.” Matt pauses, like he’s taking stock of his body. “That tracks.” His tone lacks inflection.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Oh fuck you, Murdock.” That earns him a half-smile. “You thirsty?” Foggy asks, reaching for casual, but falling wide of the mark.

Matt swallows, with effort, and licks his lips. “Um. Yes.”

Foggy lets go, and doesn’t miss that Matt flexes his hand, like he hadn’t realised they were still holding each other, before slipping it under the blanket.

In the kitchen, he fills the electric kettle and puts it on to boil for tea, then retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge. There’s not much food on hand, looks like Danny got to the leftovers, but at least there’s bread for a sandwich.

“It’s late, Foggy. Go home to bed.”

Foggy aggressively ignores this, setting out two mugs with tea bags, and retrieving milk and sugar. He starts slapping together two PB&Js, and finds half a block of dark chocolate in the usual spot. The jug clicks off, and he fills the mugs. The familiarity of the task is soothing, distracting. Matt doesn’t seem to be as aware of Foggy’s movements as he usually is, and he hasn’t tried to sit up.

As the tea bags steep, Foggy prepares himself for the conversation he knows is coming. He has to be the instigator.

Tea bags out, Foggy adds milk and honey. Matt doesn’t like his tea sweet, but he gets less choice on a night when he nearly died. Foggy he tucks the water bottle under his arm, picks up the plate of sandwiches and chocolate, and carries Matt’s mug over to the lounge. “You need one of those lap trays they make for old people.”

Matt groans as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. Foggy stuffs a piece of chocolate at Matt’s mouth and he makes a face, but takes it without protest. The blanket has slipped down, and goosebumps stipple Matt’s chest, his nipples standing out, hard. Foggy hands Matt the hoodie and Matt takes it with surprise, running his hands over it to orient himself before slowly and painfully pulling it on and lifting the hood up over his head.

“Drink your tea,” Foggy says, and goes back to collect his own. He snags the whisky bottle and pours a hefty tot into his cup before returning to sit in one of Matt’s armchairs.

“Do I get some of that?” Matt asks.

“Maybe when you’ve got your blood volume up again.”

Matt’s surprisingly tractable, eating his sandwiches without complaint. Of course, it’s not particularly reassuring because Foggy knows it means that Matt’s got to be feeling terrible.

They sit in relative silence, Matt seemingly focused on drinking his tea without spilling it, until Foggy realises it’s past 5am. He pulls himself out of the airchair and goes to switch on Matt’s espresso machine.

When Foggy moves away, Matt reaches for the rest of his clothing. Foggy lurks in the kitchen while Matt dresses slowly, awkwardly, dropping his pants and kicking them under the coffee table. Foggy’s seen this enough times to know better than to offer help. Matt pulls on one sock then sits back, panting. Foggy despairs for Matt and his abysmal sense of self-worth. He wishes he could love Matt into healing, but he knows it doesn’t work like that. When Matt stands to pull up his sweatpants he sways slightly and clutches the back of the couch for balance. Foggy looks away, attends to the coffee, makes his own Irish.

Foggy puts Matt’s coffee on the coffee table in front of him, although Matt’s lying down and doesn’t reach for the cup. Foggy sits down again in the armchair, balancing his mug as he leans back, and fixes Matt with a stare he hopes Matt can feel.

“So.”

“So. You heading out?”

“I’m here to look after you,” Foggy says.

Matt scowls a little. “Don’t you have work?”

“It’s Saturday.” Foggy spreads his hands wide, like a magician presenting his trick. “I can stay all weekend.”

Matt makes a noise of frustration. “Just go, Foggy.”

“No can do. I’m staying.”

“You’ve left before.”

Foggy feels a stab of anger. “Because you told me to. You made it very clear that you didn’t want me around again.”

Matt’s jaw tenses, and Foggy takes a deep breath, willing himself to regain some calmness. When he speaks again, he’s proud that his voice doesn’t shake.

“We’ve already been through this, and I have no interest in doing it again.” He takes another breath. “You matter to me, Matt. Once upon a time I met this cool guy and we became friends and spent tons of time together. I even started a business with him.”

“And then you found out he wasn’t who you thought he was,” Matt says, with a wide, dismissive gesture.

“Yeah, and it sucked.” Foggy looks down at the hands in his lap and realises he’s wringing them.

“So why are you still here? I thought we were done.”

Foggy looks up at that. “I’m not done.”

“Foggy. I feel like shit. I don’t want to do this now.” Matt does look like shit, but that’s not the point here.

“Yea, well, you never want to talk about it on the rare day you’re uninjured, so...”

“So drop it.” Matt’s face is blank, emotion masked, facing the wall in front of him, not Foggy.

“Stop pushing me away, Matt”

A flicker of anger crosses Matt’s face. “You’re only here out of a misplaced sense of loyalty.”

“Misplaced? Matt. Why can’t you accept that I want to be here?”

“Because you don’t. Because I’m...”

“What?”

Matt closes his eyes and tips his head back, inhales like he’s praying for strength. Then he straightens, facing Foggy head on. “I’m not worth it.”

“This again. You must think I’m a poor judge of character.”

“Maybe when it comes to me,” Matt says, nodding.

“You’re such a selfish asshole.”

Matt nods again, agreeing, which is frankly irritating. “Also, I’m not. Not. I…”

“Not what, Matt? Reliable? A good decorator? Because I already knew that.”

“I’m not.” Matt stops again, takes a deep breath. “It’s not you, it’s me. You know that. I’m just…” Matt still can’t finish the thought.

“Are you trying to say that you’re not likable? Because I think you know that’s not true. You’re… magnetic.”

“Until people find out who I really am.”

Fogy shuffles forward in his seat and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning towards Matt. “Matt, I need you to listen to what I’m about to say. Okay? You have inherent worth as a human, and you matter to me, very much. And that isn’t contingent on us getting along all the time, or you avoiding injury, although I’d really prefer it if you didn’t get hurt. So stop trying to push me away, because I like things a lot better when we aren’t fighting. Or we can squabble, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Matt’s averted his face, away from Foggy and the billboard. He bites his lower lip and shakes his head slightly, and doesn’t reply.

“I love you, man,” Foggy says. “And it hurts seeing you be self-destructive. But that doesn’t stop me loving you.”

Matt squeezes his eyes shut, and Foggy sees a glistening tear slide down the curve of his cheek. Matt’s jaw works, and Foggy waits him out, giving him time to speak.

“There’s a difference between what you tell me I should know, and what I believe,” Matt finally says.

Foggy hates everyone who has left Matt over the years. But he can’t hate Matt.

“You’re so smart, Matt, but you don’t understand feelings at all.”

