#jack pretty much determines he's never letting the kid leave his sight again

[21forestglades]

Sick Fic

@macgyvercairo

The next time his eyes open, it’s snowing again.

Mac blinks slowly, grimacing at the pounding behind his eyes. The snow dusted forest seems like it was waiting for him, snowflakes dancing languidly in the air, stolen from their slow descent as they get caught in the breeze. The branches sway above him in greeting. Mac’s stomach churns. It wasn’t as dark before... before...

When did he stop walking?

He shifts in the snow, body stiff. Pulling in a deep breath of air only serves to burn his lungs. The fog around his mind remains, exhaustion surging up like a wave, threatening to take him under once again. Mac swallows. His hands twitch, searching for something in the snow to ground him. Keep him awake.

There's an urgency, in the back of his mind. Something he's forgetting. He just knows he needs to stay awake.

This is the drugs.

When the drugs had first kicked in, that phrase had been Macgyver’s only strong tether to reality. Hours before, in the back of his mind, Mac knew it was the drugs. It was easy to keep track of what was real and what wasn’t. Logic won out over the haziness. After he had escaped the compound, however, the exhaustion added it’s toll. The stretches of time between alertness and blurred reality started to worsen, and the lines distinguishing the two started to disappear under the snow, lost as the drug coursed through his system. Pertinent information bled into hallucinations. The hallucinations bled into memories. It only got worse from there.

Hours ago, Mac knew it was the drugs. The phrase wasn’t just a fleeting thought that he hoped to grasp unto. Hours ago, this information concerned him.

Now, he can barely remember reason for even being out in the snow in the first place.

Come on, brother.

Jack. Mac forces another breath, letting the burn in his chest clear part of his head. He's not sure how long he's been walking. At the least, it's been hours. His feet were past the state of being numb, almost as if they were no longer a part of him. Absent. He lets his eyes drop back to his boots. Still there. That's... that's good. But it’s not the only thing that’s off. His back is numb, a telltale sign of... something. It means the cold has finally soaked through his jacket. That’s... dangerous. He blinks his eyes open, not sure when they shut.

He needs to take it off.

Mac's head spins as he pushes himself to his knees, black spots exploding in his vision. Swallowing back the nausea that has persisted since the drug was first administered, his fingers fumble with the zipper. He lost motor function in his fingers hours ago. It didn’t matter a few minutes ago. He forgot about it, actually. But there's a reason for needing it, now. A reason for, for taking... He can't get it.

He rips off his gloves with his teeth, letting them drop forgotten into the snow. Desperation drives him forward, but even then, his fingers fail to grab hold the zipper. Panic wells, though he's not sure why. He resorts to his teeth once again, biting the zipper between his chattering teeth. The air is like needles to his skin when he finally tears the jacket off, following quickly with the windbreaker beneath it. When it's over, layers of clothing tossed in the snow, Mac can only breathe as the world swims before him. The shivers become worse, a rythym he can't track or control. The world blurs.

“My, my, Macgyver. Look at you. Why, you’re practically half-dead.”

Snow crunches in the snow behind him.

Heart stuttering to a stop, Mac doesn't even have time to turn before arms suddenly wrap around his chest, lifting him up in the air and closing around his throat. Memories slam into him, not of Murdoc but of the compound and the the torture and the drugs.

This is the drugs please be the drugs please be-

As the hold tightens, it almost completely cuts off his air supply. Mac chokes on a cry. Terror builds in his throat, stealing what air is left from his constricted airway as any hope of this being another hallucination is dashed. Someone is yelling. Kicking his his legs out, Mac struggles for purchase in the deep snow. His frozen hands scramble at the arm around his neck. Black seeps into his vision, enveloping the fireworks. Something sharp sinks into his neck, warmth spreading in his veins, and white terror explodes in his chest. A noise of pain escapes between two desperate, sharp gasps for air. His fingers tighten in his shirt. He hunches over as far as he can manage. But he can't escape. He can't and the drugs will kick in again and he can't hecan'thecan'the-

BANG

His assailant jerks violently, and Macgyver barely recognizes the sensation of falling before he hits the ground with a grunt. The world sparks out.

In that moment, the world is underwater. Mac blinks, eyes open but unseeing. The exhaustion is a weight on his chest. He's not able to breathe. The exhaustion is pulling him deeper into the snow. Warning bells become muddled, world darkening from gray to black as he is dragged further underneath the waves. He’s drowning...

Mac drags in a desperate gasp of air as he resurfaces. Every sense fires back to life. His lungs burn, heart racing in his ears, and the white snow is painfully bright, stinging his face and soaking into his cotton shirt. He's in trouble. He kicks out his leg, kicking back the tendrils of exhaustion as he swallows hard. They're tracking him. His torturers. Hunting him. He needs to... they were going to... going to... The drug swallows the rest.

When something, someone, grabs him, lifting up from behind once again, overwhelming dread crashes through him. The world flickers.

“Mac.”

Macgyver's mind kick-starts, his chest tightening. Jack isn't here. He slams his head back again, hitting flesh, but this attacker doesn't budge, only holding tighter and it hurts and please he was already dying and why isn't that enough?

“Hoss.”

This is the drugs. This is the drugs, Mac.

The drugs are spreading through his system like a fire now, slowing everything down in their wake. Finally, he goes limp against who is holding him. The adrenaline drains from him in a torrent.

Escaping the compound was a desperate gamble.

One he apparently lost.

““Come on, brother. Respond to me.”

Mac barely recognizes when he's placed back in the snow, feet away from where his other assailant lies. The cold doesn't burn him, anymore. He's too cold to feel it. Numb. His body's no longer shaking.

It's not... not a good sign.

“Just give me a sign, Mac.”

Jack. The name almost hurts. He didn't deserve this, Mac thinks, not quite sure why they weren't cutting off his air anymore. The world is quiet, white noise filling in the silence. Jack had spent years by Mac’s side, protecting him, guiding him. To have it all end here, for Jack to find out that Mac failed and died in a frozen tundra? It adds to the tightness in his chest. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. Mac shouldn't have left the campsite. Neither of them knew that they were being followed. Jack can't carry that to his grave. He can’t think that Mac ever blamed him. This was his own fault.

Someone's holding his shoulder, keeping him upright. Another wave is forming in the back of his mind, building in the distance. A promise that he doesn’t have much time left. Distantly, Mac realizes that tears had begun to slowly track down his face.

Was Zoe this cold before she died? His eyes flutter, threatening to close. When the icy water sloshed up past her knees, her waist, about to overtake her head, did she ever feel warm? He couldn't save her. Why couldn't he save her? The world spins dangerously, tilting to one side. Mac rolls his head with it, wondering if he'll fall off into the darkness below. He's so, so tired.

Maybe he'll see her.

“Geez, kid.”

A hand moves in his peripheral, and then Jack is there. Jack is there, his vision blurred by Mac’s tears, like a sick repeat of that night in the war room. This time, the roles are reversed, Jack being forced to watch as Mac finally succumbs to the cold. Terrified. Helpless. At least the real Jack won't have to watch.

Jac- no, not Jack, his hallucination, looks just how Mac had imagined he would look, tense and concerned and wrapped in too many layers “because I hate the cold, Mac.” He slurs out an apology, trying to wipe at his eyes, because even Jack's hallucination shouldn't have to be cold. Murdoc wasn't cold.

“It's okay, brother.” When Jack reaches for him Mac flinches back. Pain always shattered the hallucinations, and he just wants to sleep .Of all the hallucinations he's had, please let this be the one he accepts that warm embrace with. He was done fighting. He'll stop here, with Jack.

Real or not.

But his flinch doesn't deter the hallucination, because it's reaches forward, outward, concern painted all over his face. He, it, Jack, grabs onto his shoulder. It's strong, painful, reigniting every bruise from the last two days. Fear constricts around his chest. But then the fog clears and he's not back in the compound, and there are no syringes or brass knuckles or ropes, just Jack.

Just Jack.

Jack's still there.

For a moment, the world stills. Mac lets out a strangled breath. “J-Jack?”

“Yeah,” Jack, Jack, shifts, laughing wetly as he wipes at his nose, and why was there blood? “Yeah, kid, right here. I'm right here, Mac. Are you back with me?”

Relief hits him like a truck, and Mac doesn't realize he's falling forward until Jack grabs him. The older agent is talking, and it's too loud and too fast, or maybe he just can't keep up. He hasn't been keeping up. Mac barely recognizes the steadying hand that remains on his shoulder, pushing him back up to a sitting position. His body feels heavy, his head light. The tears don't stop dripping down his face.

“Hold on, Mac. Hold on. Man, brother, do you realize how messed up you are right now?”

And then Jack is touching him, warm, solid, there, hands brushing over the bruising on his arms, neck, and torso as he checks for any serious damage. Mac can only blink now, taking in every detail. Sleep's tendrils still wrap around his mind, promising. But he can't listen to it. Not now. His eyes flick over his crease between Jack's brows, the redness of his cheeks, the snowflakes caught on his jacket. His breath catches every time he inhales, disbelieving. Even the pain is background noise at this point, Jack in the forefront. He can't... he can't be real.

Is this the drugs?

“Geez, Mac, you're freezing.”

And then Jack is pulling off his soaked shirt. Mac lets him. Everything feels heavy, distant, and maybe he can still drown. The wave is closer, daunting as it looms in the horizon. Jack moves slowly, oblivious to the water, working the sleeves off his arms. It's already been pulled over his head, Mac realizes. Jack presses warm fingers against the inside of Mac's wrist.

Mac's eyes fall to his hands, almost uncomfortable with the warmth as Jack holds his arm steady. His fingers were... blue? They shouldn't be... shouldn't be blue...

“Hey, hey. You stay with me, brother.” Suddenly, Jack's snapping in front of his face, pulling Mac from a brink he didn't even know he stood on. It's... terrifying. Dangerous. He lets his shaking fingers twist into the sleeve of Jack's shirt. Grounding him. Finally, he has something to ground him.

Don’t be the drugs.

“Easy. Right here. I'm right here. Haven't left ya. Hold on.”

And it doesn't make sense. “J'ck...”

“I know, Mac. Give me a minute.” Jack zips down his jacket. Mac's grip tightens. Every muscle tenses, and it hurts. He's shaking his head, even as Jack pulls off the layer and drapes it around his shoulders It's too cold not to be wearing a jacket. Jack should know this. Jack can't freeze too. Jack can't die with him.

He is helpless to stop it, though, as Jack zips the over-sized jacket up around Mac's form. Jack grabs Mac's numb hands, thumbs brushing over the rope burns circling his wrists, and puts them in the deep pockets. Warm needles prick his fingertips.

This is the drugs.

“It's not. It's not the drugs, okay? I'm right here.” Jack's punching something into his phone, one hand holding Mac up. His hunt and peck method is even slower with one hand, and for some reason Mac can't help but chuckle at it. He wonders why Jack looks even more concerned. He doesn't understand how Jack is there.

“Why did you take off your jacket, huh?”

Mac blinks in confusion, a low buzz growing louder in his ears. The exhaustion is settling in his chest, making it harder to breathe. His mind blanks with the answer. He... he had a reason. He meets Jack's eyes, eyes blown wide, and then he turns towards the forest. Panic starts building in his throat. He took off his jacket but he had a-

“Hey, hey, Mac, it's okay. I don't need to know. Not yet. You just stay with me. You're stronger than this, you hear me?” Jack's talking to him. Mac blinks, raising his eyes to meet Jack's. He finds his smile. “That's right. Just stay with me, brother. You did good, and we're going to get you out of here. Get you to a hospital. No more of whatever's going on up there, all right?”

The older agent looks close to tears. Somehow, that was his fault. Mac swallows, because it always was. Was the blood trickling down from Jack's nose his fault too?

Abruptly, Jack moves, leaning forward, and Mac flinches out of instinct. The sharp movement sends the forest into a spiral, spinning and tunneling, and suddenly the whole world drops out from underneath him. He's falling. Falling into the darkness and wait not now I'm not ready-

Familiar hands grab him, halting his descent, and then he is lifted up away from the inky waters.

Jack's talking to someone else, Mac realizes slowly. The gray retreats from his vision. He rolls his head upwards, and the trees are moving. No, he's moving. Jack's holding him, carrying him, trekking through the forest. Was it east?

The world tilts once again.

Maybe he makes a noise, because suddenly Jack pauses, calling out Mac's name. His voice is distant. But he's there. He's right there. Mac breathes through the nausea, nodding once to let him to know that he's okay, he'll be fine. Jack's there.

This... this can't be the drugs.

Jack doesn't respond for a moment, and Mac is suddenly unsure if the nod looked any different than the tremors that have begun to wrack his frame once again. Mac forces out another breath. Wonders if he needs to try to speak.

“Okay, Mac, hold on. Just a little longer, brother.”

But Jack knows. He always does.

It's when the helicopter comes into sight that Jack starts talking directly to Mac again. It's a soothing flow of words, something about Bozer and hot chocolate and blankets. He's past the point where he can focus on them. Instead, Mac lets the words wash over him, comforting his frayed senses. He buries his nose into the jacket, welcoming the comforting smell of leather and cologne that was just Jack. This is... this is safe.

This isn't the drugs.

Finally, safe in Jack's arms, Mac lets his eyes drift close.

[mediocre-writerr]

safe and sound [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x reader

requested by anon: Hi! I love your Criminal Minds fics and was wondering if I could make a request? Where JJ and reader are dating and it’s set during the season 7 finale where reader is the one who shot the robber and is the one who was taken instead of Will. JJ and reader reunite with a fluffy ending. 

*not my gif*

Kings and Queens. Jacks and Jokers. 

Sound familiar, right? When you hear that you think of the playing cards, not some bank robbers who have been robbing internationally. 

It was a bank robbery. Something that you have been reported to at least five times throughout your career, but this time it was different. The robbers known as the “Face Cards” have been robbing banks all over the DC area, only this time were you called onto the scene.

You and your partner Will were driving around on patrol when your police radio went off, “All units in the vicinity of Penn and Southeast, robbery in progress at Colonial Liberty Bank. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at the Colonial Liberty Bank. All units.”

Will and you looked at each other as you grabbed the radio, turning the steering wheel to make a U-turn, “426 responding,” 

Will flicked on the sirens as you started to pick up speed. The two of you finally parked on the side of the bank to prevent them from escaping through the side doors, “Better pull back and see if they respond-” Will was about to go on went a shot rang out and a bullet narrowly missed his head. 

“Shit! Cover!” you yelled. 

The two of you took behind the car as you fired at the man who tried shooting Will. The bullet ripping through the man’s shirt and through his shoulder. You watched as the other man began pulling him away from the door and back inside. 

You called for backup and not too long after JJ came running towards you, embracing you in a tight hug, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, Will over here got pretty lucky,” you said with a smile on your face, patting his back. 

JJ scanned your face, her hands never leaving your cheeks. You grabbed a hold of her hands, pressing a kiss to the palm of them, “I’m okay, let’s just try catching these guys okay?” you whispered and she nodded letting out a sigh. 

Most of the day was spent talking to Chris as you all watched Oliver die. The only goal was to get the hostages out of there without anyone getting hurt, “No more feds. I want the cop who killed my brother,” you let out a sigh, placing your head in your hands.

You, Morgan, JJ, and Hotch all stood there in the van, “Well, I gotta go out there, don’t I?”

“No, absolutely not!” JJ exclaimed.

You looked at your girlfriend with a sad smile, “What other choice do we have?”

“Something! Anything else! They will shoot you the second you walk in, is that not running through your brain?!” she basically yelled.

Hotch and Morgan met your eyes and they took your face to give the two of you some space. Once they left, you looked at JJ and placed your hands on her waist.

She finally leaned in to your touch and placed her hands softly along your neck. You placed your forehead on hers as she sighed. You pressed your lips on hers, kissing her intensely. You wanted to show her how much you love her and care for her even if you’re about to run into a bank full of robbers who probably want you dead.

Once you pulled away, she noticed the determined look in your eyes, “No, no, no! You can’t do this! What about us? What about Henry?” 

“Four people are dead because I killed his brother,” I whispered. 

You pulled away from your short embrace, walking backwards towards the door of the van, “No please! Please don’t leave me!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face as she slid her back against the wall.

You wanted nothing more than to run up and hold her, but you knew that this needed to be done. So no one else could die for your mistakes. “I don’t have a choice baby,” you whispered again, “I love you and I love Henry. Remember that, always,” 

Hotch already knew what you were gonna choose, SWAT members hid behind the cop cars, already pointing their guns inside. You took a deep breath as you started to walk towards the bank. 

You could hear JJ’s screams as you slowly walked towards the bank, “Morgan! Let go of me! Y/N! Y/N stop!” 

You raised your hands up immediately, walking into the bank, “C’mon Chris, you got what you wanted. I’m here. Now please, let them go,” 

“You go,” Chris said, forcing a mom and her children out of there, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him. 

There was no response from him as he just shot you twice. The bullets firing echoing throughout the entire building and outside. JJ scrambled in Morgan’s arms, her bright blue eyes widening, “No!” 

The team sat there in the van with JJ. All eyeing her like she was about to just explode. One wrong word would just cause her to go crazy, “Where were they shot?” she asked. Garcia just stared at her unsure of what to say, “Where were they shot?!” 

“I don’t know,” Garcia muttered. 

JJ picked up the stack of papers that were lying next to her and threw them at the wall of the van. Smacking her hands down onto the cool metal. Everyone just stared in shock, unsure of whether you’re alive or dead.

Luckily, he didn’t go for the kill shot.

You laid there as you could feel your body going cold. Your shoulder was bleeding out and the hostages who were helping you started to get a little blurry. 

All you could think about was JJ and Henry. The way Henry would run up to you when you’d go over to their house and hug you tightly. 

Or the nights where both you and JJ were off, Henry would lie in the middle of you as a movie played. Eventually, Henry would fall asleep cuddled up next you. Then JJ’s lazy arm would wrap the both of you. Once you made sure they were both sleeping soundly, you’d wrap your arms around both of them safely and securely. 

“I need to cause a distraction while you guys get out of here,” you told the man, who was applying pressure to your wound, “But I need you to tell my girlfriend Jennifer and her son Henry that I love them so much and I’m sorry,” 

The rest of the time you spent at the bank was a little fuzzy. You were more focused on trying to get Chris to turn on the woman and trying not to pass out from blood loss, than anything else. 

Before you knew it there was an explosion and you were just getting pushed into a car. The whole car ride, you focused your breathing, trying your hardest to stay awake. 

The only thing keeping you going were JJ and Henry. What you would do just to hold them one last time. 

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when you arrived at a fire station. The fireman helped patched you up much to Izzy’s choice. You watched as she shot him multiple times before sneaking into the firehouse to grab you a change of clothes. 

“You didn’t have to kill him,” you muttered.

“He was a witness, he needed to go,” she shot back without an ounce of remorse. 

Then the next thing you know you were transported back to the car. Everything was going fine or well okay for being a hostage to two psychopaths. Until Izzy just started opening fire on Chris.

“Well Detective Y/L/N, take Chris out of the car and get in the passenger seat. We’re going on a little drive,” she told you, the gun pointed straight at you, “Stop here,” she muttered after a little bit.

The backdoor opened to reveal the Joker himself. He was the former Marine who helped keep pressure on your wound. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight before ultimately remaining your composure.

“Hey Y/N!” he patted your wounded shoulder and you tried your absolute hardest not to wince, “Sorry, forgot about that,” 

“Drive,” she said again.

“Where?” 

“Take me to see your son,” Izzy said and you shook your head. Henry wasn’t your sign biologically, but the longer you and JJ dated the longer it felt like he was. Like your entire life he was actually yours, “I said, drive!” 

You took a deep breath in before driving towards JJ’s house. The drive was tense as your knuckled turned white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. You just hoped and prayed to whatever type of God there was that they could keep Henry safe. 

JJ would be able to get over the loss of you, but the loss of Henry. That’s a different kind of loss she’ll never be able to survive. 

You finally parked across the street. You smiled softly at the sight of Henry playing in the front with Miss Kate and her daughter. 

“He’s a cutie,” Izzy told you and your smile quickly faded, “Looks a lot like Jennifer. Where’s the hospitality Y/N? Come on introduce me!” 

You got out of the car slowly walking up to the house, “Y/N!” Henry yelled, running towards you as he wrapped his arms around your legs. 

You crouched down so his tiny arms can wrap around your neck. You held him tight and close, sucking in a deep breath. Just for a moment, you were transported back to one of your favorite parts of the week. Just for a moment, he was safe in your arms.

Until he wasn’t. 

You told Miss Kate that it was okay to go as Izzy followed you into JJ’s home. Once Henry ran off to grab some toys, you turned your head and looked straight at her, “You touch my kid and I will kill you!” you said with teeth gritted.

Izzy clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth, making a tsk noise, “Now do you remember the deal Y/N? You touch me and both you and Jennifer die. Who’s gonna take care of Henry then?” 

“Y/N! Come play with me!” he exclaimed, running back in.

You crouched down again, ruffling his blonde hair, “I would love to, but I can’t right now buddy. You see, I have to go back to fighting bad guys, okay? Izzy over here is gonna take care of you until mommy comes home,” you could feel the tears start stinging your eyes as you tried to stop them from falling.

“So you’re gonna be a good boy for Izzy, okay? Listen to everything she says, okay?” you ask him

“Okay,” he replies innocently. 

“One more thing bud,” you pull him close to you as you hug him tightly, “I know I am not your mom or dad, but I love you so much. Did you know that?” 