Suddenly the space between them yawns, impossibly far, and Foggy has to bridge it. In a rush, he stands and moves to sit beside Matt on the couch, and he reaches across Matt’s lap to pick up his left hand from where it’s balled in a fist on his thigh, forcing Matt to turn his shoulders towards Foggy.

Foggy looks at Matt’s hand. The knuckles are bruised, of course, but it’s the same hand that he’s seen reading, skimming over surfaces in a real or feigned search for information, the same hand that’s so often held firmly but lightly to Foggy’s elbow.

Gently, Foggy unfurls Matt’s fingers, spreading them wide and lifting Matt’s hand to press against the centre of Foggy’s chest, with his own hand spread above it.

The rest of Matt unfurls along with his hand, softening and reaching towards Foggy.

Foggy watches as the lines of tension in Matt’s face ease, and he seems to tune in to the beat of Foggy’s heart. The spiky thing in the middle of Foggy’s chest warms and pulses and softens, and Foggy finally lets himself name it - it is love. Foggy’s love for Matt. And Matt Murdock might be clever with words and stupid with emotions, but no one feels the world the way Matt does.

Foggy leans forward and kisses Matt’s forehead again, gentle and warm, then presses his forehead to Matt’s.

“I’m tired, Foggy.”

Foggy murmurs in agreement. “I know. So am I. And I miss you.”

Matt reaches with his other hand to cup Foggy’s shoulder, a finger playing over the scar under the sleeve of Foggy’s sweater.

Foggy kisses Matt’s forehead again, then pulls back slightly. “You haven’t touched that scar before, have you?” Foggy asks. Matt pulls his hand away, like he’s just realised what he’s doing, and shakes his head, frowning. “It’s okay.” Foggy has to release Matt’s other hand, but he shrugs his left arm out of its sleeve and pulls the bottom edge of his sweater up so that his entire arm and half his torso are bare. “Feel away.”

Cautiously, Matt reaches out with his right hand and touches one fingertip with unerring accuracy, exactly where the bullet left its mark. Foggy watches as fleeting emotions chase each other across Matt’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital,” Matt says. He presses his palm flat over the scar for a moment, lifting his hand away only to press a kiss of his own to Foggy’s skin, to his scar. Foggy shivers.

Matt’s hand moves again, sensitive fingertips trailing from Foggy’s arm across to his chest and grazing a nipple. He pauses, all five fingertips there with the lightest of touches over Foggy’s heart, before his hand spreads out. Foggy feels the contact like it’s a brand.

Foggy lifts his right hand. He has to unzip Matt’s hoody, but then he’s pressing his own hand over Matt’s heart, and confusion, joy and hope are chasing each other across Matt’s face.

Matt leans forward and kisses Foggy on the lips. It’s sweet and gentle, but when Matt presses in more firmly Foggy moves back.

Matt doesn’t look like he’s about to jump out the window, but he does look uncertain. “You don’t want...?” Matt asks.

“Oh, I do. You have no idea. But you’re hurt and tired and you have a very soft bed in the next room, and maybe we’ve done enough talking for now.”

“Want to spoon?” Matt asks, and the hope on his face nearly breaks Foggy’s heart.

“Yes I do, my spoony little friend. And we can talk later.”

Matt smiles, and it’s like seeing the sun burst over rain-drenched lands that had almost forgotten a sun existed. “Later.” And Foggy takes Matt’s hand in his, helps him carefully to his feet, and leads him to bed.

#daredevilexchange #matt murdock #Foggy nelson #pogowrites

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deiitaelric · 4 years ago

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Soulmates bakudeku / kirikami au part 10

Part 9

“What’s your problem?” Denki inquired, frowning.

“Listen. I don’t know what’s going on but Kirishima was looking at you the same way you look at him. It’s just… He seemed….” Katsuki falter and Denki interrupted him, yelling.

“WHAT?”

“Shut up! I don’t know, I’m confused, but I don’t think you should just make out with the first guy you see. At least not in front of him”

“I’m hurt and I need comfort. And what the fuck? Why are you doing this? You know how I feel, and you come to me with this?! He’s Midoriya’s soulmate. I saw the stain!”

“I know Kami, but we don’t know what’s going on, just…”

“No, shut up! Fuck off!” Denki pushed him and left. Katsuki sighed, sitting again on the stairs.

“He’s drunk, huh?” Kirishima said beside him.

“No, he’s not. He’s just…” But Katsuki didn’t finish the response.

“Are you mad at him?” Katsuki didn’t answered. “Hey, don’t worry. I think he was being silly. I don’t think he‘d do anything with that guy or anything”

“Like I care. It’s his fucking problem. I advised him, if he doesn’t want to listen and do whatever, that’s his funeral!”

Kirishima frowned, thinking. Katsuki wasn’t mad with Denki after the latter flirted with another guy right in front of him? Well, maybe his relationship was that way. Or yeah, they could be not dating at all. But one thing was clear…

Me: “They’re not soulmates” The redhead texted to Izuku.

Mido: “What?”

Me: “What you read. Some random dude asked Denki and he said he doesn’t have a stain”

Mido: “I’m happy for you”

Mido: “Flirt a little”

Me: “He went away”

Me: “Come back”

Mido: “Fine”

Kirishima sighed and Katsuki looked at him out of the corner of the eye. “You good?”

“I’m fine”

“Good” Katsuki brushed his eye one moment and suddenly stopped dead. “Fuck,” he hissed as he looked at the back of his fingers, two of which were streaked with eyeliner. “Fuck!” The blonde dug one hand thought his pockets for his phone and tried to use the screen as a mirror, but he couldn’t see shit.

“Let me see” Kirishima said, leaning towards him. Katsuki turned to face him.

“Did I make a mess?”

“A little. But I can fix it” Kirishima searched for a tissue inside his pockets and focused on the blonde again. “Oh. May I? You could look for a bathroom and do it yourself. Or I can go find Kaminari”

“I don’t care. If you can fix it, just do it”

“Uh. Okay” Kirishima started to wipe up the smudged eyeliner with care as to not smear the good part. He was trying to not touch Katsuki, but eventually he raised the other hand and hesitated a little.

“God, what are you afraid of,” the blonde asked, grasping Kirishima’s hand.

“Nothing, it’s just… you don’t let anybody touch you” Kirishima tilted Katsuki's face with a steady hand, eyeing his handiwork.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore”

“Why?” Katsuki moved his eyes to find the source of the voice, though he already knew whose voice it was. Izuku stood a couple feet from the steps, looking at them, with the hoodie folded over his arms. Katsuki didn’t answer.

“Hm. Well. I think it’s okay now” Kirishima pronounced, mostly to fill the uncomfortable silence. He released Katsuki and looked at both eyes from further away. “Yeah, looks good”

“Thanks”

“It’s nothing. Maybe you should go find Kaminari?”