He nods and you smile softly, “I will never let anything hurt you. Everything is going to be okay,” 

“Everything will be okay,” he mumbled back, “I love you Y/N,” 

You sniffled, “I love you too buddy,” 

You take a deep breath and back away from him. Before you walked out of the house, you looked Izzy dead in the eye, pushing your shoulder against hers on the way out. 

You sung open the car door before slamming it shut, “What the fuck do you want?!” you asked. 

“Woah, easy tiger,” Matthew told you, “You’re going to listen to everything I say. If you as dare mutter the two lettered word, your boy is as good as gone. Or should I say Jennifer’s boy is as good as gone because he’s not yours. He will never be your own kid,” 

Matthew made you drive to the train station where he strapped a bunch of bombs to your chest and chained you up like you’re some random zoo animal. Then he ran, like the coward he is, he ran. 

You thought you were as good as gone. But that didn’t matter to you. All that mattered to you was that Henry was safe. He was stuck with the psychopath that is the quote on quote “Queen”. 

Just when all hope was lost Prentiss came running in, “I found Y/N!” 

She ripped the duct tape off your mouth, “Izzy’s got Henry. Forget about me! Make sure Henry’s safe, please!” 

“JJ’s there right now. She’s gonna keep him safe,” Emily tried calming you down, “I’m not leaving your side, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can be with your family,” 

Emily was panicking as she tried to find a way to keep you from blowing up into bits. She punched in one passcode and it beeped, showing that she only had two tries left. 

You shook your head, knowing that in a minute you’ll be gone, and Emily could not be here to be included in the damage.

“Emily, just go. Get everyone out of here,” you pleaded.

She shook her head, “No, I told you you’ll get to be with your family and that’s what’s going to happen. I’m not going to leave you,” 

When she finally unlocked the code, another box opened. 30 seconds flashing and taunting you. This is how long you have left live. 

“Emily, tell JJ that I love her and that I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Now leave please! There’s still a chance that you could save yourself so go!” you screamed. 

She sat there looking at the wires before out of nowhere without speaking she just cut one, “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, shutting your eyes close.

After a couple seconds, nothing happened. You opened one eye and looked down at the timer. It stopped. You let out a breath and an empty laugh, leaning your head against the pole.

“Emily, I love you and I love that you’re JJ’s best friend. But let me just say, I did not think we’d get this close to where I trust you with my life...literally!” you joked and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get you to your family,” she told you.

As soon as the bomb squad came to disarm you, you wrapped your arms around Emily, pulling her into a tight hug, “Thank you,” 

“Of course,” 

You were finally discharged from the hospital after a couple hours. Rossi reassured JJ that she could stay home with Henry and that he’ll drive you to the house. She was hesitant at first, but Rossi basically forced her to stay home.

Rossi parked in front of JJ’s patting your shoulder softly, “Enjoy your time off,” he joked.

“Oh trust me, I will,” you fired back and the two of you let out a hearty laugh.

You walked into the house slowly. Henry’s little voice echoing throughout the foyer was like music to your ears, “Y/N! You’re back!” he yelled.

You kneeled down as he made a bee line towards your arms with your arm that wasn’t in a sling, you hugged him tight. Even with one arm you could tell that he was struggling to breathe at how tight you were hugging him.

“I am! Did you pick out a movie tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows up at him.

“Yup!”

“Which one did you pick?” you asked and he showed you the DVD case of Shrek 2, “Nice choice bud!”

You looked up to the sound of footsteps to see JJ walking towards the two of you, “How about you brush your teeth and change into your PJ’s and me and your mom we’ll get the bed and movie all set up? How does that sound?” 

“Great!” he replied with a big smile.

“Great!” you responded, ruffling his hair, pulling him into another hug, “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too,” he told you before running off. 

You stood back up to face JJ. At first she looked angry before her anger turned to sadness. You took her into your arm as she buried her face into your neck, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “Everyone’s safe. I’m safe, Henry’s safe, you’re safe. We’re okay,” 

JJ took your face into her hands, running circles on your cheekbones, “I know Henry’s not biologically mine, but he means the world to me Jay. I wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to him,” 

“You’re just as much as a parent as I am,” she whispered.

“But he’s not mine,” you told her. 

“Then let’s change that, Y/N Y/L/N, marry me. We’ll get married in front of all of our friends and family. Henry will be your son, blood or not. And I will be your wife,” JJ whispered.

You smiled at her softly, “You know, I always wanted a wife and son,” you whispered to her.

“So is that a yes?” she asked.

“In every single language,” you murmured, pressing your lips upon hers. 

You and JJ stood there for a minute, just relishing in each other’s embrace. Your lips moving in sync. When all of a sudden you hear a little, “Ewwwww,” 

The two of you pulled apart and you saw Henry all dressed up in his Captain America pajamas, “Who are you ‘eww-ing’ Mr?” you asked him and he giggled as he ran away from you.

You immediately ran after him, JJ yelling after you, “Y/N! Be careful of your arm!” 

Henry squealed as you picked him up with your one healthy arm, spinning him around the bedroom before dropping him onto the bed. You crashed in your usual spot next to him as JJ put on the movie. 

You felt Henry’s little arm wrap around your body and once his grip loosened you knew he was asleep. Your eyes glanced over to JJ who was sleeping safe and soundly, her chin resting on top of Henry’s blonde head of hair. 

You sighed contently, as you turned on your side, wrapping your arms around the two of them. Henry’s head close to your chest as your forehead rested on top of JJ’s. 

Just for a moment, everything was right where it needed to be.

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: heavy drinking, someones arm gets broken, also some very vague mentions of a shootout, reader is in denial about being in denial (so the usual pretty much)

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You thought it would just be one coffee. One simple mistake as a result of you being extra tired, or something like that. You’d give it to him, hear his stupid little remark meant to rile you up, and then it’d be done - it would never happen again. 

Here’s the thing, though: you kept making more. After that day, every morning when you woke up, you’d grab two coffee mugs and make one for the both of you - yours with extra cream, his straight black. You knew he liked to add a shot of whiskey to his, even though you pretended not to notice when he not-so-discreetly pulled his flask out. Whatever he needed to get through the day, you shrugged, watching him out of the corner of your eye. You certainly weren’t about to judge him for his drinking habits in light of your own less than stellar track record. 

Neither of you dared to mention it so far. You hoped to high heaven that he wouldn’t: his little tease on that first day was barely enough to get under your skin though it had stuck to the back of your mind every morning you woke up. You’re not getting soft on him, are you?

Shaking your head furiously, you let out a low frustrated sigh as you moved to reach out for the bottle of wine next to you once more, flicking off the top and pouring almost a good half of the bottle’s contents into your glass. It was a Wednesday night but you didn’t much care - if the hangover was that bad the next morning, and it never usually was with a shiraz, you’d get some painkillers and get on with your day. The same thought as before repeated itself in your mind again, doing nothing short of vexing you further. Partially because you were worried it was true. Maybe you were getting soft on him. Maybe you weren’t as strong and stubborn as you thought if Jack Daniels had managed to worm his way back into your heart.

No. That couldn’t be it. You tossed your head back and indulged yourself in a rather large gulp of wine, letting the liquid rush down your throat in a desperate attempt to dilute the pitiful nonsense that had filled your head. What a ridiculous thought. You weren’t falling for Jack Daniels charm once more. No, you simply wouldn’t do that. You knew better than that. You knew that underneath that smooth facade was a flitting and emotionally unavailable man, the man who had broken your heart and made you suffer for what felt like evermore. You may have felt pity on him for his fall from grace, but anyone else would if they saw the state of him. Discarding the glass off to the side, you wanted to laugh at the simple absurdity of such an idea. Are you always this stupid with a wine-addled brain? 

Speaking of the devil, you heard his footsteps from up the stairs, taking you by surprise as you were certain that he was asleep by now. You crocked your head to the side, your eyes travelling up the stairwell to the small part of the landing that was in your immediate vision - you couldn’t catch a single sight of him. Shrugging to yourself, you returned to your almost empty glass of wine, feeling that familiar haze descend over your brain with every sip you took. This was fine. You could let yourself be swallowed by the alcohol, maybe even enjoy the fact that your nerves were loosened for just this once. If it could take all that shit away, then you’d gladly let it. And as for Jack? You’d continue on as you were: barely acknowledging his existence, and regarding him as nothing more than a ghost from your past. That’s what you wanted, right?

You’re lying to yourself and you know it.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you stared out into the space in front of you, your mind lost a million miles away while you were in complete and utter astonishment over those few words that had crossed your mind. Things were quiet, still, even peaceful in a way, only for a second anyhow. That was before the rush came, that incensed anger that flashed across your mind for barely a moment, settling down into something resembling vague annoyance, directed at none other than yourself. Where the hell did that come from? For god's sake, get a grip on yourself. Standing up abruptly, you didn’t even stumble as you advanced back over to the liquor cabinet, dropping to your knees and scanning the tops of the glistening glass bottles under the dim lamp light. Your eyes landed on the bourbon you had stashed at the back and you reached out for it, carefully lifting it above all the others despite your intoxicated state. Resting the bottle against the palm of your hand, you let your fingers trace the grooves in the molded glass, a small bit of hesitation working its way into your mind, hesitation that was swiftly kicked aside in favour of that pesky little buzz that danced around the back of your head, that stupid little crumb of self doubt that refused to fucking leave. 

Guess I’m gonna need a bottle of something stronger to kick this shit. 

___

He didn’t know why he kept watching you. You weren’t doing anything particularly notable - you’d decided to take one of the horses out for a ride, practicing vaulting and the like. He remembered you’d once told him that as a young kid that you’d entered a number of equestrian competitions, and even won a few - he’d seen the trophies gathering dust on the mantle and the cute photos of you posing with your chosen horse, Buttercup, as a child. You explained years ago that you’d stopped participating in competitions but still liked to take the horses out for a spin every once in a while as a way to relax and clear your head. As he watched you now, he could already see the stressors of the day melting away from your visage, leaving only a steely focused expression in its wake as you cleared another jump. 

It was the first time in weeks he’d seen you truly relaxed at all, or showing any sort of emotion other than your usual show of cheerfulness you splashed on for the customers, woven with a current of underlying stress and irritation. Seeing you like this couldn’t help but remind him of better times: you’d taken him out on the horses more than a couple of times when the two of you were together. Jack had always labelled himself as something of an animal lover, ever since he was a kid. He didn’t, and hadn’t, had any pets for a good ten years now though at some point long ago he wanted something similar to what you had - a nice ranch situated out in his home state of Kentucky with a bunch of animals and his family. That dream had seemed so close to him once that he could have sworn it would be a reality yet fate wasn’t so kind to him in that regard. The memory of it all alone hadn’t ceased to become any less painful to him: seeing the broadcast on the news of a shootout down at a local convenience store only to get the call moments later confirming what he’d already feared to have happened most. 

Not a day passed where he didn’t wish he could go back to a time before that day, where even the simple idea of having a family didn’t seem so foreign and unattainable. He felt himself grip onto the wooden bar of the veranda just a tad bit tighter the longer his thoughts fixated on it, though the sound of a piercing shriek immediately brought his attention back to you, his eyes darting around in a frenzy, determined to know what had caused you to cry out in agonising pain. Upon seeing your body lain flat on the ground he rushed forward, vaulting himself over the edge of the varanda and calling out your name. “Are you alright, sugar?” he shouted, throwing open the gate to the ring and racing over towards where you were lying. The faint sounds of you whimpering did nothing short of send him into panic mode, seeing how much it hurt you to move only adding to his worry. “I’m fine, I just...the dumb horse got spooked by something and bucked me off” you groaned, struggling to pull yourself up, leading you to let out another loud yelp when you tried to move your left arm.

Swooping in to catch you before you fell, Jack gently reached for your arm and pulled it towards him, his eyes widening the moment he caught sight of the horrific fracture done to it. “Darlin’, don’t lie to me, you’re not fine. Arms are not meant to look like this!” he stressed, studying your eyes intensely, trying to gauge if you had some sort of a concussion. They were slightly glazed over, and your gaze kept wandering from him as if you were having trouble focusing. “How’s your head feelin’, sweetheart?”. 

“Kinda dazed. Hurts like a bitch as well” you grumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder slightly. Every bone in your body felt like it was screaming at you like some sort of symphony, the pain in your arm being the worst of all. Your vision had also become slightly blurry and kept splitting double every few seconds, only contributing to your general haziness. Your thoughts were running a mile a minute, scattered around your brain and refusing to slow down. Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and up into Jack’s arms, your head lolling slightly against his forearm as he carried you back up to the house. Running through your memory, you couldn’t really remember what had happened fully: you had just made another jump and were circling around the ring to gain speed for another when suddenly you were on the ground and your horse, Molly, was a few feet ahead of you. 

Jack brought you up to the varanda and laid you down on the bench, grabbing one of the old decorative throw pillows you had to rest your head on.“Stay here for a moment, I’m gonna get you some ice, then I’m gonna call an ambulance and get ya to an emergency room” he instructed before ducking back inside the house.

“Is that really necessary, Jack?” you shouted out after him, leading him to stick his head back out the door to look at you incredulously. “Sweetheart, your arm is broken and you're clearly concussed. I think the situation more than calls for it” he replied with a deadpan tone, disappearing back into your house to find you some ice. Resting your head back against the pillows, you turned to see Molly trotting around near the edge of the fenceline, acting as if she hadn’t just thrown you off her back for no apparent reason at all. 

“Yeah, just had to buck me off, didn’t ya? Thanks asshole!” you shouted out, doing your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in the side of your head and the dull ache from where your arm was rested. Thankfully, partially due to the concussion probably, it didn’t feel as bad as before, though at the same time you could have just simply become more tolerant of the pain. Not to say it didn’t still hurt like literal hell or that it was any less easy to take notice of. 

“Honeybee, I get you’re in pain but yelling at the horse isn’t doing anything” you heard Jack say to you as he made his entrance once more, holding a tea towel containing several large blocks of ice in his hand. Muttering out a small ‘thank you’, you took the towel in your hands and pressed it against the swell of your arm, letting out a small hiss the second you felt the sharp sting of the cold on your skin. “I know yelling at the horse does nothing, but it’s making me feel better” you grumbled. 

“Is it? Is it really?” Jack scoffed, subsequently choosing to ignore the sharp death glare you gave him after his flippant remark. “I’ve called an ambulance, they’ll be here to get you to a proper hospital in no time. You really had me worried there when I heard you scream”.

“Oh, so you do care about me after all” you jeered, your signature sarcastic edge seeping through your tone. You shifted slightly to try to position yourself up a little more so that you could face him properly yet as you moved a heavy sting of pain shot through you, causing you to yelp out a little and tense up in response. As if it were instinctual to him, Jack moved towards you and helped you settle back down. “Try not to move too much until the ambulance gets here” he directed. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not, but you could have sworn his hand lingered on your forehead a second longer than it should have, his fingertips brushing against your skin and leaving a burning sensation in their wake, something that, shamefully so, made your heart skip a small beat. “Now, about me not caring - sugar, when are you gonna accept that no matter what happened between us that I still care about you as a person?” he asked. Shoving those thoughts to the back of your mind, you settled on glaring back at him with a quick witted quip to combat him, because that’s all he was to you: an annoyance, a nuisance, a royal pain in the ass. You were doing him a favour by letting him stay with you. There was nothing more to this.

“Try never, asshole” you snapped, one note harsher than you originally intended. As usual whenever you bit back at his banter, Jack shrugged and rested back into the wall he was standing against. For once, though, you felt bad at snapping at him like that - there wasn’t any need for it, he was only trying to help. Not knowing if you could fully coax the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth, you settled on something less apologetic but still sort of the message across. “But...really, thank you. For, y’know, helping me out here” . 

Jack looked at you for a moment, somewhat taken aback at what you’d said before he softened a bit.“Of course, sugar. Call it returning the favour for taking care of me a couple of weeks back” he answered, giving you that sweet smile of his that hadn’t managed to unweave itself from those old memories. And for once, you allowed yourself to smile weakly in return.

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

The Heart Will Lead You Home

A very late spn finale fix-it fic based on an addition to this Tumblr post! Word Count: 1.9k Read on Ao3

There was no stopping the way Dean’s heartbeat stuttered when he saw Ohio on the map, the wound still too fresh. Every press of his foot to the gas pedal felt like stepping on his own neck as they cruised along the highway, cornfields turning to soybeans turning to green galaxies of fireflies at night. He thinks he likes these stars better; the blue ones just hurt.

When they cross from Indiana to Ohio the stuttering becomes an ache, like the valves have shut down and the arteries are cut off. He keeps his breaths short and measured, careful, while his hands white knuckle the steering wheel and he presses a little heavier on the gas. It costs him a breath, that foot still on his neck. But he keeps driving. 

The case is a weird one and Dean hasn’t been paying enough attention to explain how he ends up driving out in the middle of nowhere by himself. He can’t even tell you what town they’ve been in the past few days, just knows that there was a lead Sam needed to follow, leaving Dean to cruise down dark country roads that shouldn’t feel so achingly familiar and his chest shouldn’t feel so painfully full and empty all at once. 

But Dean’s not an idiot. He does know these roads and he knows what waits up ahead. He keeps telling himself it doesn’t mean anything. This isn’t some kind of sign, his heart choking and coughing and lurching like a car on its last wheel with every stretch of mile. 

At the sight of the barn he almost turns around. The aching in his chest is seeping into his bones, it feels like they’re breaking from the inside out, like there’s something swelling inside his chest cavity and pushing bone through tissue and skin. 

The barn looks almost exactly the same as last time, the old wood boards grayed and weathered and hanging from the frame with just a few nails and the grace of God - or Jack now, he supposes.

It takes Dean a good thirty minutes to make himself get out of the car. And it hurts. Every movement hurts down to the flex of his knuckles, each foot fall against the hard dirt path. 

Dean stands outside the door, his hand raised to pull it open but unable to follow through. 

Cas isn’t going to be there, he tells himself. Stop being an idiot. Because he has to make sure any lingering tendrils of hope are gone. For whatever is left of his sanity, he just has to. 

He doesn't realize until he’s already opened the door that he hasn’t drawn a weapon. There’s a dark growling voice in the back of head calling him a damn idiot, but it’s not as loud as it used to be. It’s been fading over the years but ever since - ever since… well, it’s been pretty radio silent in the last few weeks.

 It turns out there’s no need for a weapon anyway. The barn is empty save for some abandoned farm equipment and hell’s entire population of spiders. The ground crunches beneath him and Dean looks down to find broken glass everywhere. There are scorch marks on the walls. The air is stale, untouched for years. The last time Dean had been in here it had smelled like lightning. 

With that thought the pain becomes unbearable and Dean shatters like the glass beneath his feet. His hands reach out without thinking, seeking something to grab, to hold onto, but he can’t find anything. He can’t see, can’t hear, all of his senses drowned under the wave of agony ravaging his chest. 

He’s dying. Dean just knows it somehow. But he doesn’t want to fight it this time. The desire isn’t even there. He doesn’t know when that had left him, maybe the night the Empty claimed Cas with a confession of love still wet on his lips, maybe in that void of loneliness once Cas was gone and Dean had sat decimated on the cold floor for hours trying to understand what the fuck had just happened and why he hadn’t been able to say something back, maybe just before Dean had walked through the barn door. Whenever it had gone, it had clearly gone with the angel and Dean didn’t miss it. Didn’t have a reason to anymore.

He’s not going to be there either, Dean hears the last bit of his self-loathing whisper, like one last punishment because even in death, Dean Winchester can’t let himself have peace. 

I know, Dean thinks. He knows Cas is gone, somewhere no one can ever reach him. He’s done the research. But how can you document the existence of something that represents Nothing? That is Nothing but the absence of everything in all of time and space? But he wishes Cas could be on the other side. Even with all hope gone, he still wishes it was possible if only to give Cas the one thing both of them thought they could never have. Because Cas deserved that much. Cas deserved more than the world had ever been able to offer. 

Castiel… Cas… I-

“Hello Dean.”

Dean’s heart stops and his eyes fly open.

He’s here, just feet away, in the same oversized suit and dirty trenchcoat. He’s here.

“H-how,” Dean starts, his mouth too dry. “I don’t- C-Cas how…” 

Cas doesn’t move except to blink. “I think we have Jack to thank for this.” His voice is a deep and gravelly as the day they met and it’s like a soothing balm over Dean’s aching body, chasing all the hurt away like his grace has all these years. 

“He found you,” Dean says because he needs to hear it again. “H-he found you.” Jack did what Dean couldn’t. The pain that has been raging inside Dean is gone, replaced with a weight of gratitude for the kid. 

Cas nods like it’s that simple. “It took a while, but yes. Jack is very… determined. I think he gets it from his father.” The corners of Cas’s mouth soften into a small smile.

Dean doesn’t know how he finds the energy to blush but he feels the heat seep into his cheeks all the same. He has a million questions and another million things he wants to do with his hands right now but they’re safer in his pockets. There are too many words rushing around his brain and none of them feel right, none of them feel like enough. “Did you- what you said,” he tries, desperate to know but not sure exactly what he wants to know first, “when you- did you… mean it?”

A shadow crosses Cas’s face and Dean immediately regrets asking. “You still doubt me?”

“No, no,” Dean hurries to say. Cas hasn’t moved but he feels further away and that alone makes Dean’s chest hurt again. “I know- I know you meant it, Cas. I mean, I-I watched you…” get ripped away again. Cas had said he loved Dean and been swallowed into nothing. It left little to be misunderstood. It was just that… “You’re an angel, Cas,” Dean says, his voice sounding weak even to himself. “You’re like a million years old and - and I’m - you’ve never… is it the same kind of…?”