“Fuck him. It’s him who’s mad at me” Katsuki blurted, pushing himself to his feet and walking a little ways away. Izuku approached the redhead.

“What happened?” Izuku tried to focus on his roommate, and not the brooding blonde’s back.

“I don’t know. Denki got upset about something Bakugou said and left”

Izuku stayed quiet a moment, though when he spoke next he couldn’t quite hold back the bitterness that tingled his voice. “You touched him”

“Yeah, I… I tried not to, but…”

“How is it? No, I don’t… nevermind” Izuku shook his head.

“You know, he seems okay with touching now. Maybe you should try, just so you can stop thinking about it”

“If he feels like I think he does, I’ll never be able to stop thinking about it. I think it hurts enough already, thanks”

“You can’t stop thinking about it either way” Kirishima sighed. Izuku looked at him sarcastically, but the despair he was suppressing fought its way onto his face. The redhead patted Izuku’s shoulder. “Go. Try. I think I’ll go track down Denki”

Kirishima had just gotten to his feet when he spotted the second blonde approaching. He trotted towards him as Izuku shuffled anxiously towards Katsuki.

“Hey, you okay?” The redhead asked, stopping about two feet in front of Denki.

“I’m fine, just…” Denki looked up at Kirishima. The boys had stopped in a shaft of light from a floodlight by the pool, and Denki found himself studying the redhead’s face. Those beautiful red eyes with that little scar he had to overcome the urge to not touch almost every time he see it. His kind little smile filled with those pointy teeth he wanted so badly to be bitten by. And his spiky hair, which… “Your hair… it looks redder?”

“Oh, yeah, I have dyed it again last week, the color was fading. Are you sure you’re fine? You seemed pretty upset earlier”

“He was just trying to help me, but I can’t be helped” Denki reached a hand and pulled his fingers through Kirishima’s spikes to remake some of them. “You look cool” He let his hand dropped and smiled shyly. “Sorry” The blonde hugged himself, rubbing his arms.

“Don’t worry” Kirishima smiled. “Are you cold?” Denki nodded. “Do you want the hoodie?” Before the blonde could answer, Kirishima was already unzipping it.

“No, no, keep it, I have my own somewhere else. So, did you dye it yourself?” Denki continued rubbing his biceps, feeling goosebumps under his fingers.

“Yeah. Midoriya helped me this time, but he’s such a disaster. He spilled with dye on both of us. Hey, just take it” Kirishima slid the jacket off his shoulders and was sliding it down his arms when Kaminari grabbed the fabric and pulled it back over his shoulders.

“Keep it” the blonde insisted. He then stopped dead as Kirishima’s words finally processed. Wait. Was the red mark on Izuku’s leg hair dye?

“I’ll go grab yours, then”

“Wait!” Kaminari snagged Kirishima’s sleeve, making him stop. “Did you say…?”

“What?”

“Was he wearing shorts?”

“That’s… yeah? He ended up with red blotches on both legs. He’s still blaming me”

Denki smiled wide. Kirishima smiled back; he didn’t know what Kaminari was smiling for, but he couldn’t help it.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just… Midoriya said it was totally your fault because you couldn’t stop squirming”

“How dare he? Has he spoken badly about me to you?”

“No, no, don’t worry!” And Denki laughed. Kirishima’s eyes brightened. Denki shivered at the cold and brushed his arms once again.

“Hey, I uh… I noticed that you’re hugging a lot of people tonight,” Kirishima started, examining his shoes intently, “and you don't want the hoodie and don't want me to go grab yours…” He grabbed the sides of the hoodie, opened it, inviting Denki to hug him under it. “You wanna share?”

Denki smiled shyly, cheeks slightly pink, and took a step forward. Denki felt like melting, feeling the warmth of Kirishima’s body, wrapping his arms around his torso and laying his head over the redhead’s shoulder.

---

Izuku sat beside Katsuki, who was standing to the side, scowling at nothing. They stayed silent for several minutes.

“Why did you ask why?” The blonde asked without looking at him.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. Why did you ask why?”

“When you said it doesn’t matter anymore?” Katsuki didn’t answer, so Izuku assumed he was correct. “Are you serious? We have known each other since forever and you did care all this time. Why don’t you care anymore?”

“I just don’t wanna talk about it”

Izuku sighed but got up and approached the blonde. “And you’re okay with this with everyone or only with a few?”

Katsuki looked at him, founding piercing green eyes. Izuku took another step at him. And then they heard Kaminari yelling.

---

“What’s my number today?”

“Hm?” Denki muttered against Kirishima’s shoulder.

“In your hugging records”

“Oh, you’re the eleventh, but two of them were Midoriya and Bakugou, so…”

“Hmm. By the way, are you… and Bakugou having… something?”

“What? No!” Denki stepped back and their arms brushed each other inside the hoodie. They felt something weird and both flinched back. Denki saw how a red, little, pretty stain bloom on his forearm, near the elbow, and he covered it with a hand. “WHAT!?”

Izuku and Katsuki turned to look at him.

Denki looked up at Kirishima, whose eyes were wide and fixed on him. The redhead took off the hoodie and looked at the inside of his arm, close to the inside part of the elbow. A little electric yellow stain was there. He touched it, rubbing it in disbelieve. “Denki?”

“Are we soulmates?!”

“Are we?”

“We are!” Denki threw himself at Kirishima, who picked him up in an enthusiastic hug.

“What the actual fuck?” Katsuki blurted beside Izuku.

“They’re soulmates! Oh my, that’s great”

Katsuki took a step away when he saw how Izuku was reaching a hand to touch him. And Izuku stopped dead; he didn’t mean to do that. Suddenly Katsuki took the hoodie of Izuku’s hands and put it on, taking another step away.

“Hey, what happens?” Izuku inquired.

“I don’t know what the fuck is happening. I thought he was your soulmate”

“What? Who? Kirishima?” He took a step forward and Katsuki took one back. “Wha- why did you think that?”

“You had a stain”

“What?” Izuku shook his head, confused. Katsuki lowered his view toward Izuku’s knees and Izuku looked down at himself. “Oh, that? That was hair dye. I was helping Kirishima and... Wait. Did you think…?”

Katsuki just turned and started walking away, lips in a tight line. What the fuck? Hair dye? So Izuku hadn't found shit.

Izuku grabbed his clothes to make him stop. “Kacchan, what’s happening?!”

“Don’t touch me!” Katsuki freed himself and left, leaving Izuku behind. Katsuki didn’t know if he was feeling relief or more scared than ever. They had been so close they could have been touched by accident. Izuku was actually so close to touching him on purpose. It could’ve been the end.