“You think I do not understand love the same way that you do,” Cas says, voice clipped and dry. It cuts like a blow and Dean can’t help but flinch. But he nods. Cas watches him carefully before nodding himself. “You are right. I am an angel, I was not designed to experience emotions aside from love and loyalty to my creator.”

Dean is deflating before Cas finishes his sentence. 

“And yet… since the moment I first touched you in hell, there has been no being or entity I have trusted more without question,” Cas continues and Dean meets his eyes, confused and dangerously hopeful. “There has been no one I desired to follow to the ends of the Earth as I have desired to follow you. I do not love you the way humans love. Because I fell in love with your soul before any other part of you.” Cas’s arms rise to cross over his chest and there’s a faraway look in his eyes. “I have seen inside of you, Dean, I have seen the core of who you are and carried the roots of you in my arms. I held your soul against my chest and felt the greatest warmth I have known in my entire existence. I felt the true depth of your compassion and love, deeper than any ocean God could ever craft. And I knew before I rebuilt your body that a part of me would always belong to you, and no other thought has ever brought me such peace.” 

When Cas’s eyes refocus they snap to Dean and his next words sink past every barrier of defense Dean has left. “I don’t love you in the same way as a human. I love you more than you could ever truly fathom, Dean. But I know that it is love because you taught me how to recognize the signs. You defined love for me. And even though you don’t feel the same, I am-”

“But I do.” The words jump from Dean’s throat before he can think them through but there’s no way in hell he’s going to miss another opportunity. He’s lost Cas too many damn times to waste a single minute. “I do, Cas. I- I can’t see your soul or whatever but I - you’re the only - Cas, I don’t want to breathe when you aren’t here.” He feels feral as he speaks, ready to jump out of his own skin, and honestly isn’t sure if he’s saying actual words. But the movements of his tongue and lips feel right so he keeps going. “Everytime you leave or get taken away it just gets harder and harder and I don’t- I can’t do it again.”

Cas is watching him with careful eyes, but Dean can see the hope blazing just under the surface. “So what do you want, Dean?”

“You,” Dean says and takes a step forward. “Us. I want us.” 

The hope bleeds through into the blue and Cas’s eyes shine like the stars Dean’s been avoiding. “Is that all?”

Dean shakes his head. There’s a new life unraveling in his head as he takes another step closer to Cas. A life far away from hunting, with a cozy little home with enough yard space for a vegetable garden, a garage to shield Baby when they aren’t filling her trunk with suitcases instead of weapons and driving to the ocean just because. A life with kids and familiar faces at the supermarket and big family dinners with friends on Friday evenings. And Cas. Every minute of every day there is Cas. The only constant, the only necessity. “I have a list,” he admits and takes another step. “But you come first.”

Cas is close enough to touch now and so Dean does. His hands fall on Cas’s waist and slide around his back to pull the angel forward and Cas comes with no resistance. He falls into Dean’s chest like a missing puzzle piece, his arms wrapping around Dean’s shoulders and clutching tight.

“You have me, Cas,” Dean whispers into his angel’s ears. It’s a moot point by now but he thinks they both deserve the reassurance. “You’ve always had me.”

“I want to go home,” Cas says, his voice soft but still sending a rumble through Dean’s body.

Dean clings even tighter. “Then let’s go make one.”

[achliegh]

Trail of Breadcrumbs: Part 1

Okay y’all, I haven't written fics in years and all of them were TRASH (lol). So I’m here to see if I've improved and because I have so many fic ideas in my head that I don’t know what to do with. If you have ideas and nowhere to put them, send them my way (except for fluff I get way too uncomfortable to write that shit).

CW: Smut, cringe fluff moments (because you can’t help but be a little fluffy with these himbos), Trash writing, hand on throat but no choking

All characters belong to @lumosinlove

Finn was just chilling on the couch all stretched out with his ankles crossed as he read A Tell Tale Heart (he had never actually finished an Edgar Allen Poe book and he was determined), freshly showered from their early morning weight training with his glasses perched on his forehead because he was rubbing his eyes and forgot he pushed them up there, subconsciously pulling the book closer to his face. He could hear the shower running, not knowing which if not both his boys were in there. He sighed and yawned a little as Logan walked past the couch to grab his hat off the coffee table.

“Where are you headed?” Finn reached for Logan after setting his book still open on his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist. Lo laughed and turned around with Finn's hand landing on his ass.

“I told you I had to babysit for Celeste and Dumo today Ding-Dong, don’t act like you didn’t whine for a half hour about it because we don’t get to read tonight” Leo and Finn had been taking turns reading a chapter a night out loud of The Lord of The Rings to Logan and they were all really into it by now.

“Breaking the reading streak is punishable, just so you know”

“I hope that's a promise” Lo snorted and gave Finn a chaste kiss as Leo decided to make his grand entrance in only his boxers. Water dripped from his hair down his toned chest that was flushed from his hot shower as he smiled sweetly at his boys and came to stand next to Logan.

“Tell Katie I say Bonjour when you get there!” Leo leaned down for a kiss of his own and right as their lips touched Finn pinched Logan's ass making him jump and knocking his and Leo's teeth together. Making them both pull away as Finn laughed, Logan rubbing his lips and Leo running his tongue over his teeth.

“I guess that's my queue to leave” Logan shot a half hearted glare at Finn and swatted his arm away in the most dramatic of fashions. “Bye guys, love you, don’t have too much fun without me!” he walked towards the door and shoved his hat on his head then after he slipped his shoes on turned around and blew kisses to his boys as he walked out the door.

Leo was suddenly straddling Finn, smiling, he looked him in the eyes and did the infamous Head Tilt. Suddenly, Leo was on his back and Finn’s glasses fell onto his nose and they laughed as Leo set his book and glasses on the table next to the couch as Finn started kissing around the waistband of his underwear.

“Waited for Lo to leave?”

“I didn’t want to but you know he wouldn’t have left and we would have gotten an earful from Dumo- Fuck! Finn just like that” Leo threaded his fingers through his soft auburn hair as Finn sucked him all down in one go after leaving a hickey on his hip. Leo rolled his hips and tugged on Finn's hair just like he knew he liked it. “How long did Lo say he was gonna be gone tonight” Leo was watching Finn intensely as he was pulling off leisurely swirling his tongue on the head of his cock drawing shivers from him. He gave one last long suck on the head and pulled off with a pop while panting, he loves watching Leo fall apart under him and smiles.

“About 2 hours, just while Dumo and Celeste are at dinner” he spoke calmly and nonchalantly as if he wasn’t jacking Leo off with slow tugs with a twist. He lowered his head to lick the slit wanting to taste the bead of precum starting to dribble out. Leo moans and tugs Finns hair hard enough to pull the boy up to have their lips mean in a clash of teeth and tongue, he wraps the hand not in the red locks around the back of the freckles boys neck as Finn keeps pulling hitching breaths and soft pleases from the boy under him.

Leo pulls away and starts kissing Finn's cheek to his ear and basically purrs into his ear. “Finn I want you to fuck me until he comes home~” he sucks on the spot behind Finn’s ear and he tilts his head to the side to allow Leo more of his neck and shivers when He licks from the base of his throat back up the his ear and nibbles on his lobe. “Does that sound like something you want~ if not I can always go and have fun with myself.. mmm fishy” Leo pulls away to look Finn in the eyes and see the soft amber eyes with pupils blown wide and dark with lust.

“As if I would say no” He playfully rolls his eyes as Leo laughs and stands up pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. “Let’s leave a path to the bedroom like breadcrumbs in depressing kids stories” he’s taking off his sweats and underwear leaving them in a perfect like to the bedroom and Leo shakes his head as he also takes off his boxers finally and hangs them on the doorknob then beckons the older boy with a nod of his head into the room.

Next thing he know he’s being tackled on that bed and they are both laughing as they roll a little ending up with Leo’s head hanging off the side of the bed and Finn kissing his neck still chuckling as he fumbles for the 3/4th empty bottle of lube and yells to their Alexa, “Alexa add Lube to the Shopping list” and snorts when she answers as he sits on his heels in between the younger boys legs and smiles at him. “You’re so pretty Peanut” he leans forward and kisses his forehead.

“Sap” Sunshine boy flicks Finn's forehead but can’t stop the smitten smile that lights up his face.

“You’re hanging out with Loops to much if you’re starting to call me a sap”

“What can I say it’s nice to be around someone as mature as I am” he laughs as Finn makes an offended sound and playfully smacks his thigh. “Are we gonna fuck or just laugh at each other while our dicks are out?”

“It’s not so different from every other day in the locker room”

“We haven’t fucked in the locker room-“

“Yet” Finn laughs and adds some lube on his fingers and warms it up by rubbing it between his fingers as he bends down to kiss Leo’s inner thighs smiling into the kisses as he looks up at Leo. “Ready Peanut?”

Smiling as a blush covers his cheeks, blue eyes meet brown. He nods and Finn gently pushes past Leo’s tight ring of muscle as the younger boy sigh in relief and he reaches down to grab behind his knees and pulls his legs up. Finn praises the higher power for his sexy flexible boyfriend that has given him so many ideas in the very moment. He starts pumping his finger in and out of Leo getting more and more turned on by the sounds the Younger boy is making, Leo is normally vocal but Finn can tell he’s putting on a show for him.

“Another, add another! Please Finn I need more!” Leo is moving his hips but since it’s been a while since they have last done anything Finn is a little hesitant to add another so quickly with how tight Leo is. Murmuring hold on babe and be patient, He watched his finger sinking in and pulling out of Leo so many times he probably could have got off on just that but he took a couple deep breaths and added his second finger. “Yes! That feels so good, uh.” Leo’s voice pitched up at the end as Finn curled his fingers finding his prostate, he started moving his fingers faster just grazing that spot every time. He started a rhythm of moving in and out fast and deep for three thrusts and slowing down to curl his fingers to press his prostate on the fourth. Leo had his head thrown back over the side of the bed panting and not forming sentences properly as Finn fucked him with his fingers, he brought his hands up from his knees to his ankles and pulled his legs open as wide as they could so his hands were next to his shoulders and toes touching the bed above his hands and he felt Finn stop and lifted his head to look at him. “What? Why did you stop” he blinked a couple of times and realised his boyfriend was staring at his legs with a face that was just pure awe.

“WHY HAVEN'T YOU EVER DONE THAT BEFORE, holy shit I’m gonna cum just looking at you!” Finn, with a face and chest now as red as his eyebrows, reached his hand down to grip the base of his cock willing himself not to cum at the sight of a disheveled Leo with his fingers in him and his legs stretched so nearly over his shoulders. Fucking goalies man. “ I fucking love my life” he dove in for a heated and sloppy kiss as he added another finger into Leo and pumping quickly because he needed to be in him soon or he would cumbust. ;)

Leo kissed back with a burning passion and arched his back as Finn pounded his fingers in him. When Finn pulled away to pull his fingers out and lube himself up Leo let his head fall back again with a dopey smile on his face.

“Ready my little nutter butter baby” Finn smiles and lines himself up gripping one hand on Leo’s strong thigh and one hand on himself. He looks up to Leo who is biting his lip smiling with his dimples on display and Finns heart did a dumb little flip.

“Ready when you are” Leo winks and his body hums in anticipation and then pleasure as Finn presses forward into him slowly while kissing Leo’s chest leaving small hickeys as he goes. Finn watches Leo’s face open up and his mouth open as he bottoms out. Leo’s moving his hips up to meet Finn and they both sigh. The older boy starts moving slow and Steady but snaps his hips forward causing the younger boy to lose the grip on his leg that Finn had his hand on and pulls it through his own hair tugging on it lightly as an obscene moan falls from him. The pace picks up as Finn moves his free hand around Leo’s neck to just hold not choke because Leo likes to be held but not choked. The hand on his thigh is a bruising grip and the hand on his neck is keeping Leo from flying off the side of the bed.

“I knew the trail of clothes would lead to something good~” Logan was standing in the doorway to the bedroom looking at his boys with dark eyes and a smirk. He locks eyes with Leo and strides over to squat down next to him and be face to face.

“Dites-moi à quel point il ressent mon soleil ~”

To be continued….

[heartless-error]

Dreams

Fandom: DC, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Tim Drake (JayTim)

Rating: Explicit, sexual themes, NSFW

Other link(s): AO3

Once it's a chance, twice is a coincidence and third time is a pattern. Rather a problem, at least for Jason.

He hadn't been surprised the first time it happened, if he was honest with himself he could have seen that coming, given how betrayed and blessed equally he felt when he returned to Gotham and couldn't look away from Tim Drake.

But one thing was dreaming about fucking Tim couple of times and other was dream's world reminding him every night about the sexual and romantic unresolved tension between them.

He just wanted to explode things, dammit.

Dreams

The first time it happened, Jason was not really surprised.

It was, in a certain way, but if he was honest with himself it was something that he could have been expected. Especially considering how his eyes had been glaring almost instinctively toward the object of his desires and the events that have been occurred in the recent months since his return to Gotham.

 At the beginning he was not even aware of what and who was dreaming exactly, but the dream was recreating slowly in a haze which seemed to have darkened his surroundings.

 The world had gone off around him and his partner, he didn’t know where he was or if he should worry about whether the bed in which he was, was his or not, but he doesn’t care at all and if the owner of the room doesn’t care about the clothes scattered around the room, he neither. Especially when he just wanted to feel more of the sensations the other body just gave him at his mercy, his warmth, his movements and how they melt on the sheets enjoying the carnal act.

 It was desperate, impatient, brutal, how they attacked the other, how they felt and swung their bodies in sync seeking their own pleasure. And as their hands caressed firmly each extension of available skin, lips met with passion in deep and impatient kisses, the temperature rose and the breathing quicken, Jason felt a tug on his chest, a feeling between need and ... relief?

 He couldn’t know.

 But he wanted more, more, more.

 He wanted to leave more hickeys, kisses and licks in that small but muscular body, in that scarred and marked skin, perfect at his eyes. He wanted to feel how the person under him shudder and sigh for his touch, moaning because of their hips rubbing against each other in a pleasant frenzy.

 More.

 Faster, stronger, more groans, more pleasure. More of everything.

 “J-Jason… Jason…”

 It was breathed in his ear while strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and a firm leg hooked around his waist. Fingernails raking into his back, that body melting into his touch, making Jason shudder, shake and feel liberated, free, wild.

Slowly he started to know, he knew, he realized it already, who it was and what he wanted from him.

 How much time he had been waiting for this?

 Feeling hazy, Jason ran his fingers around those abs, touching softly those hickeys he had done willingly and drowning in lust in the way the other mewled. He shoved a hand between their legs desperately to stroke their lengths together and starts a firmly sway, inhaling sharply as listened the other person bite a moan.

 God.

 How long he wanted to do this?

 “Jay!”

 He wasn’t sure, but he wants him, he wants him so so much. His whole body was screaming, shaking for him. He wants to mark him, possess him, make him his own, make him scream his name in pleasure again and again until his voice breaks, until he clenches and collapse. Make his brilliant and always perfect brain a complete mess.

 Fuck, he wants him.

 And without stopping that pleasant swing, he raised the other hand to stroke the black hair that had grown again, so smooth, so soft, pulling it back to expose his neck and sank his teeth to leave a rough bite.

 His, all his. For him and nobody else.

 He wants to shout it, proclaim it. Because he knew, he already knew.

 Whose body was this, who was this person. How much he wants to feel him, ruin him, fuck him deeply and incoherently, scream his name in moans and makes him tremble in ecstasy in the same way he was doing just by listening to him.

 Releasing that hair, his hand caress those swollen, red lips, with a clear idea of ​​what he wanted to do next. Which it was immediately understood and put in practice when the other started to suck his fingers as if it were the most succulent dish they had ever seen.

 “Oh, shit… You...” Jason couldn’t help to gasp at that sight.

 Heat eradicated all rational though and at this point he might think that what ran through his body was pure lava. But his brain was a complete mess when the other opened his eyes, when he saw those damn eyes.

 His fucking eyes.

 Those baby blue, almost like ice, were given him the most sinful and provocative look Jason had never seen, with that hunger smile on that angel face. A demon in disguise, making him sweat, shaking his whole world from the inside.

 “¡Tim!” He cried out almost on the edge of ecstasy. “B-Baby bird... Ti- “

 And then he woke up.

 Confused, dazed, tangled in the sheets of his security home’s bed and hornier than he remembers ever having been.

 “Oh.” He said simply, realizing what had happened.

 He could have pretended to be surprised, or think about it, but it was late, he didn’t have to respond to anyone, he was tired, sweaty, his erection needed immediate attention and his brain wasn’t want to think deeply about what the best dream he had in years meant when i was still fresh in his mind.

 So, that night Jason decided to live the moment and took care of his problem between his legs.

 And if he jacked off thinking about Tim Drake and ended crying out his name in the sheets, well, that’s something nobody had to know.

  ~ 0.0 ~

 Nobody had to know, which was fine.

 But he knew it, which was wrong.

 Not only because Tim is legally his little brother, or the third Robin, or Bruce’s perfect soldier, or Gotham’s golden boy, or the person who he tried to kill several times -almost some success over the years-, or those thousands reasons why Jason knew, really knew, it was a little (just a little) wrong to look at Tim in that way.

 No.

 It was because now he couldn’t forget about it too.

 Because after that dream, it was as if a small switch which had been laid in the dark corners of his twisted mind had been pressed, as if a dam had collapsed and all that thoughts that had been behind it had leaked out of control.

 And he couldn’t stop them.

 In his poor and useless defense, he couldn’t have stopped them even if he had realized their existence before. How the fuck he would have known that his Babybird would grow up like that? While he was gone, puberty hit Tim Drake with the strength of three angry Banes, and once the kid got rid of Robin’s suit, grew a few inches (two or three maximum), the lifetime training made effect on his body and his young face was no longer similar to a baby seal, the intelligent and lethal Red Robin was born, whose face was pretty even with the black mask on and that red, tight uniform showed every little and important detail -his ass, he is talking about his ass- that neither him nor the rogues in Gotham should stare.

 But they did, how could they not? Jason had felt betrayed and blessed equally when he returned Gotham and was welcomed by a greater and an incredibly attractive vision of the little and clumsy boy he tried to kill.

 “Got something?” He asked indifferently as he watched Tim navigates databases to find something new about the case they were working together.

 Tim’s penthouse was a mess, like always, and the number of cups of coffee scattered around could be considered indecent and dangerous, but at least was comforting to know that all was not perfect and pristine in the boy. And although Jason was desperate at the beginning knowing how live his replacement, he had already reached the point where they had worked so many time together to let him go and resigned to the fact that Alfred was the only one to do such miracles in the family.

 “Wait.” Tim said totally concentrated, almost ignoring him.

 Well, it’s not personal, he already knows when Tim focus on something he couldn’t stop until it’s finish. He’s like a bloodhound, relentless and stubborn.

 But at the same time, it was annoying.

 Quite annoying, because Jason has been struggling to control certain thoughts about Tim these days, something difficult when Tim is the most unconscious human being of the earth. He really didn’t seem to notice the way he smelled, how he arched in his seat to pay attention at work, how he bites his lower lip in concentration and his eyes sparkled with determination as his uniform highlight every curve and tight muscle of his firm and small body.

 God yes, he’s small. But so dangerous.

 Jason likes that, and maybe he’s just whipped, but he was proud for being so perceptive.

 “What if I bite him?” He though as he fixed his gaze on Tim’s nape, which was partially covered by his dark hair, but not enough to reveal how much the kevlar suit cover above.

 What would be his reaction if he did? If he marked him without any warning and inhale his scent? He would get pissed? Would he look at him with that furious and cold gaze? As much as he likes to tease Timmy because of him reactions, in his dreams he shuddered, moaned and seemed to want more.

 But this was not a dream, of course. And consent is sexy too.

 Even if he wanted to live that dream so much.

 His thoughts were interrupted when those baby blue met his and Tim got up from his seat.

 “I have something. Come on, Hood.” He said as diligent as ever and going to get what was left of his uniform.

 And while Jason was recovering himself, joking and trying to tease Red Robin a little during the patrol, he pretended with that jerk smile of him not to look at that body and appreciate it in the distance.

 Again, his ass.

 “I will get over this.” He tried to convince himself as he follows Red Robin across the buildings, ready to kick out some bad guys tonight to get off his frustrations. “I’m sure.”

 This crush, desire, attraction or whatever he had for Tim now, he will get over it. For sure.

 He has to.

 ~ 0.0 ~

 He couldn’t.

 Moreover, it was worse than ever.

 Because in one way to another they had found out that they were a very good team, which means they started to work together more often, and because they were in field together more frequently, they trusted the other more easily. And the more they trusted each other more down were their guard, and the more they lowered their guard, more comfortable were around the opposite. And were comfortable together meant more cases, more fights covering their backs, more dinners in the roofs, more internal jokes, more movie nights on one of their safe house’s couch in pajamas and popcorn, more training together and remove their uniform and mask when they were alone to eat, laugh or talk.

 Confidence sucks, Jason was sure.

 Especially when that confidence grew up that unresolved sexual tension between them.

 Jason knew he wasn’t the only one, it was mutual. Of course he knew it, he had never been so proud of discover something in his life. And because of the time he had been looking at Tim, he ended up noticing how his Babybird looked at him too when he thought he wasn’t attentive.

 Discreet glances in the cave’s showers or when they wear off their uniforms, prudent touches in any situation that triggered that electricity around them, a flirt that went noticed by the others, teasing jokes, little blushes of one, fantasies of the other, the constant approach and the change of atmosphere when they were together and into their own world.

 “He knows?” Jason asked himself as he looked slightly the guy next to him, trying not to seem too distracted to the film they had chosen to see that night.