Izuku kept looking at his friend walking away. He felt awful and jealous. What’s with him? Was he angry with Kaminari? Were they dating after all? But they didn’t have stains, so… Had Kacchan been fine with touching people only because he had thought he, Izuku, had already found his soulmate? So the problem was still Izuku. The boy clenched his hands in fist and headed to the exit.

“Kats, where are you? Are you with Midoriya?” Denki was on the phone, as well as Kirishima. Both Katsuki and Izuku had disappeared and they were trying to locate them.

“It was hair dye…”

“Yeah, I know! Are you not relieved?”

“I… I don’t know… I feel…” Katsuki’s eyes watered, and even if he tried not to, he sobbed.

Denki sounded worried at the other end of the line. “Hey, where are you? I’ll go to you and we can go home, okay?”

“No, just… Stay with Kirishima. I’m happy for you, enjoy the night”

“No, bro, no way. Tell me where you are”

“Really, you don’t have to-”

“Katsuki. Where. Are. You”

Katsuki told him and five minutes later Denki was there, comforting him without making questions.

Part 11

#bakudeku #bkdk #kirikami #krkm #bakudeku fic #kirikami fic #angst #soulmates #au

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word-scribbless · 5 years ago

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Rossi’s Niece Part 2

I’m kind of in love with writing this story and don’t think this will be the last part.

Masterlist

Part 1

x female reader

______________

The team had wrapped the local case that week, then caught a new one in Missouri barely 24 hours later. Meaning Spencer and Y/N had yet to have their first date. There was no shortage of texting and even a few calls between the two, however Spencer couldn’t help but fear he would lose her before he even had her.

Those fears were severely lessened as his phone buzzed on the jet ride home from the Missouri. He smiled as he saw Y/N’s Name light up the screen

Y/N Rossi: Hey there stranger, I hear you’re on your way home :).

Spencer immediately smiled widely. catching himself as to not tip off his team mates as he typed a response

Spencer <3: Are you keeping tabs on me ms Rossi?

Y/N Rossi: I might be! Y/N Rossi: You do owe me a date you know... I have to keep track of my debts. Can’t let you off the hook too easily.

The text caused him to smirk. The first smile may have been ignored by his team but at this point Derek wasn’t taking his eyes off of him and Rossi had a knowing smile on his face as he read his files. He types out an answer quickly.

Spencer <3: Good! I don’t wanna be let off the hook! How about tonight at 7?

Y/N Rossi: I’d love that, but aren’t you tired? You are just getting home!

Spencer <3: We solved the case yesterday afternoon, but the jet wasn’t ready until today. I got a full nights sleep before we boarded! Spencer<3: Plus I don’t like to leave my debts unpaid for too long ;)

Y/N Rossi: Perfect! Tonight it is then, I can’t wait! Safe travels. I’ll see you at 7.

Spencer<3: I cant wait either Y/N.

“Alright pretty boy who’s the girl?” Morgan asked, bursting Spencer’s happy bubble. “What?” He replied “Don’t act dumb 187” Morgan quipped. “I’m not! Just, how do you know it’s a girl?” He asked “Well I know for a fact you’re into girls... and you don’t smile that way unless your smitten so she’s got to be a fine piece-“ “WATCH YOURSELF” Rossi interrupted causing Morgan to look at him confused, and Aaron to join the conversation.

“Rossi what- OH MY GOD! It’s Y/N!” Morgan yelled. “Seriously a man can have no secrets!” He shrieked “Not around here!” Aaron joked. “Why do you wanna keep my niece a secret Reid?” Rossi jabbed, clearly kidding yet still causing Spencer to stutter.

“I- I don’t but we don’t need Morgan asking a million questions when we haven’t even gone on a real date yet. I don’t need this messed up before it starts!” He said looking down shyly.

“Ooooo HES got it bad!” Morgan laughed bumping Rossi’s shoulder. “He’s not alone, if I have to spend another dinner hearing about how ‘handsomely adorable’ he is I might cut my own ears off.” Rossi laughed

“She said that?” Spencer blushed. “Yeah. trust me kid, she won’t let this shmuck scare her away” he pointed to Morgan. “She’s just as smitten with you.” “The way she was looking at you that day at the school, I can tell you your feelings aren’t one sided.” Hotch added

This caused Reid to smile as he responded. “I still think she deserves to be treated with more respect than bragging about how beautiful she is to someone she barely knows, and her uncle and fake uncle for that matter.” “While I agree she deserves respect, calling her beautiful doesn’t bother me and I’m sure wouldn’t offend her, just don’t talk like this pig.” “I second that” Said Hotch. “Hey! I didn’t know she was a Rossi!” Derek feigned being offended.

“I get the whole being respectful thing, but come on kid give us something!” Derek joked.

“I really like her, we have a date tonight. That’s all I’m giving you!” Spencer conceded. “Way to go pretty boy!” Derek joked “Remember, daisies!” Rossi said looking back down. “I’m against gossiping but not against help! Any suggestions for dinner?” Spencer admitted. Rossi and Hotch’s eye brows peaked up in excitement. “So you’ll use our knowledge but not talk to us?” He joked “Hey I’m just trying to make this date as nice as possible. She deserves it.” Spencer smiled. “I can’t argue there” Rossi agreed as he begins to list things he knows y/n loves.

As the team headed back to the BAU from the jet Spencer finalized his plans. He underestimated how lucky he was to have Rossi’s knowledge of y/n to help him plan his and y/n’s date. He had learned that she loved Italian food (obviously) but usually only if it was homemade. There was one place in the city however that she loved. She didn’t believe in perfect Rossi told him, ‘so don’t plan perfect just plan for fun and make her laugh and she’ll be happy.’ Hotch also added that if he took her for ice cream she’d forgive just about anything!

Spencer headed home to get changed so get changed and pick y/n up. He called the restaurant ahead of time and put his name in. He put on nice pants, a button down and his favorite cardigan and headed out the door. It had been a nice day so he thought they could walk to the restaurant, it wasn’t too far from her apartment building. Plus walking is romantic right? He thought to himself.

While Spencer was overthinking his plans, Y/N was overthinking just about everything, she had changed about 5 times before her phone rang and showed her Uncle’s name.

“Hey Zio , what’s up.” She asked “Oh no! I can hear the stress patch through the phone!” Rossi said, referring to the bright red blotch that formed on her forehead when she was stressed. “Great, now I have that to worry about too!” She growled. “Tesoro, you could open your door in pjs and horror movie make up and that boy would still fall at your feet!” He chuckled. “But uncle Dave!” She started “Y/N Spencer can’t hear your name with out blushing! Anything you wear, or say, or do, he’s still going to be crazy about you.”He said, causing the tenseness in Y/N’s chest to dissipate. “Thank you Zio, that was actually really helpful! “He quizzed me and Aaron on Y/N trivia the whole plane ride home to make your date ‘perfect’.” He admired. “Really?” Y/n said blushing. “What did you say?” “First of all to drop the word perfect!” He joked. “That’s all he needed to know.” She laughed. “I gave him a few pointers, he looked like he was in a panic himself.” He said as he heard a knock on her door through the phone. “Alright Tesoro, have a great night! And I know I don’t have to tell you this but, be careful with his heart.” He said before hanging up. She could tell there was a story there, but she was guessing it was one she’d have to learn from Spencer him self in time.