 Did Tim knew?

 What he caused? What his approached caused him?

 Now his dreams were more frequent and imaginative, and jerk off his frustrations or kick bad guys was not so effective than before when his mind tells him all nights how good it would be if he grabbed Tim right now, kissed him until he was shivering and whimpering on his lap and fucked him on the couch until he passed out.

 Or on the floor.

 Or the kitchen counter.

 Or the Batcomputer’s board.

 Or Bruce’s office desk.

 Or even on the bed, he could be traditional sometimes.

 It wasn’t healthy to think those things when the object of his apparently now irrepressible sexual libido was right beside him, but lately he also had found himself fantasizing awake and it was that or keep wondering if Tim was aware of what was happening between them.

 Because even if he’s still the most unconscious man on earth, he’s the second-best detective in the world. And throughout these months he has come to possess the strange skill to read him like an open book and understand each of his insults and bad jokes.

 Without realizing it, he looked at the dark-haired boy again. And what was his surprise when he met Tim’s blue eyes in the process, both looking away as soon as possible, as if they hadn’t caught glaring each other in a needy way.

 What was he thinking? Of course Timmy knows, even a dick would realize.

 The question is, what will they do about it?

 Because they had a rough past and Jason is not exactly a being of light, it’s not the best option for Tim, he’s aware of that. And getting along with Tim didn’t mean he was in good terms with the rest of the bats, and especially these days when he had been receiving several threatening and inquisitive looks from Dick and Bruce because of his constant flirt and tease with Tim-Tam, even a… warning? from the Demon’s spawn accompanied by a pair of batarangs directed to his head.

Precisely, the last was the most surprising, who would say the demon child would be protective over Tim? Life is a ride. Or maybe it was because Damian saw himself as the only being with the right to hurt Tim. What would he know about those two relationship, uh?

 But it’s a bad idea, he and Tim, it’s the worst of ideas. Even Jason, who is an expert in bringing out bad ideas, know how bad this idea is.

 But then he looks at Tim again, looks how his eyes pretending to be fixed on the screen, his pout, his legs crossed on the couch, his neck and shoulder exposed because of the ridiculously large shirt (wait, it’s his?), his relaxed posture which is slightly turned toward him, his calm expression and his hips.

 He thinks about how he could hold him without any effort, lift him and take him wherever he wants to possess him, ride his hands over that figure, rip that shirt and eat him alive. Dear god, Tim would moan, he would scream his name, he would make those crystalline eyes look at him with lust and need while his voice breaks because of pleasure. He wants to discover his weak points, where he had to kiss for a sigh, where he had to lick for a groan, how far he could go, how far he could touch him to drive him crazy. Does his blush just stay on his cheeks? Or it would also lower his neck, his chest? He would know, he would know everything if it happened.

 If it happened…

 It would be a one-time thing?

 No, he wanted more, more.

 Their eyes met again and this time nobody looked away. The movie was still playing at the background, the dawn in Gotham was starting behind them, the popcorn’s bowl was forgotten, and the couch was uncomfortable as ever. Jason swallowed hard, Tim settled better into his seat, one sank closer, the other too, their shoulders brushed, and someone stared at the other’s lips, eyes saying something that their mouths couldn’t let out, not yet at least.

 Are they sure that sexual tension is the only thing between them?

 Of course not, they should also do something about the unresolved romantic tension.

 Jason was the one who finally looked away, letting out a sigh.

Because dreaming and fantasizing about fucking Tim was one thing, which didn’t surprise him at first. But dreaming and fantasizing about making love to him, enjoy his body as a lover and kiss him for hours during one of those movie nights without do anything else, was something else, and this surely surprised him.

 He will get over it?

 Maybe not.

 A light weight settled on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen for a second before realizing that it was Tim’s head, who had gathered the courage to slide silently and cling next to his body. Now he could feel his warmth and smell the scent of his shampoo, causing his heart jump and his hand acted on his own to gently embrace the smallest’s back and shoulders, bringing him closer.

 Both sighed and relaxed at the touch. Tim closed his eyes and Jay still pretended he was watching the movie.

 And he knew.

 No, he wouldn’t get over it.

  ~ 0.0 ~

 And he didn’t.

 Something which he was now quite grateful.

 “Look at me.” He ordered in a groan, accelerating his movements. “Tim, look at me.”

 The younger was tense beneath him, blushed and arching towards his touch as he accelerated the movement of his fingers inside him, preparing him for what they would do next.

 Jason may wonder if this was another dream, he could almost believe it, but he had verified from the start of the night that this was real, it was really happening. The doors were locked, their uniforms scattered on the floor, the sheets rumpled and sweaty and the room smelled of sweat and sex. And nothing could convince him more than Tim at his mercy and his own body quivering in a mixture of pain and heat equally.

 Patrol tonight was quiet until an explosion in the port disturbed the usual harmony of Gotham. And the fact the he was innocently and casually walking around there has nothing to do with it, okay? It was pure coincidence.

 It was also a coincidence that the explosion catches him close enough (rather fleeing) to blast him and left him a little -just a little- dazed on the ground, and Red Robin was the one closer to the incident. It had not been so much, seriously, he was already standing and ready to go when Red Robin arrived, but apparently he had his coms on and showing his location next to the explosion -something that nobody can prove, we have a deal, Oracle-, and those seconds of silence afterwards worried his Babybird and made everyone think that he could have dead… Again. Jason could have made a bad joke about that, but he couldn’t because Tim had approached to give him one of the most effusive and desperate kiss nobody had given him in his life.

 Obviously, he couldn’t miss that opportunity.

 Being close to an explosion or not, nothing nor nobody would have stopped Jason to return that kiss harder and roughly. And then another, and another, and another… They went to the closest safe house in a speed which Barry Allen would be proud of, and they entered the room bumping with everything in his path between deeply kisses and impatient hands tearing up their uniforms.

 Even if he should, he didn’t think about rest when he finally was in the mattress sharing passionate kisses with Tim as the younger was rubbing on his thigh and murmured in shivers how jerk he was and how he would bring him back to hell if he dare to die again. And, of course, it was impossible to think this was a dream when the same dark-haired boy pinned him in the bed, caressed tenderly every inch of his body, marked him willingly and then made to him literally the best blowjob ever. Jason could have babbled every compliment he knows in any language, but he couldn’t remember because Tim shut up his brain completely with that mouth.

 The kiss that followed that was seductively and satisfying, and Jason couldn’t wait more to grab Tim’s ass -finally- to turn them over and lean over his body to whisper on his ear how much he wanted to fuck him, whose response was a sharped smile and a “Okay. And what are you waiting for? An invitation?”

 And why they had taken so long to do this?

 Hell, if he’d know.

 If he had known how good it would be, how precious it would look Tim in his arms, how nice would be his smell, his body, all beyond fantasy. Each kiss was addicting, and every touch felt right, proper. Their connection was latent and the trust between them plus what they had been repressing flooded them, came to light and drowned them in sensations and joy.

 His erection was going to explode at any moment if he keeps going like this, and his fingers moved inside Tim to reach that point that would make him whimper incoherently. And still this wasn’t enough, it wasn’t, because as much Jay can enjoy the view, have one of Gotham’s desirable men melting and begging for his touch, listening to those delicious sounds which dreams couldn’t even match, there was something Jason loved much more about Tim and he was trying to hide.

 “Fuck Tim, look at me.” He groaned again, removing his fingers inside of him. He had waited enough. “I need to see you.”

 Tim, who was hiding his expression against the pillow until now, turned over when Jason’s fingers left him, and the sound of a condom wrapper broke into the room. He was lucky Jason was putting on the protection because he could have cum at that moment just by seeing Tim’s expression flushed and overwhelmed in heat.

 When Jason found himself ready, he placed between Tim’s legs and his breath hitched when the smallest hooked his legs around his hips and clung tightly to push him forward. Jay placed his hands over the other’s shoulders and looked at Tim expectantly, a smile began to form on his lips, but doubts started to lurk in the back of his mind. He was sure that Tim wanted him, but he couldn’t help to make sure that his Babybird knew where he was getting into.

 Rolling his eyes and flicking his tongue, Tim wrapped his arms around Jay’s neck to pull him down and bend closer to his face, looking him directly into his eyes.

 “Jason, if you don’t fuck me right now as you promised you’d do, I will commit a crime.” Jason wasn’t sure when he promised something like that -probably when Tim was absorbing his soul in that blowjob- but he wouldn’t want to break that promise. “I haven’t spent years dreaming about this moment so that now you doubt.”

 Jason let out a sigh and nodded, he will ask about “that years” later. Instead, he took a moment to feel their bodies almost fitting perfectly, how good it was to have that small, warm silhouette against him, clinging him with confidence and in a way that he wasn’t allowed anyone in a long time. Jason looked those baby blue for a second, searching for a hint of doubt, and when he couldn’t find any, just smiled genuinely at the affection and lust reflected there.

 One of his hand just caressed gently the scar on his Babybird’s neck, that one which he put there when his mind was broken and full of pain and misdirected anger. And when Jason moved to kiss it, Tim just purred in the touch and a little, a shy smile appeared on his face as he led his fingers through his hair.

 “You know, you’re not going to get rid of me now.” Jason breathed against his lips, sinking finally into him and melting in the warmth feeling.

 “As if I wanted to.” Tim answered him with a radiant, happy smile, demanding later a deep kiss as he settled into his arms, as if that were the place where he belongs to.

 It was the closest to an “I love you”, “I know, me too” they would have at this moment, but it’s enough. They don’t need nothing more, they understand each other, and sometimes their actions talks more than words. And they would need much more than a confused Bat-clan to separate them now, so they have much, much time to say it, to love each other properly.

 Luckily, they have time now to left behind dream’s world and start living reality together, which is infinitely better at all levels.

[bnhavibes]

STEAMY MAKEOUTS???NOT TOTALLY SMUT BUT STEAMY. UR LIKE MY NEW FAVORITE AUTHOR U SEEM LIKE A GOOD TIME AHAHA ILY

Making Out pt 2!

Bakugou, Todoroki, Izuku x Fem!Reader hc

Warning! KINDA NSFW

tw/ swearing!!! dirty talk, heavy groping(and booty smacking), dry humping 🥵

Bakugou, Katsuki

Being the type of guy Bakugou is, you know he’s gonna get as much of you as he can.

Though he doesn’t really like to show PDA at school beyond holding hands or embracing one another, he occasionally will pop up while you’re about to take a “bathroom break”

(going to the bathroom and just sitting on your phone and messing with your hair/makeup because, well, you ARE the girlfriend of the rebellious ass of the school so you might as well try to be the nicer part)

But somehow, he always knows when to find you.

And pulls you into a nearby janitors closet every time.

You know it’s him just by the grip that he has on you.

how it should hurt by the way it looked, but he was so passionate as grabbed you by your hips and hiked up your skirt; lifting (yanking) your legs off the ground and around his waist

“Oh (Y/N), I’ve missed you a lot today.” He groans as you’re pushed into the door with his body. His lips and tongue meet yours as he snakes his right hand up your body to squeeze your cheeks together; forcing your mouth open as he lapped at your tongue.

Instantly, you salivated.

You loved when he was like this.

During these closet visits, it’s clear that he must have had something crazy happen in class where somebody said some “u t t e r bullSHIT” about team work or gotten pissed off at his internship the day before.

“Uhnmm, ‘Suki~,” you moan in his ear, his mouth marking your now exposed collar bone and neck. “I’ve missed you more.”

did you— did you just... ch— challenge him?

WHAP! The sound of his hand was louder than the hit, but oh did that do something to you.

“S-So lewd, S-Suki.”

“Yeah?” He says more than he asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he returns his hands to your ass and rubs the hardening length under his pants against your aching core

You know you shouldn’t have challenged him. The smell of your arousal was filling the tony space, and he moaned at the familiarity.

“You think that I’m lewd, princess?” He growls, “That— That ffucking smell, that’s what’s lewd.” He groans as he continues to grind his pelvis into your hips.

His whole frame was shadowing you, and you couldn’t help but moan at the naughty idea of him taking you like this later tonight.

But right now, you knew the deal; No sex at school.

But..... you can makeout right ?

“God, I wish I could fuck you, right here, right now.”

‘Ahhh, so somebody was butthurt at training?’ You think to yourself.

That meant only complete submission would get him to actually do something.

And God, did you need him to actually do something. (and you knew just how to get what you wanted)

“But, Daddy, our ruuuuleess.”

“Motherfuck— Gah!” He growls,

There’s only one word that can kick Bakugou into ‘fuck them kids’ mode.

“(Y/N), don’t you dare—“

“What’s wrong, Daddy? Can’t handle a challenge like this at school?”

You’re such a minx.

“You’re gonna fucking regret those words, Princess.” He said through gritted teeth, that shit eating, wild, and downright sexy fucking pull of his lips ignited a fire in your stomach.

You were in for it now.

Todoroki, Shouto.

This guy wasn’t as bad with PDA as Bakugou

He was focused on his studies, sure!

But that didn’t mean he had to protest every time you curled up into his lap in homeroom or during those gruesomely boring days where the tests were too easy for both of you.

He loved the way your hair smelled, even as your head was nuzzled into his lap.

He especially loved when just the two of you would sit under a tree on the school grounds, you straddling his lap as his back pressed into the tree

You’d sit there, reading a book to him, leaning your head on his shoulder, just at the crook of his neck.

He couldn’t resist touching the soft skin under your school uniform.

Your thighs???? His delicacy.

Your hips???? So squishy.

Your breasts??— wait

“Sh-Shouto.” You say breathlessly, his aimless wandering unintentionally causing a stir in your stomach.

His mismatched eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“Oh, I— I’m sorry, love, I guess I spaced out a bit there.”

“Mm.” You nod, waiting for him to realize where he was caressing.

He had traced circles on your lower back, but the warmth of your skin started dropping as his hands wandered up and around your body

The pregnant pause gave him anxiety, so he immediately looked for signs of what went wrong.

His face flushed immensely at the sight of your top unbuttoned enough for his hands to slip through, resting one at the back of your neck as the other was cupping your breast underneath a bralette you wore

“I— I didn’t mean to. Please forgive m—mmph.” His moan in your kiss, the way his breath hitched as your tongue met his, all factored into the heat pooling between your legs

He inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut as your hands snake around his neck, deepening the kiss as you lift your hips up, only to scootch themback down(catching his hardening member between your folds on the way)

His trembling exhale only encouraged you further as you kissed his jawline

down his neck

until you found his perfect little weak spot

“(Y-Y/N).” He squeaks out, his cheeks flushed so red you’d think he would have activated his quirk.

“Hmm?” You hum, fluttering your long eyelashes up at him.

“We’re outside.” He warns, looking around at the empty yards

(it was lunch time and too windy for most students to enjoy the outdoors, but you two reveled in isolation.)

“Nobody’ll notice.” You say innocently, hands ready at his belt, teasingly dipping a finger in and out of his waistline

A beat passed before a playful smile grew on his face.

“I have to leave early to see my mom today.”

“I can fake a cold from the weather, and meet you at the dorms in 10.” And with a passionate peck, you were off

Midoriya, Izuku

On the surface, your boyfriend Deku seemed like a pretty innocent enough guy

key words being: “on the surface”

deep down, he was a raging pervert

and you relished in it

Usually.

Caught him (purposefully) jacking off in his dorm? You jumped him.

Walk in when he’s having a wet dream? He’d fuck your face when he’d wake up.

and gooodddd was he so needy when he was horny.

“Baby, cmon it’s just a game! I thought you’d wanna do the challenge for your american friends.”

“A pocky challenge?” You giggle as you walk away with him, his arms tightly wrapped around your hips as he pulled you into his body.

He nuzzled his face into your hair, the box of pocky digging into your hip as his arms squeezed you. “Please, (Y/N), it’ll be fun, I-I promise.”

You huff in response, stopping to remove his hands gently and face him.

“Fine. But later, kay?”

The gleam in his eye was bright, but something else was hidden behind it. You wouldn’t know until now, what exactly clouded his mind as he heard you agree to this challenge.

You were filming (on your bed) for your video to show your friends, your recorded content never to see the light of day , when Izuku had removed his shirt.

“What are you doing, weirdo?” You giggle, but you’re blushing, looking at the viewfinder in confusion and embarrassment.

“It’s hot in here,” He blatantly lies, the grin on his face anything but sweet. You were wearing a camisole style crop top, and a black pair of soffe shorts, a preferred lounging outfit you changed into after school during the warmer days.

“U-Uhh, okay. So, he-here’s the pocky. I got cookies n cream flavor! So u-uh, D-Deku?” You say, going along with his obvious plan.

He was already in your face, his body hot from the state he was in. Apparently being a teenage boy meant times where he was just so horny he had to have you as much as he could.

“Let’s get started.” He grabbed you by the face, a bit roughly, but here you were, mouth agape too far for pocky, salivating from the way he pulled your bodies together by your head.

He had already ate half the pocky by the time it hit your tongue, and he moaned once his own met your lips.

Your pursed your lips quickly, knowing he would take advantage of your well-coated tongue if you let him.

His brows furrowed at your aversion, his hands dropping to your hips, harshly pulling them into his pelvis. Your legs twitched as you felt something throbbing, and hard, grind against your clothed center.

You gasped as you chewed the sweet snack, breath hitching as his tongue retreated with a groan of determination as you opened your eyes and met Izuku’s emerald irises; glossed over with lust.

It was — enticing.

Heat creeped up your cheeks as he bore into your soul, a small smirk beginning to grow as your mouths inched closer together.

You weren’t going to chicken out, however.

Not when he would try to dominate you like this.

Your own smirk grew as you finished the last bite, quickly turning towards the camera, and pushing his body back onto the bed. You sat on your knees, leaning forward to end the recording:

“Looks like it was a draw. Neither of us pulled back before the pocky was done!” You beamed, but in the view finder you see Izuku; His pants pulled to his knees, and hand palming himself over his boxers as he stared at your ass bent over in front of him.

You bit your lip as you watched him, the silence and lack of movement alerting Izuku of your gaze, meeting it through the viewfinder as he licked his lips.

Quickly you turned around, grasping his face with one hand as you pulled him into a sloppy, yet passionate kiss

He moaned beneath you, one hand gripping your ass as he guided your pussy along the length of his boxers

“Ohh~ Doll, I-I’m... mmph—“ You kissed him again, you knew he would be quick the first time so, might as well help him out huh?

You rocked your hips against his body, sandwiching his girth between your folds.

“I know, baby,” You cooed, saliva stringing between your lips and his.

You pressed your lips against his harshly, picking up the speed of your hips, his desperate pants proving his near orgasm.

“You’re so fucking good to me, baby, h-humping my cock, I—I’m so spoiled to have such a nnn-aughty girl like you.” He moans, his jaw slacking as he bucks his hips up into you.

You moan at his dirty words, ‘There you are, Izuku.’ You think to yourself. You secretly loved his lewd and perverted side, it made you feel special to be the only person getting this rise out of him.

Midoriya’s teeth sinking into your semi-exposed chest pulled you from your thoughts as his member pulsated, the hot liquid in his boxers seeping past his layer of protection and mixing with your own arousal-leaking core.

“Uuhhmmph— Baby~” He moans on your skin as his orgasm settles.

“Don’t worry. We’re just getting started. Okay, doll?” He smiles

GOD BLESS ITS HOT IN HERE!!!! who was your fave??? lmk in the comments & dont forgot to send in your requests 🥰

[kadeu]

Accepted — Alis Nazarian

♣️   Alis Nazarian aka. Vesper looks like Angela Sarafyan (actor) ♣️   She was born August 5th, 1869; making her 150 years old but she appears 37 ♣️   This Shifter is Pansexual and an Ace of Clubs ♣️   She is the Owner of Boxing Clubs

Biography

They regarded her with pity.

For valid reasons, of course. To be born to low ranking parents—a 1 of Clubs and 2 of Clubs respectively—was one thing, but for said individuals to remain distant, burdened by their own string of issues that they couldn’t care for each other, for her, was another matter entirely.

Alis Nazarian served as the perfect example of how one’s pedigree mattered little in the scheme of things. Her father’s former status as a formidable Ace and mother’s position as ruthless Queen were a distant memory; something akin to a myth, a tale drummed up by intoxicated patrons over one too many. A once fearsome reputation ultimately lay in ruins, courtesy of destructive habits, and she was the unfortunate victim of their poor choices.

But it wasn’t in her nature to dwell over the details.

There was no point in criticising her father’s penchant for Chrono and mother’s fascination with the gambling scene. No point in wondering just who would guide her along the shifter path, some day, when they were busy with other pressing… matters.

As easy as it might have been to pin her suffering on the pair, she couldn’t find it in herself to indulge in such. The only viable choice was to proceed and push through, regardless of the difficulties associated with it. Sure, the hardships were aplenty, and it would be a blatant lie to say that the frustration hadn’t driven her up the wall on multiple occasions— but it could’ve been worse.

And so, she did what she did best in situations such as these when the odds were heavily stacked against her: survive.

In the hands of distant relatives, family friends, or anyone kind enough to take her in on a temporary basis, she was raised among a bevy of both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Armed with a razor sharp wit and keen eye, Alis seamlessly adapted to each environment she was presented with. Not even subpar sleeping arrangements or measly meals could bring her to tears—in public, at least. Humour quickly became a source of comfort. It was far easier to joke than worry over the fact that she’d eventually have to figure her own way out. Alone, in a society that had it out for her.

What exactly was a girl meant to do in this instance? Sit back and wait for the end? Allow the other Clubs to trample right over her when she was down and almost out like this? Well.

Ask her and Alis would swear that she hadn’t meant to steal that day. Promise. The thought of dipping her hands into the pockets of a highranker was absurd. No one had to tell her twice. Consequences were deadly for someone lowly like her, except the possibility of hitting gold—perhaps in the literal sense—gave her the incentive to give it a go. Just for today, anyway. Better to be taken down on a high than wither away like many had assumed she would.

What she hadn’t expected, however, was to be caught red handed. More specifically, to come face to face with a person who apparently knew her father far better than she did. Even knew her, for that matter.

Huh. It was a goddamn joke that not even Alis could laugh at.

Boris Kuznetsov, he’d introduced himself as over a meal later on. A childhood friend of her father’s, a training partner, a close confidante; the poor soul who’d personally witnessed his demise and didn’t want the same for her. Or so he claimed. Alis barely took note when the abundance of food before her was considered significantly more interesting than whatever he chose to ramble on about at the very moment.

It was a sight that prompted the man to ultimately take her under his wing. Either to keep her off the streets and give her the chance to live, or to restore honour to her family name once more. Maybe both.

In a matter of days, Alis finally understood the very definition of stability: a roof over her head, never-ending meals, proper clothing. There was no risk of having everything snatched from right under her here; a far cry from what she was usually accustomed to. It was the kind of life she’d long been deprived of, yet a life that could be hers, so long as she was willing to, quite literally, fight for it. And was she? Was a reckless street kid capable of making it to the top? Boris thought so.

Whereas he was stern and implemented a strict training regimen as preparation—but also to keep in her line— she was fond of bending said rules when possible. Whereas he emphasized the importance of upholding tradition, she opted to break it and put on her own unique spin on it, instead. And when he’d requested that she get her shit together and actually take him seriously, Alis would pretend to deviate for the sole purpose of hearing him grumble angrily in his mother tongue—only to turn around and prove that she’d excelled in everything he’d taught her so far.

Let it be known she’d developed a soft spot for the old man and would vow to work hard in his name, shit talking and all.

To put it simply, the first few fights didn’t go to plan. Battered, bruised, and brandishing a new scar; her friends considered it an absolute miracle she was still alive by the end, let alone capable of cracking a joke about having her ass handed to her. Trust Alis to see the lighter side when others (see: Boris, always Boris) did not. Although the outcome was widely viewed as a disappointment, especially when her parents were capable of so much more, there was no denying that she was one to be watched.  

Unconventional in her use of weaponry, and unpredictable in her movements; it was startlingly clear that the young woman had all the makings of someone great. Pair that off with a never say die attitude, and her potential would become a popular topic of conversation among the masses. It was only a matter of time until Boris honed her in and polished her up until she emerged gleaming, glittering. Unstoppable.

Whoever said her ascension through the ranks was an easy one had no idea. Not one. The years were marred by unexpected losses, in addition to accumulating a steady amount of injuries; some of which would leave Alis stranded on the sidelines. No one made mention of the mental toll involved in going from Jack to Queen to King, nor the fear in having the hard work fall apart in its final stages. How a poorly timed move could unravel everything achieved so far, leaving no other choice but to start over, with no guarantee of returning to where they’d left off.

The road to Ace hasn’t been pretty. Alis wouldn’t hesitate to vouch for that, pointing to her numerous battle scars as proof of how much she’s had to endure. Plenty has been lost, although just as many has been gained. She isn’t the type to brag of her achievements and prefers to remain humble, biting her tongue against the compliments regarding her fancy ranking.

But she’s done it. Pulled off the impossible, and by God, no one is going to take it away from her that easy.

Not without a damn good fight, at least.

Personality

At first glance, it would be easy to assume Alis Nazarian was anything but the Ace. Often caught in the midst of some farfetched tale that may or may not be true, she’s often regarded as unthreatening by many at The Boxing Club. A complete jackass, in fact, by those closest to her. Her laidback nature, along with her fondness for a good time, tends to distract others from straying too far, and instead encourages them to stay close, just to see what kind of entertainment she’d drag them along to.

The faction and ranking system holds little to no importance to her. Having risen from the bottom herself, Alis doesn’t deem it fair to judge people according to their ranking, and chooses to rely on interactions when determining whether someone is worthy of her attention. She finds grudges utterly draining, petty conflict even more-so; thus, she won’t outwardly express her displeasure towards certain individuals when it’s perceived to be a waste of time and energy.

Saying that, Alis is capable of switching to deadly in an instant. Anyone who’s seen the woman in action is well aware how ruthless she can be when the situation calls for it. Her tolerance for mayhem is high, except if a person has chosen to cross her, time and time again, for the sake of riling her up, she will see to it that they never do so again via a personally delivered and violent message. All because she’s relaxed, doesn’t mean she should be messed with.

Congratulations Bee your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon

Please follow and welcome @alisnaz to Kadeu!

[seekstrivefind]

can i get some jamilton laser tag????

You sure can! Disclaimer: I haven’t played laser tag in 15+ years and I haven’t written Jamilton ever.

Want a Hamilton mini-fic? Prompt me!

Jamilton, laser tag, 1907 words

“Okay, so. Here’s our strategy—”

Alexander’s jaw is set, brow furrowed in determination. He’sgot his vest strapped on, the blocky plastic laser-gun held across his body,and he’s addressing his friends like a general addressing his gathered troops.Lafayette is listening intently. Hercules is shoving John, who’s bouncing onhis toes, eager to get going and barely paying any attention at all.

“—how about ‘lose graciously’?” drawls a familiar voice frombehind Alexander. Alexander scowls. Hercules rolls his eyes and John gives anaudible ‘ugh’. Lafayette’s face lights up as he waves.

“Thomas!” he exclaims cheerfully, and then catches sight ofAlexander’s murderous expression. “Ah, sorry. I forgot; we are enemies.”

Lafayette taps the blue of his vest, and nods towards thered of Thomas’. Alexander lets out a steadying breath, and turns on his heel toface their opponent.

Thomas looks ridiculous. Despite knowing that they would bespending the afternoon running through a darkened room with laser-guns pointedat each other, he’s wearing a button-down and a tie. An actual tie. The veststrapped over the top tapers towards his narrow waist and hips, the laser-gunswings idly from one long finger. His hair is pulled back, something thatAlexander has seen only rarely, and it seems to accentuate the high line of cheekbones,the slender column of elegant neck, and did Alexander say ridiculous?Because he’s not even convincing himself. His scowl deepens.

“Any tips for losing graciously, Jefferson?” he snaps. “Ohno, that’s right—you’ve never done anything graciously a day in your life.”

“Never lost anything, either,” Thomas remarks coolly, oneeyebrow quirking up.

“Dunno, pretty sure you lost big when they were handing outfashion sense,” John pipes up from behind Alexander.

“Oh, you trained your monkey to talk?” Thomas remarks, fauxsurprise colouring his face as he presses his hand to his chest. “You couldmake real money off that little trick. Finally buy yourself a decent suit.”

“Fuck you,” John says, and Alexander hears a brief scufflethat sounds to his experienced ears like John Laurens being held back by oneHercules Mulligan. Thomas takes a step closer, and Alexander remembers to makea conscious effort to untie the knot in his tongue and come up with some wittyrejoinder.

“Yeah, fuck you,” is what he actually manages, which—notexactly his best work. But Thomas is stalking towards him with an almostmesmerising poise, and Alexander’s mouth is suddenly as barren as a desertwasteland. He swallows. It’s distinctly unfair that Thomas—an arrogant,pretentious, privileged son-of-a-bitch determined to put Alexander down to getahead—is also a complete wet dream, like somebody somewhere went down atick-list of Alexander’s desires and then slapped a faulty personality inlast-second.

Makes arguing with him properly real difficult, and this ishardly the first time that Alexander’s been trapped in the confused placebetween anger and arousal.

Thomas extends a finger, and prods Alexander in the chestwith it, leaning down so that they’re face-to-face.

“We all know who’s going to come out on top,” Thomas says witha smile, and Alexander sinks a sharp tooth into the side of his tongue in a determinedattempt not to think too hard about that phrasing. “Might as well cometo terms with it now, Hamilton.”

And then he’s gone, sweeping past them without even a secondlook.

“—well!” Lafayette says brightly before whatever collectionof inventive curse-words John has been stringing together can leave his mouth. “Ifor one am looking forward to this. Let’s go, shall we?”

Alexander, still glowering darkly and trying to calm the jitteringthump of his pulse, follows his friends without a word.

It’s chaos once the buzzer sounds. Any strategy they’d beenrelying on quickly falls apart as grown men and women start sprinting andshrieking, hammering plastic triggers and swearing sharply when their vestsflash to show they’ve been hit. Hercules ducks away without any of the rest ofthem actually noticing him go. John gets hit from behind and takes off with awar cry in pursuit of his attacker, determined on revenge. Lafayette is laughingdelightedly, and it’s not long before Alexander is separated from him, too.

Not that any of it matters. It’s just team-building,a stupid day out with colleagues that they’re forced to endure once a quarter.It’s laser-tag, for God’s sake, it’s for children. Except that the office livesand dies by the winners of the team-building games, and Alexander’s departmentare on a winning streak that he’s determined not to break.

He tucks himself into an empty corner, listening to the mayhemand deciding on his best strategy now that he’s alone. Points-wise, finding agood spot and staying put, sniping his competition as they move around isprobably the most efficient, and judging by the bedlam of the first sixty secondsof the game, they’re going to need all the points they can get.

He ducks out from the corner, advancing down a narrowcorridor, staying low. He hasn’t been hit yet, and that’s a badge of honour initself; a hard one to keep hold of in these games.

Alexander wouldn’t have noticed the branching corridor if anarm hadn’t come out of nowhere, practically clotheslining him before grippingthe strap of his vest and pulling him bodily into it.

“What the f—”

That’s as much as he gets out before there’s a hand clampedover his mouth, and Alexander is blinking rapidly up at the face of ThomasJefferson.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas says flatly. Alexander makes asound that’s close enough to what for, asshole? to be interpreted, and Thomastips his head just as a knot of red-team vests tumble past, whooping andhollering. It’s a long moment before he removes his hand.

“What,” Alexander repeats, tugging on the bottom of his vestto fix it, riding up askew on one side where Thomas had pulled on it, “is yourgame, Jefferson?”

“What, a man can’t do something nice for a colleague?”Thomas asks, and there’s a sharp glint to his smile, preternatural in theglowing blue lights of the course. Alexander narrows his eyes.

“A man? Sure. The devil himself dressed in a person-suit?Not so much.”

Thomas tuts, leaning back against the wall and folding hisarms as Alexander finishes brushing himself off.

“You think so little of me, Hamilton.”

“And every time I think I’ve hit the lower limit, you find away to prove me wrong,” Alexander mutters.

“You think I’m playing an angle?” Thomas asks, apparentlyexamining his fingernails idly, though the low light must make it impossiblefor him to see much other than the vague outline of his hand.

“Obviously,” Alexander retorts. Thomas pushes himself upfrom the wall, and Alexander steps back reflexively as Thomas advances on him oncemore. In this narrow recess, there’s nowhere much to go; he feels his back hitthe wall. Thomas doesn’t stop, not until they’re toe-to-toe.

“Then ask yourself this, Hamilton,” Thomas suggests, leaningone hand on the wall next to Alexander’s face and leaning close. “Why are youstill here?”

There’s a long and laboured silence, tense despite the lowthump of the shitty electronic music that’s being pumped in through too manytinny speakers, cut through by the sound of two dozen adults behaving likekids. Thomas is close enough that Alexander can feel the heat rolling from him,the warm dance of Thomas’ breath against his own lips. Another shift and they’repractically chest-to-chest, and either Alexander is having a delightful aneurysmor Thomas’ knee is pressing between his thighs.

Alexander swallows hard against the tightness in his throat,gaze hooked on Thomas’ own. And he might be imagining the feather-light brushof fingers against his hip or the way that Thomas presses yet another half-inchcloser, but he knows he’s not imagining it when Thomas’ eyes flicker downtowards his parted lips.

“You seem to know everything,” Alexander says, faintly. “Youtell me.”

Thomas kisses him with a slow deliberation that chafesagainst Alexander’s impatience. When he runs his tongue across Alexander’s lipsit’s with unhurried intention. He laughs, a low and curling chuckle thatAlexander feels echo between his ribs, rattling between his lungs, whenAlexander tries to push up against him, to coax something more urgent from him.Thomas won’t be moved, won’t be pushed. He only waits, smiling into Alexander’sfrustration until Alexander is forced to meet Thomas’ terms, to move at Thomas’pace.

Thomas finally licks in behind Alexander’s teeth, suckslightly on Alexander’s tongue, drags teeth against his lower lip, and Alexanderis almost dizzy with want, hands pawing slackly at Thomas’ chest, frustrated bythe bulk of the vest that means he can’t feel the smooth curve of muscle thathe knows hides underneath.

“You lose, Hamilton,” Thomas murmurs against Alexander’slips, half pulling back. Alexander chases the kiss, freezing when he feelssomething jammed against his chest. He hears the descending bleep, sees theflashing of his vest as it illuminates Jefferson’s predatory smile. “Again.”

Alexander looks down in disbelief at the laser-gun pressedagainst his chest, and then back up at Thomas.

“You absolute fucking cu—”

“—ah, ah,” Thomas says disapprovingly, presses his lips againstAlexander’s once more to cut off the obscenity. Alexander tries to bite down,to drag sharp teeth against Thomas’ lip, but he’s already pulling back, a lookof smug satisfaction on his face. “What I did tell you about losing gracefully?”

And then Thomas is gone, and Alexander stands there, utterlyenraged and hopelessly turned on, heart jack-rabbiting in the cage of his chestand laser-gun hanging loosely by his side.

Once the lights come back up, Alexander finds the others inthe lobby. John is wild-eyed, bordering on the manic. At some point, his hairhas come loose and his curls are splayed wide around his face, a mess of darkhair that Lafayette is laughing fondly over, doing his best to finger-comb itinto some semblance of order.

“Why the long face?” Hercules asks as Alexander approaches,knocking a punch against his shoulder that rocks Alexander onto one foot for abrief second. Alexander glances at the screen, where the team scores are yet tobe listed. It flickers to display individual high scores, and John whoops whenhis name appears at the top, punching both fists up into the air.

“I am amazed he did not get hurt,” Lafayette laughinglytells Alexander. “He was running wild; shooting people point blank. Like Rambo.”

“I wish they’d let you have two guns,” John says, mournfully.

“Hey, man,” Hercules says, pointing up at the screen wherethe teams have been ranked in order. “We won!”

There’s assorted whoops and groans throughout the room as people,breathless and sweating, celebrate victories or bemoan defeat. Money changeshands, as is common. Alexander catches sight of Thomas, vest and gun alreadyabandoned, talking to Madison. He notices Alexander, and grins widely, closingone eye and stretching out an arm to aim one finger like a gun right atAlexander’s chest.

“I’m not so sure,” he mutters to himself under his breath,and then deliberately turns his back to Thomas to watch John slap Lafayette’shands away from his hair.

“Celebrations are in order!” John proclaims. “Let’s get wasted.”

And yeah. Yeah, Alexander can get behind that plan.

[all1e23]

Swallow [Pt.3]

Chapter: Scorched Hearts

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Old feelings can burn you no matter how deep they are buried. 

Warnings:  Possessive Bucky. Protective Clint. Protective Steve. Angst. Bucky being soft and a little bit of a jerk. He’s a jerk, but a soft jerk.  

A/N:   The long awaited chapter! Sorry, this took so long, but it’s finally here. Not a whole lot of happiness in this chapter, but I hope you still like! Send me love??? 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!*

Last night had not gone as anyone had hoped it would. 

Clint assumed getting you and Bucky in the same room would have led to some type of resolution, some sort of admission of love or hate. At this point he would take either, he was so tired of seeing you hurt. After you spent the night avoiding Bucky and then bolted out the front door without so much as a goodbye, Clint realized his usual ‘meddling brother’ antics weren’t going to work.

It wasn’t just Clint that was disappointed with how the night played out. Bucky had been confident it would only take seeing each other once to get the two of you on the road to recovery. That the pull between the two of you was still as strong as ever and you wouldn’t need more than one night to realize all the mistakes you both made. He would apologize and everything would right as rain.

Just like always.

This time was different though, and it wasn’t going to be like before.

Before you showed up that night, Natasha had tried to warn him it wouldn’t be that simple. Not with everything the two of you went through and not after the way you ran, determined to get as far away from him as you could. There wasn’t going to be an easy fix this time around. It wasn’t as if you fought over some run he had to go on or missing a date because of club business. If he wanted you back, it would take more than honeyed whispers in your ear.

Knowing all of that, a part of him still hoped when you finally laid eyes on him again, there would have been some indication that you loved him the way he loved you. All he saw was your naked wrist and all the pain you were trying so desperately to hide from him. You’ve never had to hide from him before, and he didn’t want you to start now.

The only person who knew exactly how last night was going to play out, was you. You knew your night was going to end in whiskey and tears the second you laid eyes on him. The headache and nausea you were feeling this morning were a result of not listening to your gut and staying as far away from the club and Bucky Barnes as you could.

Clint eyed you, humor dancing in his baby blues and a soft chuckle slipping from his lips as you stumbled out of your bedroom towards the coffee pot. You glared at him as you poured yourself a cup and attempted to smooth your hair down with your free hand. 

“Shut up, or I will disown you, brother.”

The loud rumble of a bike grew louder and came to a stop, from the sounds of it they stopped in your driveway. You quirked a brow at your brother who gave you a tentative smile as he set his own coffee cup down.

“I think this one’s for you.” He quipped.

“Me?” You asked. “What do you mean for me?”

“I don’t know, sis.” He replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe something to do with drinking and driving, something like that might piss some people off.” He was still upset about last night, and you were guessing whoever was at the door was too.

You narrowed your eyes at him as a heavy-handed fist rapped against the front door. Clint walked towards the front door, and your eyes fell to your wrist, your tattoo was out in the open this morning, you quickly tugged the sleeves of Clint’s hoodie down and crossed your arms over your chest, grimacing at the state of you. Black leggings and an old Barnes Mechanics hoodie. That will make him regret leaving you. You had set your cup down on the counter and looked up right as Bucky stepped into the house and your heart stuttered just from the sight of him.

Stupid heart.

There were a few seconds of shared whispered between the two men and Bucky even chuckled at something Clint said, but you knew it was forced. You knew him better than anyone. Maybe even better than Steve.

Some parts of you are only meant to be seen by the other half of your heart.

His eyes landed you, and Bucky patted Clint’s shoulder on the blonds' way onto the porch. He stepped around Clint and heading straight towards you as he pulled his gloves off. Bucky always looked good but the way his black jeans were hanging low on his hips, his leather zipped tight around his chest. It was making your body tremble with want, you leaned back against the counter kitchen counter to keep yourself steady.

By the look in his eyes, Bucky wasn’t there because he was happy to see you -- this wouldn’t be a friendly visit.

“To what do I owe the honor of your presence this early morning, vice president?” The venom lacing your words would have cut him, deeply, but he was too pissed to be stung by your callous words. The second he saw you storming out of the clubhouse, Bucky had tried calling you. He spent the rest of his night trying to get you to answer your phone. Clint had tried. Natasha had tried. You refused to answer anyone and when Clint finally got fed up and came home to check on your you were passed out next to a bottle of Jack.

Bucky wasn’t too happy with you this morning.

“What the hell are you doing driving drunk?” Bucky asked, ignoring your dig at his patch. The very same patch he took for you, not that you knew that and maybe you didn’t even care. 

“You know better than to drink and drive. If you’re gonna drink, I could have taken you home. Or Peter. Or Tony. How about your brother? Forget about Clint?”

“Oh, for Christ's sake.” You grumbled under your breath. “I wasn’t drunk. I had two shots. I’ve watched you drink a hell of a lot more and drive your bike. With me on the back might I add.”

“That’s different!” Bucky shouted. “I know you're safe then! I called you probably fifty times  to make sure you were okay, and you wouldn’t answer your damn phone, Y/n!”

“Of course I didn’t answer! I’m not yours!” You shouted back. “You don’t get to come in here and yell at me because something didn’t go your way. If you wanted a say in my life, you shouldn’t have pushed me away!”

Bucky’s mouth set in a thin line and you knew he was holding back, there was something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t going to say it while Clint was on the front porch possibly listening to every word that the two of you were spewing at each other. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. Bucky needed to calm down. This wasn’t going to be the way he won you back, and he knew that.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Y/n.” He conceded, observing you. Looking for any hint at what you’re feeling.

“Then what are doing here?”

“You left yesterday because…” He sighed and stepped closer to you, shifting from one foot to the other. He wasn’t sure if he should just blurt it out or be delicate. He was having a hard time reading you, and he hated it. He’s never had that problem before. He’s always known what you were thinking, how to talk to you and since you’ve been home, everything has been different.

You’ve been different.

“What’s the matter? Hard to say it to my face?” You asked, jealousy souring your words. “Guess it’s easier when she’s curled up on your lap, and you can’t see my face because your head is buried in her tits, huh?” You could hear how jealous you sounded the more you went on and judging by the smirk on Bucky’s face he heard it too.

Dumb handsome jerk!

“If you would have stuck around instead of letting your jealousy get the best of you, you would have witnessed me pushed her off my lap.” He leaned forward closing the small distance that separated you and bumped his nose against yours, whispering. “I’ve got no interest in anyone curling up on my lap but you, pretty girl.”

“Sure have a funny way of showing it.” You murmured back, voice cracking as you placed your hand on his leather-covered chest.

“Give me a break!” Bucky groaned and took a step back from you, giving you the space you wanted. “I was a kid, and you were asking a lot of a twenty-two-year-old that was just handed a shit ton of responsibility overnight.”