She took one more deep breath and went to open the door. On the other side was Spencer, looking handsome as ever and holding a bouquet of daisies for her. ‘Maybe him being close to my uncles does have its perks’ she thought. “Hi.” He said shyly but smiling. “Hey there, come on in I’ll get my sweater!” She said “Great, these are for you!” He said handing her the flowers. “I may have gotten a few tips from your uncle, but I didn’t want to cheat too much so I also got you these.” He said holding out a box of chocolates from the cafe she loved down the block from.

“Oh man you have been talking to my uncle!” She gasped taking the flowers and box. “I have, but the chocolates were all me! No hints!” He smiled “Really? Well good guess! These are my favorites!” She kissed his cheek and told him she was ready. He double checked if she was okay with walking, she was, so off they went.

For a date that started out, dare I say, perfect it took a turn pretty fast. The conversation and company were perfect but the circumstances, not so much. Walking to the restaurant, Y/N tripped over the sidewalk, she caught herself, with Spencer’s help. However she twisted her ankle a bit. She swore she was fine, so used to being a clutz that she could power through. Once they got to the restaurant, they were told that they lost their reservations.

Y/N could sense that Spencer was feeling awful and assuming that the date was ruined. She put her hand on his arm and assured him everything was okay before telling him that they did take out and her favorite way to eat was a picnic. He smiled widely and placed their take out order. They sat in the waiting area and got to know each other a bit before taking their meals to a near by park y/n suggested.

As they sat down at a picnic table Spencer took Y/N’s hand. “Hey, I’m really sorry-“ he started “I’m not!” she stopped him. “-but this was supposed to be special and it got all messed up.” Spencer said. “Not the way I see it” she corrected him. “Spencer, I know you know that I don’t like perfect, I like fun.” She continued and he nodded. “Well so far, I’m having a lot of fun! I really like spending time with you, I don’t care where. Plus this is my favorite food in my favorite park with someone who I could easily see becoming one of my favorite people. So overall, I’d say this is pretty close to perfect.” She smiled.

Spencer loved the feeling he got from hearing her say those things about him. He was beginning to see that she was right, the date was amazing, even if it wasn’t perfect. They ate their meals and talked about their lives and families, jobs and dreams. Overall it was a wonderful date. After they finished eating Spencer stood up and took her hand in his, asking if she wanted to go for a walk with him. She smiled and nodded.

Half way through their walk it started pouring rain. Usually this would make Spencer panic again about ruining the date but before he could even think about it he heard Y/N’s laugh. He had to admit it was his new favorite sound. He looked over at her to see her giant beautiful smile and he couldn’t help but laugh as well. Not just any laugh, one of those laughs that’s starts and doesn’t seem like it will ever stop.

“You know what your supposed to do when it rains on a date?” Y/N asked between laughs. Spencer smiled and took her by surprise by saying “You dance in it?” while holding out his hand to her. She took it and he spun her into him “exactly” she smiled up at him.

They danced around the park in the pouring rain until they were both soaking wet. “I should get you home! I’d really love to take you on another date and I don’t want to have to wait because one of us catches a cold.” Spencer said causing Y/N to smile.

“I love dancing in the rain with you, walking in it should be fun too.” She smiled and linked her arm through him.

When they got to Y/N’s apartment building they stood just under the overhang out of the rain. “Well tonight surely didn’t go as planned, but I had a lot of fun with you Y/N.” Spencer said as he took her hand in his. “Me too Spence, and about that second date you mentioned earlier? I’d love to.” She smiled. “Saturday?” He asked hopefully and she nodded. “Perfect, good night Y/N.” Spencer said, kissing her cheek and then started to pull away. “Spence” Y/N Said as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him back into a kiss. At first he was shocked but that didn’t last long. He kissed her back with in seconds. They both pulled away smiling. “Sorry” She said sweetly. “I really didn’t want you to leave with out doing that.” They laughed. “I didn’t either.” He admitted. He kissed her again and then went on his way. He ended up walking to a café down the street and calling a cab. He enjoyed walking in the rain with her, but doing it alone wasn’t as fun.

The next day at work Rossi and Aaron walked up to Spencer’s desk with Morgan in toe. “So, how was the date? Y/N didn’t say much except that she’s happy and there’s a second one.” He said “And while that’s all I need to know I want more info!” “Well it definitely wasn’t perfect!” Spencer said with a gigantic smile. “That’s what I like to hear” Rossi said slapping him on the back. “I’m confused.” Morgan said causing the other men to laugh harder.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid series #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n

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sunsetcurveofficial · 4 years ago

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luke/reggie prompt fill to be found here.

just like the other one, this kind of developed a life of its own. keeping it short really isn’t my strength, apparently. anyway! let’s go.

10. “What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!” - Merthur

also available on ao3

_______

Merlin is not having a great day. Well, to be fair, it only just started, but he can’t find any of his usual clothes, so it’s already going pretty badly.

Arthur forced him to move into his own chambers in the castle, right next to his own and Gwen’s, and while Merlin complained about it being too pompous, he does enjoy the comforts of his shiny, new bed, of course, with actual mattresses that provide him with a nightly comfort he never experienced before in his life. So, naturally, he sleeps really well now. And the fact that he doesn’t have to get up at ungodly hours in the morning to tend to Arthur’s every need anymore helps, too, of course.

Merlin is not used to having people clean up after him, though, and to have people rummaging through his stuff and reorganising them when he’s not there. He sends servants away quite frequently, getting annoyed when his things suddenly aren’t where he put them anymore. He doesn’t know how Arthur can stand this, but he supposes that the king simply never knew anything else. He never had to clean after himself, after all.

So, anyway. Merlin can’t find his clothes. His breeches are all gone, his favourite red and blue tunics are gone, and his lucky neckerchiefs are nowhere to be found. Instead, there are expensive looking robes, tunics made from fine linen, velvet neckerchiefs and leather breeches, all in shades of dark blue and purple. Merlin hates them. They’re beautiful, but Merlin hates them anyway. He isn’t some posh prat, and he doesn’t want to look like one. It’s bad enough Arthur insisted on making him a lord, telling him that he couldn’t be court sorcerer without a title. Does he actually need to look like one as well?

Grunting, Merlin pulls out a dark blue tunic, black leather breeches, and a dark blue velvet neckerchief. He gets dressed in a few quick movements, before storming out of his chambers and a few metres down the corridor to Arthur’s, bursting in without bothering to knock. Arthur is in the middle of eating his breakfast, dropping a sausage when Merlin’s abrupt entrance startles him.

“What the fuck did you do to all of my clothes?!” Merlin snaps, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Arthur smirks, his eyes wandering over Merlin’s expensively dressed body. Merlin hates the blush that rises to his cheeks, and he crosses his arms a little tighter, glaring at the king.

“Those rags? I’ve had them cleaned out. They’re hardly an appropriate dress for Camelot’s official court sorcerer. What will visiting nobles think? That I have a servant pivoting around the council?”

Merlin huffs.

“Those were my clothes! I paid for them myself. You had no right! My lucky neckerchief is gone!”

Arthur snorts, turning back to his breakfast.

“Actually, since I’ve been paying you all these years, I’m pretty sure I paid for them. Just as I am now. Also, that red rag isn’t gone. I told the servants to keep that, but to give it a good wash. I’m sure it’ll be back with you shortly. Don’t you dare wear it to council meetings, though.”

Merlin glares a little harder, pouting, but he’s secretly happy that Arthur thought of keeping his lucky neckerchief, even though he clearly hates it.

“Well, okay… thank you, I guess. Still doesn’t change the fact that you had all my clothes thrown out without asking me first!”

Arthur takes a bite from his piece of bread.

“I didn’t have them thrown out, I had them donated to people in the lower town. They might be peasant clothes, but they’re perfectly fine clothes. I’m not a wasteful king. No need to just throw them in the bin,” he explains. Merlin knows he’s slowly running out of arguments, so he huffs and shakes his head.

“People already think I’m your favourite or something, that you take me to bed when you feel like it. This will only fire up the rumours,” he argues.

Arthur stops chewing, drops his bread and starts coughing rather violently as he chokes on his bite. Merlin rolls his eyes and waves his hand in his direction, using his magic to prevent Arthur from dying again. Choking on bread really was no way to go for a king.

“They think what?” Arthur wheezes when he’s no longer coughing, his eyes watery as he stares at Merlin, eyes wide.

“They think you’re bedding me, occasionally. That I’m your side-piece. That you like getting into my breeches,” Merlin repeats slowly, smirking when he spots the red blotches on Arthur’s cheeks.

Arthur clears his throat and averts his eyes. Several moments pass in silence, and Merlin knows Arthur in and out but he can’t tell what is going through the king’s head, and he finds that a little unsettling. And then Arthur suddenly gets up from his chair and walks over to Merlin, who is still standing close to the door. Merlin’s eyes widen a little when Arthur doesn’t seem to stop, so he’s forced to walk backwards until his back collides with the door. Arthur looks like he’s out hunting and Merlin is his prey. Oh. He swallows.

“Well,” Arthur growls, “If they already think that…”

“What?” Merlin squeaks. His brain short circuits the next moment, when Arthur suddenly presses his lips against the side of his neck. “What?” he squeaks again. He meant to tease Arthur, to win this little argument about his clothes, he didn’t think the king would— what?

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur says, voice rough. The sound sends a warm, fluttering sensation just beneath Merlin’s ribcage. “Be my favourite. You want this, don’t you?”

Merlin won’t lie. His brain is in overdrive, but he can’t be expected to lie, can he?

“Yes. But—” Merlin starts, but is immediately cut off by Arthur’s lips crashing against his with a grunt. Arthur kisses him roughly and Merlin kisses back, feeling like he could probably take on the entire world, but something feels off. Whenever he imagined this, and he imagined this a lot over the years, it never really went like this. This is rough, and far from gentle, and Merlin doesn’t know why Arthur is doing it in the first place. He wants this, he wants it so much, but not like this.

So he pushes Arthur away, keeping his hands firmly on his chest as he meets his eyes.

“Arthur,” he says, “I do want this. But I need to know— why? You seem kinda angry, and I have no interest being your punching bag just to get it out of your system.”

Arthur’s eyes soften, and his hands come up to Merlin’s face, holding it and stroking his thumbs over Merlin’s cheekbones. His eyes flutter shut and he hums.

“I’m not angry, Merlin. I just spent over 10 years decidedly not doing this. I’m sorry that I got a little carried away,” Arthur says quietly.

Merlin opens his eyes again. Arthur’s were so blue, and so familiar, and filled with something that made Merlin’s magic thrum under his skin.

“This is— it means something to me, Arthur. It can’t just be because you feel like it.”

Arthur smiles.

“Come on, Merlin. Keep up. You know me. Do you really think I would kiss you only because I feel like it? After everything we’ve been through together?”

Merlin shakes his head.

“No. No, I guess you wouldn’t. You are hopelessly romantic, after all.”

Arthur snorts.

“I really have to be if I’m seriously trying to romance you of all people.”

Merlin shrugs, grinning.

“So that’s the real reason why you replaced my entire wardrobe.”

Leaning in closer and letting his eyes wander from Merlin’s lips up to his eyes, Arthur returns his grin, voice barely more than a whisper when he says, “Well, it’s so much more fun to unwrap gifts that come in a nice packaging.”

And then Arthur kisses him again, much more gentle and longing this time, and Merlin thinks his heart is either about to give out or to jump out of his chest. His magic wraps itself around them both, and he swears they’re floating a few inches above the ground. He kisses Arthur back with all that he has, and he can barely believe that his lips are actually moving against Arthur Pendragon’s right now, and that it’s so much better than any kisses he ever imagined.

So, of course he has to try and ruin it.

“Why now?” he mumbles into the kiss. Arthur pulls back and sighs.

“Because I had a talk with Gwen. Got her go on this. Alright? Now. Less talking and more kissing, Merlin.”

Merlin hums, unable to shake the ridiculous smile he knows is dancing around his lips.

“Yes, Sire,” he says, and reconnects their lips.

Well, okay. Maybe Merlin was a little too fast in judging the book that is his day by its cover. As he’s standing there kissing the man his soul feels connected to, he thinks it might just be the greatest fucking day of his life.

#merlin #merthur #merthur fic #merlin fic #merlincreatorsnetwork #merlin fanfic #my fic #my writing #prompts

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captainjimothycarter · 4 years ago

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Steggy + sweater weather

This is not what you wanted OP and I am so so sorry. I don’t know where this came from. This is for @womenarethesequel. They didn’t ask for it, I just saw they wanted Hurt/Comfort and wellllll....

Cue Steve going back to shortly after his death instead of 1949.

Peggy’s bottom lip trembled as she picked up the folded sweater from where it laid in the contents of her suitcase. Everything in her life, in Steve’s life, had been combined to one small suitcase with its frayed corners, broken handles, and busted wheels.