“You asked first if I recall.” You blew out a shaky breath and met his eyes. “Doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“It sure as hell does matter! You’re still hurt and I--” He stopped himself, reminding himself to calm down before he said something he was going to regret. His nerves were getting the best of him again. That’s the way it’s always been with you. The more time he spends wrapped up in you, the more he begins to unravel. How was he supposed to make you see how sorry he was, how right you were for each other if you kept looking at him like you that?

As if you wanted to be around anyone, anything but him. 

“I don’t wanna talk about the damn club girl. I’m not interested in her. I’m only interested in you and how to fix us. How to get you back.” He reached out and grabbed your arm tugging you back against him. 

“You really need me to say it?” He asked in a soft whisper.

You were so close to him you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. You shrug slightly in response, not sure if you wanted to hear what he was about to say or not.

His forehead rested against yours anchoring himself in your eyes and trying to gather some semblance of strength. It didn’t use to be this hard to talk to you, but after everything, it seemed some things were going to take longer to restore.

“You’re still my swallow, pretty girl.” He breathed, his eyes locked on yours, glimmering with his nerves. “I should’ve run after you. I was a fuckin’ dumbass, baby. I knew it was a mistake the second you walked out of the door, but I was a stubborn dick. I thought I was doing what was right by you.”

“What does that mean? Doing right by me?” You asked, confused. That didn’t make any sense at all. How could hurting you the way he did have been doing what was right by you?

“I--” Bucky froze. Regret filling his features as he realized what he let slip. He didn’t want to get into that now. He couldn’t tell you like this, not when Clint was hanging around and who knew where Natasha was spying from. 

“We can talk about that another day, babydoll.”  Of course, you could. After he had time to fabricate some pathetic tale to try and trick you into forgiving him. There was nothing to talk about, and you knew that. You shook your head and took a step back from him forcing his hands off of you.

It was all just sweet words and utter bullshit.

“You know, I think my schedule is fully booked. I won’t have the time. You should take that little girl of yours out and tell her all your lies. She looked like a good time. I especially liked the ‘biker slut’ stamped on her lower back. Your daddy would be so proud of you.”  You hated what everything you were saying. The thought of him touching someone else made you sick but you were angry and hurt, and it fell out of your mouth without a second thought. The flash anger that filled Bucky’s eyes let you know you went too far, bringing his dad into this stupid, pointless fight pushed Bucky over the edge and right into pissed off.

Bucky nodded towards your sweater covered wrist, hiding the pain behind his anger, he snapped. “Since you removed your tattoo I guess I’m free to do what I want, huh? Maybe I will. I wonder what her ass would look like with a swallow on it.” 

Silence filled the house as his words hung in the air and settled over both of you. He wanted to take it back. God, did he want to take it back the moment he said it but seeing those tears in your eyes? That was too much for him to take. Damn, he hated making you cry, and it’s happened more often than he would like to admit.

“Y/n--”

“I’m sure you two will be really happy together.” You stuttered as tears spilled over onto your cheeks. “I hope she handles your bullshit better than I could.”

“Darlin’.” He reached out for your wrist, but you pulled away before he ever got close to touching you and he sighed. “You know I didn’t mean that. No one else--”

“Please just leave, James.” You mumbled, bottom lip trembling as you tried to hold back your tears, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of knowing he can still make you cry after all this time.

James. It was like ice in his veins. He hated the way it sounded on your lips. It sounded wrong, and he would do just about anything to take the pain and anger out of your voice. There was no chance to fix what he had done, to apologize. You were gone, hiding away in your room before he could blink.  

“Fuck me.” He groaned as he bounded out of the house, avoiding eye contact with Clint on his way out the door. Bucky knew he heard everything that was said the second he saw how tense Clint was leaning against the porch railing. Clint crossed his arms over his chest as Bucky stomped down the front steps towards his bike.

“Way to fuckin’ go man. That how you won her over the first time?” He called after him, his voice was light and full of snark, but Bucky could hear the malice under all of it.

“Shut it, Clint.” He snapped, slipping his gloves on and straddling his bike. He took a chance and looked up to meet Clint’s eyes. He ignored the angry dwelling in them and nodding towards the house. “Go check on her, please. I-- make sure she knows I didn’t mean it. There’s never been anyone but her. Never will be anyone but her.”

Clint’s eyes softened, only a fraction but they did soften.“Yeah, I know man. Everyone knows it’s only ever been Y/n.” He eyed the brunet and finally asked the question everyone has been thinking since you came home. “You thinkin’ she can save your broken ass?”

“She’s the only one that can save me, Clint,” Bucky replied instantly. No hesitation, because he knew without a doubt it was true. He didn’t need to think about it. You were the only one that could bring him back from the shell of a man he’s become. 

“Listen, I’ll see you at chapel in a few hours. Steve wants everyone in. We’ve got some shit to talk about.” His wrist flexed slightly, and the bike roared to life under him, ending the interrogation Clint had started only a moment ago.

“Buck?” Clint shouted over the rumble of his bike, waiting till he got the taller man's attention before continuing. “You make her cry like that again, and you and I are gonna have a problem. I won’t be bringing it to the table. We clear?”

He gave a curt nod and pulled out of the driveway without another word. He had no intention of making you cry again, threat or not.

“Bug?” Clint knocked on your door and slowly nudged it open, not waiting for an answer. He had planned on asking if it was okay to come in, making sure you even wanted company, but the second he saw you laying on your bed with tears streaming down your face, he didn’t care if you wanted him there or not. He was by your side in a flash and collapsed next to you in bed, pulling you into his arms and letting you hide your tears in his shirt.

“It’s okay, bug.” He cooed softly in your ear. “I’m right here. Let it all out. It’s gonna be okay.”

“He asked me you know? Five years ago he asked me and now look at us.” Your voice was already hoarse from how raw your throat had gotten, and it only made Clint’s urge to beat Bucky into the ground that much stronger. It took a lot for him to keep his voice neutral, if you thought he was upset with Bucky, it would only add to what you were feeling -- and truthfully, he was worried you would run again. That was the last thing Clint wanted. 

He could keep his anger in check for you.

“Asked you what bug?” He pushed gently after you fell silent. He wasn’t sure what you were mumbling through all your tears, but you certainly had his attention. 

You sniffled, stuttered and sucked in a trembling breath as you attempted to calm yourself enough to answer. Every time you thought you were relaxed enough to answer another wave of sadness would rush over you, your mind racing to thoughts of who Bucky was with and where he went when he drove off, leaving you behind once again.  You choked out another soft sob hiding your face in Clint’s shirt, trying your best to avoid crying all over his leather.

He wouldn’t care if you did, he only wanted to help and if that meant ruining his leather then so be it.

“Talk to me, Y/n,” Clint begged as your silent sobs continued. “I’m freaking out here. I want to help, but I don’t know how, sis.” 

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tightened your hold on the fabric that was twisted in your fist, stretching and wrinkling his shirt. It took a few more minutes of stuttering breaths before you were able to stop your tears and put yourself in the right headspace to answer him.

“Right-- right before dad died Bucky asked me to marry him. He told me to take the weekend to think about it because it would be a big deal, being married to the club president and then the accident happened--” You blew out a shaky breath and wiped the few stray tears away.

“--And, well, here we are.”

Clint closed his eyes and leaned his cheek on top of your head. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but he was right to give you time to think bug. You just lost dad, and Buck just took over the club a few months before that. I’m guessing he didn’t like that you said no? Is that why you left? He gave you ‘it’s all or nothin’’ speech, and you ran?”

Oh, how you wished that was how it all happened.

“I said yes.” You whispered so softly Clint wasn’t even sure he heard you right, but the second he saw those tears returning and spilling over onto your cheeks he knew he had. You had said yes to marrying Bucky. That didn’t help explain what happened, it only added to his confusion.

“You said yes? Then why did you leave? Did he -- did he sleep with one of the girls or something?” Clint’s brain was going a thousand miles a minute. He was replaying that night in his head. You were clinging to Buck all night like you had since your dad died. Then you two disappeared. Next thing he knew you had taken off with Nat and Steve sent Clint home to check on you. You could have easily caught him with someone else before you had a chance to tell him yes.

“He’s never cheated on me. Bucky wouldn’t cheat on me.” 

Clint blew out a breath and tightened his arms around you as the tension eased out of him. He loved Buck like a brother so it would be a shame if he had to beat the life out of him for cheating on his sister.

“What happened, bug? Did you change your mind after dad?”

You shook your head. It wasn’t the whole story. It was enough for now, and you were too tired to talk anymore today.

--------

Natasha somehow managed to calm Clint down before he went to meet the club for chapel. You hadn’t been in the room, but you had heard her soft, soothing whispers, telling him to calm down and remember that mistakes were made by more than one person and Bucky wasn’t entirely at fault. You weren’t sure if she was referring to you or to Steve, but either way, it didn’t matter who she was blaming. She was right. The things you did, the choices you made that night, all of it was worse than what Bucky did. You let your anger and your pride rule your decisions, and it left you alone and heartbroken.

If you had just taken a few minutes to really think about things and the consequences of your actions, maybe you could have fixed things before they spiraled out of control. Perhaps you wouldn’t have lost Bucky entirely if you had just talked to him instead of listening to all those prideful whispers in your head. 

Placing blame and pointing fingers was pointless now and it wouldn’t have made a difference who was more at fault. None of that would change the outcome. It looked as if the two of you were destined to end up here, broken and in love with a reality neither of you could have.

You had spent the afternoon sulking in your room when Natasha had stormed up, yanked you up out of bed and handed you a list of things they needed from the market. She had to get to the club and Clint was out of coffee, if that wasn’t rectified by morning, there would be chaos in the Barton house. You had a feeling Natasha was only forcing you out of the house in an attempt to stop your moping.

It sorta worked not that you would ever tell her that. You had picked up several bottles of wine, grabbed Clint’s coffee and were now staring at the stacks and stacks of baked goods in the bakery. Maybe some chocolate treats will keep Clint calm and prevent him from killing the man you love. Or, loved? Whatever he was to you at that moment.

“Hey.” A deep voice called out to you from across the pile of brownies, stopping your internal debate over fudge covered brownies or cookies and cream, you glanced up and found Eddie Brock smiling at you over the stack of baked goods, no leather this time, but he still looked handsome.

“Y/n, right?” He asked, charming grin in full effect.

“Yeah, Y/n.” 

You gave him a small smile in return and gestured to your own face, referencing his split lip and busted nose. You winced when you noticed the deep bruising around his nose and just how deep the cut on his lip was. Bucky had not held back in the slightest by the looks of things. 

“I’m sorry about that. I feel like that’s kinda my fault.” You confessed softly. He chuckled and shrugged it off as if it was nothing that his nose probably needed to be reset thanks to her overprotective boyfriend-- or, ex-boyfriend. 

“It’s okay.” He said, sporting an easy smile. “I should have known someone as pretty as you wouldn’t be single. Of course, your old man had to be the crazy hothead of the group. Just my luck.”

What is with bikers, hm? Did they all think these stupid lines turned women into a whimpering mess? There was only one man that could turn you into a whimpering mess, and he certainly didn’t need to use a cheesy line to do so.

Still, this one was kind of cute. He was no James Barnes but he was cute.

“He’s not actually mine.” Eddie raised his brow, and you shrugged in response. “It’s a long story, but you should know I’m not really available either.” 

Because your heart belonged to someone else even if you didn’t want to admit that out loud and that was not something he needs to know. The fact of the matter was, Bucky still very much occupied your head and your heart. There wasn’t room for anyone else, no matter how cute. 

“If it hadn’t of been Buck, my brother would have kicked your ass.”

“Damn. The blonde with the purple bike right?” You nodded, and he grinned playfully as he flexed for you. “I’m pretty tough. You’re counting me out that easy? You think he could kick my ass?”

“I mean, yeah.” You grinned. “My brother is a badass. How do you think I got to be this amazing?”

He dropped his arm and leaned over the table, cocky grin curling up the edge of his lips and whispering only loud enough for you and the baked goods to hear, “Pretty sure you got there on your own. No man helped you get where you are.”

And, that was the first time your heart had flipped for someone that wasn’t Bucky Barnes. You weren’t sure how you felt about that, but you weren’t given a chance to linger on the thought for long.

“Y/n.” Steve’s sharp voice cut through the air and silenced the conversation. He walked over to stand next to you and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Eddie.” He narrowed his eyes at the shorter man. “I think it’s time you move along. She’s spoken for.” 

You meet Eddie’s eyes, your apology was written in them along with an ‘i told you so.’

Eddie’s eyes flicked from yours back to Steve’s, and you knew he was about to say something stupid. “I think she can make her own decisions, Rogers. We aren’t in your clubhouse. You don’t have jurisdiction here.”

You winced at his choice of words. Yep. Something stupid.

That wasn’t going to go over well at all. Steve dropped his arms and pushed you behind him as if he was protecting you from something, he leaned over the stack of packaged muffins and brownies glaring hard at the other man. “Leave. Now.” He growled. “Stay away from Y/n. If I see you around her again, I’ll show you just how far my jurisdiction goes.”

Thankfully Eddie had the good sense to shut his mouth and walk away. No one wanted to cause a scene in the middle of the market. Might have had something to do with that fact that there were three other club members parked right outside ready to jump up and stand by their president’s side.

Odds weren’t exactly in Eddie’s favor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve snipped at you once they were alone. He must have lost in damn mind in the last five years if Steve thought he could talk to you like you’re just another club girl. He knew better.

“Excuse me?” You snapped back and lifted up your basket full of food. “I was trying to buy some chocolate chip muffins and brownies because Clint can’t eat anything healthy, but apparently I can’t get away from asshole bikers no matter where I go.”

He looked like he was about to yell at you, but you stepped forward, lowering your voice, “I’d watch what you’re about to say, Steven Grant.” He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, anger flashed in his eyes for just a second before they settled back to their standard, calmer blue.

“Did you forget the rules? What’s expected of you?” He asked, tone gentler than it had been a moment ago, but it was the meaning behind the words, not the tone. You narrowed your eyes at the man before you. He wasn’t Steve right now, he was the club president, and you had no patience for the MC president. 

“No. I haven’t forgotten. I’m not trying to date anyone let alone date another biker.” You hissed back at him. “I haven’t forgotten anything, Steven. Have you forgotten? Or are you just planning on hiding your bullshit lies from everyone, Bucky included?”

“Y/n--” He sighed, and his whole frame softened as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s more complicated than you realize and you won’t fully understand until you talk to Buck. Actually, sit down and talk to him.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had told you to talk to Bucky since you’ve been home and frankly, you were done with all the secrets and all the bullshit. What the hell was everyone talking about? How could it more complicated than it already was?

“Why don’t you come by and at least listen to him.” Steve nudged you with a sly grin on his face.“Clint said your car was acting up, the guys can work on it for free and the two of you can talk. Clear the air.”

“With everyone watching? No thanks.”

“Well...” He bent down and whispered, “You could let Buck take you for a ride. I know how much you like being on the back of his bike.” Steve grinned as your eyes went wide and you shifted your feet nervously. 

“Pretty sure he missed it more.” Added Steve at sight of your nerves.

You had missed it. A lot. More than the bike you just missed being close to Bucky like that, being able to wrap your arms around him as tight as you wanted, the way you could nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, and slip one hand into his open shirt so it could rest against his skin right over his heart.  

Despite how much your heart ached to go back and have all of that again, you weren’t sure that was even an option anymore. Especially after this morning.

“Look, I’ll think about it okay?” You said as you punched his arm lightly. “But you can’t just scare away every man that dares to talk to me. He was only being friendly, and it’s kind of my fault he’s going to need some rhinoplasty.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “Bucky would disagree with you. Stay away from Eddie Brock.” He ordered, going serious again. “He’s not a good guy like you think he is and we both know if Buck had seen you two talking, it wouldn’t have ended so civilly.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

“I’ll make sure the club girls are gone this time.” He said with that dumb know it all smirk.

“Jesus.” You breathed in annoyance. “Don’t you two have a club to run instead of spending your days gossiping? Does he tell you everything?”

Steve’s grin widened as he walked past her towards the registers. “Oh,” He shouted back at you. “Nice tattoo.”

You look down at your wrist at the completely visible swallow, flashing like a neon sign on your wrist. You close your eyes at the sound of Steve’s deep chuckle. “Talk to him, Y/n. What the two of you had doesn’t simply go away because you ran away, and I think we both know that.”  

Steve was a giant jerk, you’ve officially decided. A giant jerky jerk face. You had no idea why you ever liked him. You open eyes and look back down at the swallow on your wrist. You would never admit it to his smug face, but Steve was right. Feelings like yours don’t just vanish because you begged and pleaded with your heart.

Five years was long enough.

It was time to clear the air and put all of this behind you.

You both deserved the truth, and you were going to get it out of him if it killed you.

Previous // Next

[captainstressed]

By Your Side

a/n: hello! so this is my first official attempt at a Stargate piece, hopefully I didn’t butcher the characters too bad and I hope y’all enjoy!

Fandom: Stargate SG1 Pairing: Sam Carter/Daniel Jackson Rating: K+ Genre: Friendship/Romance Word count: 1,813 Summary: Post Season 1 Episode 15 ‘Singularity’

-

Sometimes I forget you’re not military.

-

Maybe that’s why she found herself standing outside Daniel’s apartment at such a late hour, or the excuse she would give if her actions were questioned. It wasn’t like she could show up on the Colonel’s doorstep in the middle of the night, aside from being highly inappropriate given their positions he also just wouldn’t understand.

She knew it was late, and she knew she probably should have called ahead first to make sure he was even ok with her just showing up but she was still in a spin after the events of the last few days.

Cassandra was fine, Janet had opened her home to the young girl indefinitely once they had determined the bomb inside her was no longer present. Sam had accompanied them both back to Janet’s in order to help Cassandra get settled and had hung around for a few hours before promising to check in the next day. She had left under the pretence of going home and getting some rest but had quickly changed direction at the prospect of going back to her empty home with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company. Said thought process was why she had found herself outside of her friends apartment at just shy of eleven thirty at night.

Before she could stop herself, Sam raised a hand and knocked lightly on his door. She decided to give him a few moments to answer before leaving, she wouldn’t knock again and a small part of her hoped he wouldn’t answer so she could take it as a sign and convince herself it had been a bad idea after all.

He did answer however, stood in a t shirt and a pair of sweats, Daniel had a look of mild confusion on his face before quickly recovering and offering Sam a smile.

“Hey Sam.”

She didn’t look him in the eye but caught sight of his attire and instantly felt awkwardness fill the air, what was she even doing here? Daniel was her friend sure, but were they close enough that she could just show up at his place unannounced late at night? Maybe not so much.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His soft voice cut through her thoughts and that’s when Sam realised she had just knocked on his door and proceeded to stare at him instead of saying anything when he answered, finally looking at him properly she gave a small nod. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say in regards to why she was there but she figured any kind of conversation was better had inside than in the hallway of his apartment building.

Daniel opened his door wider and stepped aside to let Sam pass, he had considered calling her to check in, but he knew she was helping Cassandra get settled at Janet’s place and didn’t want to stick his nose in where it potentially wasn’t wanted. Her turning up at his apartment however had quashed some of his worries about her not wanting his help.

“I’m sorry for just showing up like this, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

The awkwardness was back as she crossed the threshold, Daniel closed the door behind her and she turned to face him.

“You didn’t, I was actually just doing a bit of reading.”

He assured and she finally smiled, his face always lit up when he spoke about nerd stuff as Jack liked to call it.

“How’s Cassandra?”

His question caused her smile to falter, the mention of the young girl flooded Sam’s mind with memories of the past few days. She was fine, they all were, but it didn’t change what had happened and what had nearly happened. She had just about been able to hold herself together aside from her moment in the elevator and the last thing she wanted was to show up at Daniel’s place and then cry all over him.

“She’s.. fine.”

She answered after a pause and Daniel nodded, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. 

“It’ll take her a while to adjust to being here on Earth but Doctor Fraiser’s already smitten, she’s been through a lot but she’s a good kid.”

With another nod, Daniel gave her a soft smile. He didn’t need to ask Sam how she was doing, it had been a tough few days for them all but she and Cassie had formed a special bond from the get go and he couldn’t begin to imagine the toll this all had taken on her. It was then he realised they were still standing by his door and mentally chastised himself for being a rude host.

“Would you like something to drink?”

He asked, gesturing for her to head further into his apartment.

Sam briefly considered asking if he had anything alcoholic but they both had work the next morning and with her mind already in a spin, she wasn’t sure alcohol would be the best choice.

“Water’s fine, thanks.”

She told him with a small smile as she headed on through towards his kitchen with him in tow. She’d been to his place before on a few occasions but that had been with Teal’c and the Colonel when they’d had time for a rare team evening, it had never been just the two of them.

Daniel busied himself with grabbing glasses from the cabinet whilst Sam stood across from him, wondering what direction their conversation would take next. She still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d decided to stop by Daniel’s place after leaving Janet’s, she didn’t really wanna talk about the days events but she also hadn’t wanted to head home alone and deal with her own thoughts.

“I was going to call you actually.”

He mentioned casually, glancing over to gauge her reaction whilst he filled two glasses up with water from the tap.

“You were?”

She sounded genuinely surprised and he nodded.

“I meant what I said before Sam, you don’t have to do this alone.”

At the time she had assumed he was simply referring to taking care of Cassandra. He offered her a glass and she took it with a grateful smile. They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few moments after that, both simply enjoying the others company and giving Sam time to mull over the revelation.