Everything she had left to remember Steve by laid in this suitcase. Things the public would never come to see, things that not even behind closed doors of the SSR will know, and perhaps even the Howling Commandos.

Though, the last one was a huge might.

The only other person who could know, now laid dead too. Having died just weeks ago before Steve’s frozen grave.

This was her first time in Brooklyn, a place she will be forced to call her home, a place she’d never get to know through Steve’s eyes, but through what memories she’s had of him. This is a place that she will make her own because she has to because the world has left her no choice.

If the world has a lesson it wants to teach her, then it’s doing so. She’s been stripped from all those that she holds dear to her heart. From Michael, her brother, having died shortly after her engagement party. Where he was not supposed to be at all, where he broke protocol just to surprise his little sister, and give her the unwanted advice she didn’t know she needed.

Where their last words had been hateful spite between them in a yelling argument that caused him to storm out of the house and never to be seen again. His letter will arrive a week later with his apology and reluctant dedication to her new to-be husband.

A day before the men in suits will arrive, where she will leave behind her wedding dress, and a mother left waiting.

The world has told her she is to hold no lovers, no person close to her heart. They have stripped her of a friend she didn’t know she needed. Of James Barnes, someone who’d never replaced Michael but could be close to her in that sense.

Someone who made her smile despite the world was crashing around them. Reminded her that she too was human and invaded her personal space when she didn’t want a soul near her.

His death had broke that facade in her and the only other person who’d seen past the cracks…

His sweater, the cream-colored, handknitted, aged, and soft sweater, that still lingered with just a hint of his musky, spicy scent laid in her hands.

The tears burned Peggy’s eyes as she held the sweater to her face and crushed it against her chest, taking in a deep breath of dust and the scent of Steve to calm herself down.

It will do no good to cry. She’s cried far too much recently, in private of her own quarters, when no one was looking at her. No one except Howard and the few times Phillips had seen her.

She never quite found the words to thank the man when he handed her an unmarked file in their cleanup of the office. Tucked into the contents of the file was something that shouldn’t be there. Steve’s photo.

Colonel Phillip’s way of telling her that he’s sorry for her loss and while he can’t outright say it, he understands loss as much as anyone.

He’s had a family at one point, she’s learned through his drunken tales. A wife, two sons, a little girl. She doesn’t need to ask what happened to them, Peggy can read it in the lines of his face, the way his eyes will watch a little, blonde girl skip across the street with her mother, the way he plays with the wedding band that he’s never without.

He knows loss as much as either of them, if not more.

In a way, she’s almost jealous. At least he had time, Steve and her? They’d only just begun.

And it’s selfish that thought, she knows it is. It’s a bitter brew of hatred and guilt that’s always bubbling just under the surface. That’s not her. That’s not who she should be. That’s not who Steve would want her to be.

What would he know? He’s dead.

They’d spent weeks on the Arctic before she was forced to come back to Brooklyn, Howard setting her up in a small flat under his name, promising someone named Jarvis will drop food off every day, while he’s gone until she’s back on her feet.

She almost didn’t take it, but Peggy realized she had no choice. She has no home to her name. Her mother had died at the start of the war, shortly after Michael’s death.

And it’s here, on this brand new bed that Howard had purchased for her, that she realizes she’s alone.

Utterly and truly alone.

The sob drags something deep, ugly, and dark inside of her. She doesn’t even feel it escape her lips. She feels it tug on her heart. She feels it shake her chest, the hot tear roll down her face. She cries into Steve’s sweater until she’s out of breath, face blotched red, and tears burning her eyes.

She cries until she can do no more but drag breath after breath, feeling her throat raw and aching, eyes raw from constantly wiping them.

She does the only sensible thing she can do and that’s to pull on Steve’s sweater, stuff the empty suitcase under the bed, and crawl under the covers.

She falls asleep to his scent, to the idea that he’s right there behind her, holding her close, the sound of October’s harsh weather, beating wind and rain against the window.

The days drag on by in a pattern that Peggy doesn’t even notice she’s fallen into. Every morning she wakes up, breakfast is under a tin covering outside her door. Some days its eggs and toast, other days its sausage and pancakes, or a variant of the few meals. She doesn’t eat much, more picks at it, until her appetite still comes back.

She goes to work at the SSR office, keeping her head down, ignoring the jabs, and jars of the fact she worked with Captain America. It’s a temporary office, this one in New Jersey until the one in Brooklyn opens up within the following week.

She’s looking forward to that week, a week of not having to go to work and face the public that’s still mourning Captain America’s loss. They’d never know. They’d never know the true pain that lays inside of her when she hears his name.

She goes to bed every night, wearing his sweater. It’s losing his scent and the terrifying thought fills Peggy of what will she do when it’s gone? There’s no way to get it back.

Half a week into her preparing to move to Brooklyn’s SSR office, Peggy finds herself awake in the middle of the night, after nodding off for a few hours on the couch.

The bed comes to be a place she can’t call home. Too large, too empty, too cold. The couch is comfortable because she can cocoon under a thick blanket, with the dying fire in the fireplace for light.

She’s confused as to what wakes her up, listening to the rain pounding on the window. It’s rained every night this week as if the world is telling her something.

That’s when she hears it, the sound of thunder when there is no lightning. It takes her frazzled brain a second too long to come to the realization that it’s not thunder but someone at her door.

Knocking-in three fast sets, followed by two, then four.

Her heart lurches to her throat.

That was...there was no way, no possible way. He was dead. He was dead and gone and Howard had even returned empty-handed. So how…?

Could her mind be playing tricks on her? Just exhaustion. Had to be a state of exhaustion and even as she thought it, Peggy couldn’t stop herself from touching the doorknob. The person on the other side, that thing is silent. She pressed her ear to the cool frame and nearly falls backward when the knocking starts again.

That’s when she hears it.

“Peggy.”

This has to be a nightmare caused by her exhaustion. It has to be. Yet it sounds so real. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try.

Pulling the gun from the coffee table, Peggy slowly opens the door, the gun aimed at the figure in the doorway. It’s not until lightning streaks the sky that Peggy drops the gun with an audible gasp.

It’s him. It’s Steve.

It’s not her Steve, but it is him.

Her hand shakenly turns on the lamp to give him some light, taking one, two, three steps back until she almost falls over the ottoman and if it wasn’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, she would’ve had a hard ending. He catches her by her waist and uprights her and just as fast as he’s touched her, he lets go and stands with space between them.

Despite she holds no gun, his hands are up and the door behind them has shut. He’s soaked to the bone, she notes. His blonde hair flops in his face, his shirt is soaked through, to the point she can count his abs through his collard shirt. He looks stiff and nervous, the flowers in his hand are the ugliest, water drowned things she’s ever seen.

And yet, they couldn’t be more beautiful.