They shared a glance, both knowing what they wanted but unsure of whether the other wanted it too. Eventually it was Sam who made the first move, perhaps it was the adrenaline still racing through her from almost dying but in that moment all she wanted was him. Setting her glass down on the counter beside her she closed the remaining distance between them, bracing herself with a hand against his chest she pressed her lips to his. It was chaste and over as quick as it had started but when she made to move away, Daniel brought a hand to her cheek and drew her in for another kiss.

Both allowed themselves to get lost in the moment, Sam moved her hands to his waist, fingers gently fisting the material of his shirt as his free hand cupped her other cheek. It was soft, and gentle, and so Daniel.

He loved Sha’re but he couldn’t deny his growing feelings towards Sam. His determination to find his wife had never wavered and he wouldn’t give up no matter how long it took and regardless of his feelings for another.

They had become fast friends since meeting during her trip to Abydos with Jack and the others, she wished it had been under better circumstances but since he had joined SG-1 in hopes of finding his wife, they had all become a bit of a family of sorts. A pretty dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. Working for the military as long as she had, Sam was well aware that relationships were against regulations, but like she had been reminded of earlier that day, Daniel wasn’t military. That’s not to say she wanted a relationship with him, for a start he was married, but it was a comfort to her to know that they could have something between them if they so wished it, without serious repercussions.

Finally parting, they remained close. The moment Daniel had realised that Sam wasn’t joining them back on the surface replayed in his mind along with the fear and dread he had felt, brushing a hand down her arm he took one of her hands and gave it a soft squeeze.

“I thought I’d lost you back there, at the facility.”

With a small sigh, Sam lowered her gaze.

“I couldn’t leave her Daniel.”

She repeated the words she’d told the Colonel before, it made her feel sick to think she had nearly left Cassandra in that cold and damp basement at the nuclear facility all by herself. She had only turned back because of her last minute realisation that the bomb possibly wouldn’t detonate after all and she didn’t dare consider how she would have felt had things turned out differently.

“No, I know, I just, I’m really glad you’re ok, both of you.”

His relief upon hearing her voice over the com had been palpable, he knew the risk their jobs entailed but each time they managed to get through another mission he sent a silent prayer to whoever or whatever god was watching over them.

“I should probably go, it’s late.”

He considered asking her to stay, his guest room was set up for any impromptu team nights otherwise his bed was also rather comfortable if he did say so himself. It had been an overwhelming few days for them both however, Sam was upset and he didn’t want them to let their emotions get the better of them and do something they would later regret.

With a nod he took a small step back, if he had any intention of following his better judgement then he needed to put some space between them. He still had her hand in his however and he gave it another gentle squeeze before letting go.

She dismissed the small pang of disappointment she felt when he didn’t ask her to stay, it hadn’t been her intention for anything like this to happen when she’d made the decision to stop by and knew they were doing the right thing by stopping before they passed the point of no return.

He took lead and she followed him back through his apartment to the door, he opened it for her and she silently stepped over the threshold before turning back to him with a smile.

“See you tomorrow?”

She knew she would but the question held a deeper meaning and he knew it. A smile crossed his lips and he gave her another nod.

“See you tomorrow.”

[deniigi]

i was reading "it's fine, we're fine" again because i am a big softy and i love jack with my whole damn heart and i was wondering if rudy ever surfaces in matt's life again?

he does!!!

All of the boxers stay in Matt’s life for as long as they can! In another fic which I never published, Rudy explains that he tried to adopt Matt after Jack died, since they were best friends and Matt was already really close to Rudy’s girls, but social services wasn’t down to let that happen.

That said!!

I also wrote a piece a while back that didn’t quite make it into the Sprawl but which shows Matt’s relationships with Jack’s old friends from the gym. I’m putting it here under the cut (sorry mobile users, it’s pretty long)

Written from Jack’s pov

—-

Prelim title: put em up

He hadn’t seen the guys since he died, and honestly he’d avoided heading in the direction of Fogwell’s out of both fear and a strong self-preservation instinct. He only had a year. And Matt was hellbent on getting himself murdered during it, so Jack had to keep himself together to arrange their double funeral.

He finally sucked it up watching Matt mope in multiple different shapes and forms all over the furniture in his living room. The last straw was him cuddling up to Tuesday to inform her of how unfair Jack was being.

Not letting him out face-smashing with two fractured ribs.

Oh, the humanity.

What a shit father he was.

Tuesday sneezed on Matt and then stood up to leave him to suffer and to sniff at Jack’s ankles. Abandoned, Matt moved on to making loud, drawn-out noises about how everyone in his life betrayed him.

“Alright, fine. Get your gloves,” Jack sighed.

Matt was gone from the living room before he’d even finished the sentence.

It was one thing to like, know that your kid was a superhuman. But it was a whole other thing to live with it. He would never get used to the silent sneaking. Or the ‘I can heart your heart beat’ thing. Or the determination to be gutted. That one, even the afterlife wouldn’t help him with.

He’d just barely stood up from giving Tuesday the requisite pets when Matt was back in his face with gloves, rattling. Just a teeny bit little excited.

“Hurry up.”

Wo-ho. Not with that attitude.

“Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.”

Wow, look. Another dish to clean.

“DAD.”

Alright, alright. Take a chill pill, kid.

 Fridays were usually slow days at the gym since most guys had dates to be on and family nights to have and so Jack thought that he might escape this interaction mostly unscathed and unnoticed. He was just there to help the blind guy, he’d say if anyone asked. He looked far too young to be Matt’s father at this point, they looked more like brothers. With the exception of Matt looking painfully like his mama to Jack. He’d never not see Grace in this boy. It was all in that slim jaw. He grabbed it and shook it every now and then to piss Matt off and it did the trick on a dime.

Matt was a regular at Fogwell’s. Jack wasn’t surprised. It had always been his second home. He was known by most of the guys there as the blind guy who apparently crammed in his headphones and punched a bag ‘til he couldn’t anymore. Fogwell let him use the place when he wasn’t there. Under the ruse of Matt feeling self-conscious about boxing in front of sighted-people.

Really, he just wanted to throw ridiculous moves at the bag.

This time, there would be no ridiculous moves. There were ribs to consider. Matt practically hung off his elbow in disappointment.

This fuckin’ kid. Ain’t got the sense god gave a goat.

They walked in the door and Jack never stood a chance.

  Folks had heard about the incident, it had been on the news, it turned out. Load of highly suspicious graves dug up in cemeteries all over the damn city. Fischer hadn’t exactly been subtle. What wasn’t quite clear to people was who these zombies were until anyone who happened to recognize those particular graves saw them.

Obviously half the gym had remembered Jack’s fucked up, now cracked headstone.

(It was nice. Grace had taken him to see it so that he could have a say in the next one. She waved at it in many different kinds of ways and called him a basic bitch without using either of those words.)

Jack couldn’t help but wonder now if Matt had texted someone to let them know they were coming.

Because he couldn’t breathe.

Rudy smelled like ass.

“Twenty fuckin’ years, man, and you still ain’t seen a shower?” he creaked out against his pal’s sweaty shoulder.

Rudy yanked him back by the shoulders to get a good look at him, blinking tears out of his eyes. He was so bald. He’d never had much hair to begin with, Rudy. But now, he was like one of them fortune-tellers’ glass balls.

“Jackie, we missed you so much,” the guy said like he was garbling glass.

“Good to—”

Well, that was him done. He didn’t need shoulders.

“Bert, you maniac, lay off,” Rudy snarled, as hot-tempered as ever.

Bert? This motherfucker was Bert?

Jack ducked out of the arms and recoiled back to get a good look at the moron and sure enough. Man.

“You finally shaved that thing off your face,” he said.

Bert was huge. Moustache was gone, though. That was literally all the mattered. Bert would never be pretty, but the pornstache had been a lot, even for them.

Bert cackled in delight.

“Look at you, Jack, ain’t a day over—uh. How old’re you again?”

God, who were these old guys? And where the hell did—wait a second.

“Matthew, nice try, you get back here,” he barked. Matt froze from where he was trying to sneak away to go finish the job on his ribs. He squinted and scowled in Jack’s direction and then made a break for it before Jack could get past Bert’s huge mass.

He didn’t get too far. They were on Jack’s turf now.

“Nooooo.”

Rudy covered the bottom of his face, but Jack could see his huge grin under it.

“Sorry fellas,” he said, “We’re having a father-son night out.”

“Get off, old man. Get off.”

The second he let go, Matt would throw himself out a window and vanish into the night. Jack had no fancy degrees but he was not stupid. He’d learned after the first two times.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Rudy said through the deep laugh lines in his cheeks. “Can’t fuckin’ believe it, Jackie. God, you look so good.”

Did he? That scar on his temple wasn’t doing him no favors, that was for sure.

“Matty, you look just like your dad. God, the two of you together. Hold on, just one sec. I want a picture.”

Jack had plenty of pictures of the two of them together. Foggy and Karen were ace at taking secret, sneaky pictures that no one asked them to. He hiked Matt up from his ragdoll and shoved his bag in his arms.

“Pick one and then sit,” he ordered.

Matt glared at him and then made a show of storming away and feeling for an adequate bag.

Jack huffed and then redirected his stare to Bert’s creepy gaze.

“What?” he asked.

“Just amazed you’re here is all, man,” Bert said. Man, had everyone gone bald or what? “Fogwell’s gonna be so happy to see you.”

Ah, right. The person he was most determined to avoid.

“He don’t gotta come out,” Jack said, “Guy’s probably ancient at this point. Don’t want him to—”

“JOHNATHAN MURDOCK.”

No voice would strike fear into his heart like that one.

“Nice of you to finally show up, boy.”

How was this man not dead? How had he not aged? He’d only gotten marginally whiter and slightly more forehead wrinkles since Jack had last seen him.

“He doesn’t let me out of the house,” Matt popped back up to inform the old man. Fogwell saw him and gentle as sin, put a hand on his shoulder and snapped a look Jack’s way that Jack felt in his gut.

“Boy’s not glass, Jackie. You keeping him locked up now?”

Oooooh, kiddo. You’re gonna get it now.

Matt hid behind Fogwell before Jack could take a step forward. Smart fucking boy. Jack would have his own when they got back home. Tattle-telling was worth a whole afternoon of enforced R&R.

“Just ‘cause he’s a bigshot lawyer now, don’t make him smart,” Jack shot at the shoulder Matt was hiding behind.

Fogwell laughed, loud. Like a cracking whip. The sound was always heart-attack inducing and always comforting once you got past it.

“Matty’s doing just fine. He ain’t need brains to punch a bag, and all things considered, he’s still got twice as much fluff in that melon of his than the rest of us combined, don’t you, kiddo?” Matt said nothing because he was already aware of the impending consequences of his actions. Fogwell grinned down at him anyways. “We gotta call Kenny and Raph to come get a load of you two,” he decided. “They’ve been asking all over if you’d come back yet.”

Ugh.

Where exactly was his opinion in this whole thing, huh?

“Ain’t got one, short-stack. Lost all your seniority when you hit the dirt, son,” Fogwell said cheerfully, or what passed as cheerfully for him.

Ugh.

Well, it didn’t matter much anyways. He’d always been the second-youngest in the group.

“Right, well. You call the idiots, I gotta deal with my pride and joy,” Jack said, reaching around the old man to grab Matt by the scruff of the neck and to forcibly guide him towards the back center left bag. The other guys laughed and Rudy slapped his shoulder and said when he was done with that, they should have a go in the ring.

Mm. They’d see. Jack wasn’t trying to do anything to fuck with his head right then. It was kind of fragile.

Matt said that he’d fight in his place and the other guys started laughing and slapping up a storm.

Oh, honey.

No, but it was a sweet thought.

  “Why’re they laughin’ at me?” Matt asked him once gloves were on. Jack patted at his side as a reminder to keep them ribs steady.

“’Cause you’re two and half to them, baby. Always will be.”

“I could probably fight the Hulk.”

“I don’t doubt it. Let’s not.”

“Definitely Winter in hand to hand.”

Yes, and that would never not be terrifying. Let’s just be normal for an hour, what do you say, huh?

  Matt favored his right, and not just because of the ribs. He was a lefty, always had been. Had come home complaining about how the school scissors hurt his hands. He explained to Jack that his sensei (who Jack was going to maim very quietly and then suffocate when Matt wasn’t paying attention) had taught him to lead with his right so that folks thought he was a righty. From there, he could knock ‘em off guard.

It worked, he said. He did it a lot.

Still, Jack found that his right hits were just a little harder than the lefts and pointed out that scare tactics were fine, but Lefty needed to be at the same firing capacity as Righty as much as possible.

Matt told him to stop fucking moving the bag then.

Adorable. Really.

Until Kenny got there. Man screamed like a girl seeing her long-lost bestie after 20 years. Announced to the whole damn gym that ‘Jackie Murdock was back, looking like the coroner’s worst nightmare.’

Fuck Kenny. He’d always been a dick. And he was an oversized dick now, with stupid big, stupid useless muscles.

“You body-building, man? What’s up with this?” he gasped out under Kenny’s grip next.

“Hell yeah I am, here, get a load of this.”

No, no, he really didn’t—alright, he was doing it anyways, great. Yes. Very impressive. Anyone worth their salt could knock him out in one punch.

“Oh, yeah? You wanna give it a go, then Battlin’ Jack?”

People were fucking looking at him now, thanks pal. You’re doing great.

“I got a head injury,” he said flatly, which made Matty laugh at least.

“No shit. Look at that bad boy,” Kenny said. “We were fuckin’ devastated when we heard man, everyone was. You should have said something, we could have helped you out. Like—”

“How about we don’t go there?” Jack interrupted. He hadn’t come here for pity. He just wanted to wear his kid out so he didn’t go wear himself out on someone less gentle’s fists.

Kenny feel back and dropped his eyes.

“Sure. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I ain’t here for too long anyways. You got plenty of time to go back to missing me and calling me a dumbass.”

“Not really funny, Jack.”

It wasn’t meant to be.

  Raph stumbled in about half an hour later for a repeat of this conversation with greater enthusiasm. He’d stopped boxing, actually. To Jack’s surprise. Then to his enormous guilt.

“After what happened to you, big guy, I said to myself, this shit ain’t worth it. My baby girl was on the way, you remember? So I says, nah. We’re gonna do this right. We’re gonna go to college.”

“No shit, you went to college?” Jack asked him.

“Damn skippy—got me a degree and everything. Graphic Design.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Means, I’m an artist, dipshit. Here, lookit these things. I been doing websites for ages now.”

Aw, Raph. You did so good! Jack was so proud.

“Me too, man. Didn’t mean to uh, use you like that but.”

“No, no. I’m glad something good came out of it, don’t even trip.”

“Aw, whatchu talkin’ about, Jackie? Look at your baby. Heya, Matty. Haven’t seen you in years, baby boy, how’s it hanging?”

Matt blinked in Raph’s direction a few times and then deferred to Rudy in a whisper.

Raph laughed.

“It’s alright, honey, you don’t remember me, it’s alright,” he laughed.

Raph had been what, twenty-two when Jack had died? He’d joined up right before Matt had gone blind. It only made sense that Matty couldn’t remember him.

“Man, you jumping into the ring?” Raph asked him, with a few gentle pops in the shoulder.

“Nah. Trying not to re-crack this melon,” Jack said, tapping the bullet scar.

“Holy shit, lookit that thing. Hey, be honest. Did it hurt?”

What kind of dumbass question was that?

Yeah, it hurt.

Worse than anything had ever hurt in his life.

That’s kind of why they call it a death blow.

He stopped talking about it though because it was making Matt uncomfortable. Instead, he made a crack about Matt being able to take Raph one-handed and everyone on their side of the gym oh’ed at the challenge.

“Do it, Matty,” Rudy said, “Show ‘im what you got.”

It wouldn’t be a fair fight by a long shot.

And it wasn’t. Matt just tripped the guy right there on the mat and the whole gym went into uproar. Raph gave it a few swings, but they were just plain bad so all Matt had to do was step back out of range.

“You even trying?” he goaded Raph, and then when that worked, he got a good one in the guy’s solar plexus.

Jack winced and hoped it was only at half-strength. Given that Raph recovered and called it a wrap, it probably was.

  Matt was much, much happier on the way home, trying to goad Jack into swinging at him.

Nah.

Never.

He didn’t care how strong or big or tall Matt got. He’d never lay his knuckles on him. No, not in a million years. Not even if it was for his own good.

His knuckles were tainted with the blood of the devil. Matt’s devil was younger and more spry and its heat burned bright at the surface of his skin.

Jack’s devil had always been a deep roil, way down in the center of his chest. That bastard was horrible and didn’t know when to stay down. That bastard was the guy who’d left Matty in foster care to begin with. Jack was keeping him well out of the picture. He didn’t want to do anything which might transfer any of his dark, bubbling fury to Matt’s skin.

“C’mere,” he said, catching Matt in a headlock instead.

You, son, get kisses. That’s all you get.

Matt made disgusted noises and ducked out.

“The old guys miss you,” he said, finally evening out and walking next to Jack like a normal person. He didn’t pretend like he needed a guide since it was so late and not many folks were bopping around outdoors. It was kind of.

Kind of wild.

To be walking next to him just like he had before the accident. No hand-holding, shoulder-holding, elbow-holding necessary. No canes or dogs.

If Jack hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have thought there was a damn thing wrong with him, except his apparent need to wear sunglasses in the dark.

“I miss ‘em, too. Glad they’ve been there for you,” he said thickly.

Matt said nothing, then took his elbow in a loose grip.

“I don’t blame you,” he repeated. He said it a lot. He always seemed to know when Jack was thinking about that shit.

“I know, honey. I just wish—I dunno. Raph got out of it. Maybe I shoulda—”

Matt clutched at him and stopped walking. He was stronger than he let on, Matty. In so many ways.

“I don’t blame you,” he said firmly. “And we can’t move forward if all we do is run in circles on the coulda, shoulda, wouldas. Stop thinking about it, Dad.”

Right.

Right, no, that was true.

He just.

He just wished he’d been better. They wouldn’t be stuck on this timeline if he’d just been better.

“You don’t need to be better, you’ve always been enough.”

This kid. This fucking kid. Knew exactly what to say.

“Come here, gimme a kiss.”

“UGH. No.”

“Matty, lemme have one, yeah?”

“UGH.”

He relented and let Jack lay one on the side of his forehead. He snuck another in his hair before he jerked away.

It made him smile.

“I love you, Matt, you know that?”

“Course I know. I always known. I love you, too. Now stop being weird. I want Chinese.”

Jack laughed.

Sure, whatever he wanted. Anything.

 —

Hope this gives you some hope, anon!!

[hockeylvr59]

Hurt || Jeff Skinner

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So Jeff scared the crap out of me today and well it led to this. It’s kind of a companion piece to What Ifs but it’s not directly apart of that series because it doesn’t fit in the timeline.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1961

You always did your best to watch Jeff’s games even though you couldn’t be there due to the long distance aspect of your relationship. Today though they were playing the caps, a team you couldn’t stand and you were honestly so far behind on your school work that you needed to focus and try and get some things done.

It was all going pretty well for awhile, you did keep checking the score and the Sabres were winning. Then in the second period you were checking one of your group chats and someone mentioned that Jeff had been hurt and that it seemed bad. Immediately you stopped the reading you were attempting to get through and logged onto twitter knowing that it would be the fastest source of any updates.

Watching the play absolutely broke your heart. The way he was crawling on the ice and the amount of pain he seemed to be in as Jack and a trainer assisted in getting him up and off the ice. He wasn’t putting any weight on his left ankle and before you even knew what you were doing, you were digging in your closet for clothes and going into your bathroom for the necessities before throwing a few of your books and your laptop in another bag.

Within ten minutes you were out your door, tears pooling in your eyes as you set your GPS to Jeff’s apartment and just started driving. He was hurt and it looked serious and right now you cursed yourself for not being in Buffalo.

Though a part of you wanted to listen to the radio broadcast in hopes that they would give an update, if it was bad you weren’t sure that you could handle hearing it while driving. Instead you just listened to some old podcasts trying to distract yourself for as much of the five hour drive as you could.

Stopping once to get gas, you checked your phone and saw that the Sabres had won. At the very least that was good, though you couldn’t get the sight of your boyfriend hurt on the ice out of your head. By the time you arrived in Buffalo around 7:30, you couldn’t stop shaking as you feared the worst.

Pulling into the parking lot of Jeff’s apartment you finally got the nerve to text him needing to know whether he was home or possibly at the hospital. His response that he was just hanging out at home took a little stress off of you as you gathered your things and headed inside. If he was home that meant that the chance he needed surgery was lower, and that maybe it was just a clean break.

As you knocked softly on his door you vainly wiped away the fresh tears from your eyes. The door opened far more quickly than you expected it to, and you wondered if he had one of the guys over to help him.

Instead it was the gorgeous, sweet man you were head over heels for and his eyes went wide when he saw you, yours doing the same as you looked down to see no cast or anything on his leg.

The first thought that crossed your mind was that you had fallen asleep behind the wheel or had been involved in an accident and this was merely a dream. There was no way that he wasn’t hurt, you’d seen the play yourself, you’d seen how much pain he’d been in.

When he reached out to touch you though there was no way to deny how real it felt and stepping forward you collapsed into his chest, sobs racking your body as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Babe...hey...hey I’m okay.” He whispered into your ear, his hands rubbing gently over your back. After a moment, one of his hands shifted to draw your head back from his chest and he dropped his mouth down to kiss you, trying to calm the panicked feeling he could feel radiating off of you.