“I don’t...I don’t understand,” she breathed, lowering her hand from her mouth and trying to steal her emotions. “How-how are you…? Howard said you...he couldn’t…”

“He didn’t,” Steve said calmly and softly like he’s practiced this speech a hundred times over. He sets the flowers down as if it’s a weapon that lays between them and picks up her gun. He hands it back to her and that move alone, if Peggy has had any doubts on if this Steve is her Steve, it shows her that he’s hers.

“It’s a-a long story, Peggy. Can I come in? I promise I will answer every question you have but-but you have to let me finish talking, okay?”

He’s certainly nervous, he’s stammering but there’s a sense about him, he’s more confident now. She can barely nod before he’s coming closer to her and instinct wise she backs up two steps.

Steve looks hurt, but keeps his distance, giving a timid smile. “I’ll put the kettle on, you sit, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” His face pinches at the expression and Peggy laughs, it’s taunt and tight, but it’s a laugh. “Wrong words, I know. Guess I always put my foot in my mouth around you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Steve’s in an old army issued shirt, his hair now dryer, with a mug of tea in his hands. Hers sits just in front of her, untouched despite Steve followed her rules to a T in making the perfect cuppa.

It’s unnerving how he’s sitting here on the couch, right beside her, and not touching her. That’s not the unnerving part. The unnerving part is that he’s here. Like he fits in this space, like he’s always fitted in here and belonged, and has been here the entire time.

Now that they’re both under better light, Peggy can make Steve out more. There’s graying hair at his temples. His shoulders sag as if he’s carried the weight of the world far one too many times. She can’t explain it but there’s a haunting look in his eyes, one that she’s seen in soldiers and herself, but Steve’s? It’s deeper, harder like he’s had to relive his worst day over and over and over again with no avail.

Knowing Steve? He’s chosen to do so if it would save any other soul from the pain of having to do so.

“Howard didn’t find me,” Steve speaks up, looking down at the dark liquid in his mug, rather than at her. “I was found...roughly sixty-five or so years after I was frozen. The serum - it helped keep me alive, but it stripped me of all my strength. I had to learn how to function again, how to be a human being. It was like when I first got the serum, but slow instead of all at once. I had to learn how to walk, to often breathe at times, to gain muscle control over my own body. Not-not to mention my appetite, you always knew how hungry I was… I could barely stand to smell good, much less look at it. The exhaustion was the worst part, barely able to hold a conversation without...without passing out…”

Peggy wants to speak, she does. He looks at her as if expecting her to interrupt, but she doesn’t. She just gives him a polite smile to let him know she’s listening. Her hand slowly moves to touch him. Just a gentle tap on his shoulder, prove to herself he’s alive.

“I’m real, Peggy. I know it doesn’t seem like that, but I’m real. I don’t think…” He gives a hollow laugh to only a joke he knows the punchline to. “I don’t think anyone hurting this bad would be dead, but if there is a soul…”

Out from the inside of his pocket, Steve pulls out the compass. She recognizes it at once, where he’s etched his initials into the backside. SGR. The thing is faded and rusted, the initials almost faded into the rust. When she opens it with shaky fingers, she sees her picture. It’s faded and barely recognizable, but it’s there.

This is her Steve.

She holds the cold compass close to her chest and looks up at him with wide eyes. It’s Steve’s turn to smile this time.

“You see after they found me, I was able to...join or-or start...hell, I don’t even know anymore...I was with this team called the Avengers…”

And so Steve tells her the tale. This utterly ridiculous tale of how he joined the Avengers, how he leads them into great battle after battle. How they’ve saved the world countless times. How he joined SHIELD and tore it down from the inside out. How Sargeant Barnes is alive and under the product of Hydra. How the team saved the world one last time until they didn’t. Until they lost everyone…

Until Steve lost everyone and bore each and every soul lost as a weight on his shoulders that he was crushing under.

Until he, eventually lost her too…

Until they won it all back. Until time travel was invented until he saw her. Older, fiercer, yet leading Shield as a Director, commanding the men with such fierce abandonment of authority that they had no choice but to do as she says.

Until Steve had realized he still loved her. He’d never stopped. He’d fooled himself into thinking he was content.

Until the end of the world’s battle came and they’d won so much, yet lost so much more.

Until he returned to her, with a promise of a new life on his tongue, and knowing just where he needs to be.

She wants to yell at him. She wants to even slap him for being late. She wants to run away from him and never return. This isn’t real. This has no way of being real and yet, it is.

It’s such an outrageous tale full of enough details peppered here and there that Peggy is forced to believe. Because it’s from Steve.

Because it’s a man whose so hurt and sickly and he can’t even see it himself. The pain he looks at her like her touch could heal a broken man, if even by an inch.

Peggy’s moving before she can help it. The sweater is off, revealing a slip and she slips it on over his body like she’s dressing a toddler. She kneels between his legs and takes his face in her hands. There are more lines than she remembers. He’s certainly older. This isn’t her Steve and yet, this is the Steve that came back to her.

“I’m not him,” Steve whispers as if reading her mind. “I can never be him again, Peggy. I can understand if you do not want me, but I-”

Her kiss shuts him up before he can put his foot in his mouth. He melts against her in a sense of relief that seems to flood them both. Her, for knowing and proving Steve is real and for Steve, proving that she still loves him.

“You are him. I love you, Steven, rather you are the man who’d gone into the ice or-or came back to me. I love you.”

She shouldn’t trust him so easily. She should throw every single question at him from the book and make up a few of her own, run him through the wringer, but Peggy doesn’t need to.

Inside, she knows it’s Steve in the way he looks up at her with tears in his eyes and the way he clings to the hand that’s still on his face.

He’s desperate for human contact in a manner that not even he knows.

“You’re home,” she whispers as their foreheads touch and even now she’s crying. “You came home to me, darling. You came home.”

“I did,” Steve whispers in response, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her face against the soft wool of the sweater. “And I promise I won’t leave again.”

“Good,” Peggy whispers despite the sob as he cradles her against his chest. “Because then I won’t forgive you if you take your sweater from me. It was the only thing - one of the only things I had…”

“I’ll wear them all for you,” Steve whispers, such a ridiculous notion that makes her heart lurch into her throat. Or it could be the fact he’s carrying her to the bedroom. “So you can remember me, if even for a second when we’re separated by just a minute. I’ll never let you be alone nor forget me again.”

Peggy can’t reply as she breathes Steve in. It’s him. The harsh, spicy scent that’s invading her nose, embedding on the sweater. It’s truly Steve and he was finally home.

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #October Prompt #Hurt/Comfort #For womenarethesequel #@womenarethesequel #You said you wanted hurt/comfort #Post Endgame #PTSD Peggy #PTSD Steve #Depressing tbh #Peggy is at her lowest #She's raw and hurting and shouldn't be judged for emotions

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