Breaking the kiss only when you couldn’t breathe, Jeff quickly used the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears away before reaching for your bags to pull them and you inside. Once your things were set safely on the ground, he pulled you against him again, his lips dropping to the top of your head.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He mused, affection and awe lacing his words.

“You...you were hurt…” You murmured, confusion filling you at how he was standing in front of you completely fine. “I was reading and someone messaged me that you’d be injured and so I watched the play and it was so bad and…” Coughing as you nearly choked on your own saliva from the emotions inside you Jeff quickly pulled you over to his couch and then down onto his lap.

“I promise you I’m fine.” He said, fingers grazing over your skin as he cupped your face in his hands again. “I’m okay. Calm down sweetheart.” He urged. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Leaning forward you kissed him again, having missed his touch since it had been over two months since you’d seen him in person. He was here, right here, and he was smiling against your kiss, something that he wouldn’t be able to do if he was hurt.

“You really drove five hours for me?” He questioned once you were simply settled in his lap, your head tucked into the gap between his shoulder and neck.

“I didn’t even think twice.” You mumbled. “I just reacted and the only thing I could do was be here, no matter what.”

“You’re crazy, beautiful.” He declared. “Have you eaten anything?” He added and when you shook your head he sighed. “Alright, let’s find a take out menu to get some food in your stomach before you make yourself sick.”

Leaving you on the couch, Jeff walked to his kitchen, his gait a little strained but nothing major, considering what had happened earlier. When he returned it was with take out menus, a bottle of wine and two glasses. After pouring you a glass which you took gratefully, he slid back onto the couch, lifting your legs out of the way for a moment before dropping them back over his own.

Reaching for his hand as he rattled off food options, you brushed your fingertips over his palm and finally felt yourself relaxing a little. Jeff was your everything, no doubt about it, and you’d known for months that you loved him but sitting here it hit you that you were completely in love with him.

Once Jeff had placed the food order for delivery, you found yourself shifting to straddle him, your hands fiddling with the hair at the base of his scalp. His hands rested against your lower back and he looked at you with a mild level of confusion.

“I love you.” You whispered. “I am head over heels in love with you. I have never been so scared in my entire life and I am so glad you’re okay. I…I don’t know what I would have done.” Pulling your lower lip between your teeth you bit gently, shivering as one of Jeff’s hands slid up under your shirt.

Seconds later, Jeff’s mouth was on your own again, pulling your lip from between your teeth to kiss you again. Whining softly, you tugged his head closer and let everything go hazy for a moment at the feeling of him.

“I am completely, totally in love with you too y/n.” He assured you when he pulled back. Everything went quiet for a few minutes after that until Jeff’s hands shifted to move you to his side again.

“Now...I know you were actually planning on watching this Stadium Series game so how about we do that together?” He suggested, reaching for his remote to flip channels back to NBC where the game was airing. The fact that you had a million and one things to do was completely forgotten as Jeff kissed your head and rubbed a hand over your side while you focused on taking a few deep breaths and switching your mind to the game in front of you.

Neither of you moved until the food arrived, Jeff once again slipping away from you for just a moment before coming back and handing you a container.

“Thank you.” You said softly, a chuckle escaping him as he once again processed the fact that you were really here, had driven five hours just to check on him because of your fear of him being hurt.

“You’re welcome. This is much better than watching the game with the guys any day.” He teased.

After awhile, food containers were set aside and the two of you just snuggled together, Jeff pulling a blanket down over you. With the roller coaster of emotions you’d been through today you were already exhausted but you were determined to stay awake knowing that since he was truly okay the time you had to spend with him was limited. Just as you were thinking about having to drive home Jeff’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“So...is there anyway I can convince you to stay until Monday morning?” He proposed. “Coach is giving me tomorrow off and I really really just want to spend some more time with you.” Sighing you shrugged, thinking about it. You really didn’t want to even think about driving the five hours back tomorrow but you would be missing two classes Monday if you stayed and you really shouldn’t at this point in the semester.

“Can I get back to you on that in the morning?” You requested certain that you were likely going to end up saying screw it and staying the extra day, but needing to debate with yourself awhile longer.

“Of course.” He whispered. “And don’t feel pressured. I’ll take every minute with you that I can. That fact that you’re here right now already blows my mind.”

Crawling into his bed with him later that night your phone buzzed on the nightstand and when you looked at it you couldn’t help but laugh and glare softly at the man beside you. He’d posted a picture of the two of you cuddling, you looked like you were practically asleep and you definitely had been. It was a really cute picture, the caption was what had caused the glare.

Definitely may need to leave a game hurt more often if it brings the love of my life to my doorstep. Just kidding, sweetheart. I’m a lucky lucky man today though, both for my health, and to have a woman who will drive five hours just to be by my side.

“Don’t joke about getting hurt babe. Please.” You pouted, the expression turning to a squeal as Jeff pulled you under him, his hands tickling your sides.

“Fine. But I am the luckiest man.” He echoed aloud as he dropped down to kiss you.

“You better believe it,” You teased breaking the kiss to tug his shirt over his head. Your intentions weren’t sexual, not tonight, but you just wanted to be as close to him as you possibly could.

Snuggled into his chest, it didn’t take long for you to start to drift off again. And maybe you were dreaming but you could have sworn you heard Jeff whisper that he couldn’t wait to make you his wife so that he could fall asleep and wake up next to you every morning. So that you never had to worry about him being hurt and feeling helpless again. So that he could be there for you like you were there for him today.

[lonely-bored-writer]

Is Everything Okay? Ch. 3

"It's not what you think!" Daniel cried, stopping his teacher from continuing to dial on his office phone. Daniel sighed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodies. Trying to calm the intense beating in his chest, and push the anxiety down. He needed to be confident, needed to make Lancer believe him. With one more calming breathe, Daniel continued. "My parents... They didn't... They aren't hurting me. They didn't do this." He stammered, motioning to the dark, ugly bruise that colored his left cheek.

"Care to tell me who did?" Lancer questioned, settling himself in his chair. Pressing his two index fingers against each other and rested them against his lips. Daniel took a seat in front of the older man, a hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He shook his head, the pressed look the teen received caused him to quickly continue.

"It was late last night, I was walking back from Sam's and... someone tried to rob me, I didn't see him but when I didn't have money, he hit me with his gun and ran." Daniel stuttered, dropping his gaze to his red sneakers. A silence hung in the air, neither of the party speaking before the elder man released a sigh, giving Daniel a disapproving look. "I'm telling the truth!"

"As much as that could be the truth" Lancer began, shaking his head ever so slightly. "That doesn't explain the other marks."

"What other marks." Daniel mumbled, tugging his sleeves further down his hand. He knew he was taking a shot in the dark, Lancer just confirmed to the younger teen that he wasn't going to believe him so easily. He might have to go to plan B…

"You know very well what I'm talking about." Lancer spoke, flashing the teen a pointed look even though said teen was too busy inspecting his red sneakers. The silence that hung in the air seemed to answer Lancer's unasked questions, concern and fear filling the older man. He worried that maybe him getting involved lead to the ugly bruise that covered the boy's cheek, or that he might have all this wrong. He didn't want to risk ruining a very loving family, much like the Fentons portrayed themselves, but he couldn't risk sending Daniel back to that home if there was a possibility that it is as abusive as it seemed... Lancer didn't want to have to contact authorities, he wouldn't have to if the shielded teen before him spoke the truth to him, but he knew Daniel. He knew it wouldn't be easy to get the truth. With a sigh, the teacher's hands moving back to his phone, fully intended to call the police.

"Wait." Daniel spoke up, turning his pleading gaze up to the vice principal. "Just believe me... My parents aren't hurting me." Lancer sighed, running a hand down his face, he released his hold on the telephone once again.

"Even if it isn't your parents who are doing this to you, I still need to contact the authorities." Lancer began, giving the anxious teen before him a melancholy gaze. "Someone is hurting you Daniel, and I can't just sit aside and let that happen." The vexed look that over took the teen's features startled Lancer.

"You can't just sit aside and do nothing!" The anger that dripped from the teen's voice shocked the teacher, confusion clouding his features. "This started the beginning of Freshman year and now it's a problem?!"

"Daniel, I-"

"No." Daniel cut in, quickly standing from his seat. "I'm not being abused at home. I'll make sure I finish all the homework I'm given, so you don't have to worry about anything." Before Lancer could speak, the teen was out of the office.

The teacher sat dumbfounded. He knew something happened in freshman year that lead to the decline of Daniel' behavior and health, but around that time it didn't seem so bad. Lancer had been so busy with everything that he didn't keep his eyes on the teen. It almost seemed as if in the blink of the eye the teen's health seemed to decrease drastically.

Lancer buried his head into his hands. The image of the malnourished, bruised, and frighten boy etched into his mind. The teen seemed so vehement that his parents weren't hurting him, but the teen was still endanger. Who ever it is that's harming the poor boy still has access to him as long as the authorities didn't know. The worn out teacher released a sigh, his eyes landing on the phone. He knew if he contacted the police Daniel may very well hate him, but he couldn't stand seeing the young boy deteriorate before his eyes. Lancer knew what he had to do, he had to help Daniel even if the Teen didn't want it.

Daniel sighed, he seriously needed to stop doing that. He was pretty certain he has sighed more times these past four days than he has his whole life, but the teen couldn't help it. After his "minor" flip out on Lancer he had a ton of misplaced aggression that needed releasing, and per usual, ghosts decided to donate themselves for the cause. He had no clue what he would do now. He keeps freaking out whenever he tries to handle Lancer, and it isn't helping his case.

Kicking a loose stone, Daniel shoved his hands into his pockets. Sam and Tucker had some family things and Daniel couldn't hide out there. He didn't feel like having to deal with his sister's insistent questioning, or his parents' not so subtle perturbed gazes. Releasing yet another sigh, the teen pulled his gaze from the cracked sidewalk to look at his house. The sight of a dark black sedan stopped him in his tracks.

He wasn't sure who that car belonged to, or why it was there but that didn't stop the anxiety that clawed it's way into his stomach and made him bilious. Taking another deep breathe, Daniel stepped into his home, being greeted by two distraught parents, a woman and man in suits, and two police officers. The fear augmented, without needing to be told, Daniel knew exactly who these people were.

"Danny?" Came his mum's shaky voice. "This is agent Smith and Anderson. They're with Child Protective Services, they'd like to ask you a few questions." Daniel felt unease by his mother's unnaturally calm yet shaky voice, and how his father just sat there. Jack Fenton's face was eerily blank. He didn't make a move until Madeline ushered him out the room at the command of Agent Smith.

"You're not in trouble Daniel." Smith smiled, gesturing to the couch before her. "Why don't you take a seat and then we can get started."

"Danny." Daniel mumbled, taking the seat. He dropped his bag next to his feet, hands fidgeting with a loose string on his hoodie's sleeve. "I prefer Danny." All that got was a nod, and Anderson wrote down a few things.

"Do you know why we're here?" Smith questioned, crossing her legs.

"Lancer had to have called you." Daniel sighed, tugging on the thread. "I'm fine."

"How did you get that bruise?" Smith catechized.

"I already told Lancer." He pinched the bridge of his nose, indignation already growing underneath his anxiety. "I was walking home last night, it was a botched mugging. My parents didn't even know until this morning, they freaked when they found out. They didn't do anything."

"Freaked?" Anderson repeated, his hands quickly writing something down. "How did they 'freak'"

"Not the way you wanted them too." Daniel glared. "They were concerned about what happened, they wanted to call the police but I talked them out of it cause I never saw the guy. He was behind me the whole time." Anderson simply gave a nodded and continued writing. That irked Daniel's mood even more, what the heck was this man even writing.

"Would you mind if our Medical examiner looked you over?" Smith questioned, her questioned sounded a lot like a demand.

"Yes." Daniel grounded out. "When can I go? I have a lot of homework."

"You could leave as soon as our medical examiner looked you over." Anderson smiled, earning a glare from the teen.

"And what? You expect to find me covered in bruises? Then what, you'll blame it all on my parents?"

"If we found that, we would have to remove you from the household until we can determine for certain how you got the wounds." Smith supplied, leaning forward with a soft, reassuring smile. "If your parents haven't hurt you in any way, then this would all blow over." Daniel gave a reluctant nod.

"Where will I be staying?" Daniel blurted when agent Smith reentered the medical room. Her face read volumes of her shock. "I know you won't let me go back home so where will I be staying while this all clears up?"

"We still need contact a few relative, but we are trying to find someone near by and that you don't interact with daily." Anderson answered, as he entered after Smith.

"That means I can't stay with Sam or Tucker?" Daniel questioned, a frown pulling at his lips. All he received was a sad shake of his head. "This is ridiculous, it's just a few bruises!" He cried, throwing his hands into the air.

"Ridiculous?" Anderson spoke, his voice held disbelief. "You have three fractured ribs, a hairline fracture on your left wrist, a fractured hip bone, a concussion, a not so well relocated shoulder, and bruises covering more than half your body, along with a few cuts. Kid this is serious. Someone is hurting you, and it's not ridiculous."

Daniel sighed, burying his head into his hands. Tears pricked slightly on the back of his eyes, but he pushed them down. The anxiety and guilt overshadowed the vexation he had felt earlier. He was putting his parents through a lot, and he could end it all with the truth. A truth that could land him on a table ready to be dissected.

"Danny." Anderson spoke softly, crouching before the teen to make eye contact. "This maybe our job, but we do, genuinely care. Can you please help us help you? All we need is a name of who did this. No teen should go through this." Daniel swallowed and shook his head, earning a tired sigh.

"How about you go, and settle in your new place for now, and we can try talking more tomorrow?" Smith supplied, which gathered the attention of the teen, whose head shot up swiftly.

"Who?" Daniel's eyebrows furrowed, confusion clouding his features.

"Your father recommended an old college friend. Said you don't see him very often." Smith glanced down at the folder she held. "It's a Vladimir Masters." Daniel froze, the color in his face draining some. Before he gave a nod, his gaze falling back to the ground. In his moment, he didn't notice the look the two agents shared.

"Mr. Masters will be here soon to pick you up." Anderson smiled. "One of us will be stopping by tomorrow around two."

"Can I see my parents?"

"I'm sorry Danny." Smith sighed, placing a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Maybe we can set up a supervised visit after you have settled down with Mr. Masters, but right now we can't set one up."

"Can I at least still hang out and talk with my friends?" Daniel asked, hugging himself. He wasn't sure if he could do this a smart way if he couldn't consult his friends.

"Maybe not hanging out with just yet, but you could text and call them." Anderson decided to go on when the teen sent a defiant look. "Until we know for sure who is hurting you then we can't let you be with people you see daily unsupervised."

"Vlad Masters." Daniel broke the silence that had built. The suddenness of the name, stunning the two agents.

"What about him?" Smith questioned, crouching to the teen's level. The boy kept his gaze on the ground before him, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. The disquietude he felt earlier returned with vengeance, he swallowed against the lump in his throat.

He knew they wouldn't be able to prove that Masters had done anything to him, but he knew it would buy him some time to figure out how to deal with this. Throwing Vlad under the bus probably isn't the best plan he has ever come up with, but he needed to do something. There was a snowball's chance in Hell that Daniel was going to stay at Vlad's mansion.

"Vlad Masters." Daniel swallowed, turning his feigned confident gaze to the agent before him. Taking a breath to try and calm the hammering heart in his rib cage, he continued. "He's the one that has been... abusing me."

The stunned silence that followed only bolstered the consternation that filled Daniel. He felt as if someone had a strong hold on his stomach and throat, causing nausea and the uncomfortable feeling of his throat closing up. His head throbbed annoyingly, and tears pricked behind his stinging eyes. Daniel was close to disappear right then and there when Anderson spoke up.

"For sure?" Anderson questioned, he had his own worries about being able to prosecute Masters, but he knew if it was him then he would try. "I'm going to trust you Danny, and if you say Vladimir Masters is hurting you then I will do everything in my power to help you."

"Yes." Daniel nodded. He couldn't believe he said it. He actual is throwing Masters under the bus, he knew this was all going to end badly. He was just about to throw a high powered, halfa who wants him as a son, or to kill him. There was definitely no way any of this was going to end well.

He was screwed.

[jbuffyangel]

I’m so bummed you won’t be reviewing This Is Us anymore! I always loved them, and I was really looking forward to your insights into the whole Jack/Nicky dynamic! Can you please give me something? I have tried to be understanding of Jack’s POV, and part of me does understand, but part of me doesn’t. I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, I just know I still love Jack #rideordie What are your insights? Do you think Jack’s actions were justified??

I’m caught up on This Is Us now. Sorry I had to stop reviewing Anon! I just had to make time for other projects. Jack and Nicky is crazy complicated. 

Do I agree with Jack? No. I don’t think he should have lied about his brother being dead, but I think for Jack the Nicky he knew and loved was dead. He became someone Jack no longer recognized. The war took his little brother from him. It was a death to Jack. Not all deaths are physical.

Obviously what happened in Vietnam was an accident. Nicky didn’t intentionally kill a child BUT he was high and he used hand grenades to fish with a little boy on a boat. Extraordinarily dangerous behavior that was likely going to get someone killed. One thing that bothered me about that scene was Nicky had enough time to yell at the little boy to jump a couple times and even stare at the grenade for a second. And then Nicky jumps out of the boat and leaves the little boy. Why not simply grab the little boy and jump together? He was very small. But this is the problem with Nicky’s drug use. He wasn’t thinking clearly at all. He may not have intended to kill that boy, but his choices still resulted in a child’s death. 

Jack Pearson has a clearly defined sense of right and wrong. Even in Vietnam, living among the “enemy,” he never lost sight of their humanity. What Nicky did is inconceivable to Jack. It was a line in the sand. Nicky had simply gone too far and there was no turning back. Not ever.

Even if Nicky had explained it was an “accident” I don’t think it would have changed anything from Jack’s point of view. At least not in the beginning, which is why he wouldn’t let Nicky tell him what happened. Jack had already made up his mind. 

Right or wrong that’s just who Jack was. He viewed what happened in very black and white terms. Nicky killed a child. And Jack couldn’t accept, understand or forgive ever hurting a child. I think, in that moment, Jack felt Nicky was just like their father. Jack was done with Nicky for the same reasons he was done with his dad. Forgiving Nicky, and having a relationship, felt like saying what he did was okay. No different than having a relationship with their father as an adult felt like saying his abuse was okay. 

I think we learn something new about these characters with every episode. Jack strives incredibly hard to be a good husband, father and friend. To the point of an almost out of this world level of heroism, giving and selflessness. He is intensely loving, loyal, compassionate and committed. 

But Jack is also human. He grew up in an abusive home. He struggles with alcoholism. He had an incredibly difficult time opening up about his past and he shut his family out when it came to his past. Jack Pearson is not perfect and nobody has more difficulty accepting that than Jack. So much of who Jack became was a result of wanting to be NOTHING like his father. So, any kind of failure or mistake is very difficult for Jack to cope with because he so deeply fears it means he’s just like his dad. Is it irrational? Yes, but fears often are.

Jack tried his best to be a good brother to Nicky, but it didn’t seem to matter how much Jack gave. It was never enough. Before the kids, before Rebecca- there was Nicky. Jack felt responsible for his little brother. Jack was supposed to be Nicky’s Superman and, in the end, he couldn’t save him. Jack couldn’t save Nicky from their father, Vietnam, drugs, killing that little boy or PTSD. Jack tried to be everything to Nick and he feels like he failed. Jack couldn’t forgive Nicky because he couldn’t forgive himself.

What we learn about Jack in these episodes is he will give and give and give and give and give… and then he hits a wall. When Jack hits that wall, when he has nothing left to give, he is DONE. Jack reached out to Nicky time and again, but Nicky didn’t reach back. Not until it was too late and Jack had already shut down.

When we look at Jack later in life he has surrounded himself with people who always reach back. Whatever love Jack is giving, however hard Jack is trying, he feels like there is someone loving, giving and trying just as much. That’s not something Jack ever had growing up. He never had ANYONE take care of HIM. Jack tried to be everything to everyone, and he was pretty damn successful at it. But Rebecca, the kids and Miguel were also everything for Jack. Wherever Jack felt like he failed with Nicky, he was succeeding with his family and he was absolutely determined to protect that, even if it required going to extremes.

I think that’s why Jack shut Nicky out. He just couldn’t take care of him anymore. Not if Jack was going to have anything left to give his family. Nicky was too much even for Jack Pearson and it absolutely KILLED him to admit it. So, he couldn’t talk about it. He shut everything messy, painful and awful about his past inside a little box. And he put that box on a shelf. 

That’s how my mother got me through my miscarriage. She told me to put all that pain in a little box and set it on a shelf, just so I could get through the day to day. Just so I could breathe again. And then she told me, when I was ready, I could take the box off the shelf, open it and grieve. And then box it back up. And then open it again when I was ready. And that is grief. It is a life long process of opening the box and closing it again. Open and close until one day you figure out how to function with the pain. Loss doesn’t get easier. We just figure out how to live with it. It becomes part of who we are. 

Nicky was Jack’s box on the shelf. He was a gaping wound for Jack. He was on the cusp of being ready to open that box and then he died. That’s the tragedy of Nicky and Jack. I think Rebecca is right. If Jack had lived he would have found his way back to his brother. 

Does it mean Jack handled his relationship with his brother perfectly? No. But Nicky also did a lot of pretty awful things that prompted that reaction from Jack. I think we’re so used to see Jack save everyone that’s it’s shocking to see someone he couldn’t save. It’s to remind us that Jack is human just like the rest of us. Even he had his limits.

I think that’s why Kevin is so intent on helping Nicky. He can sense this was something Jack left unfinished because of his untimely death. Kevin feels responsible for Nicky like Jack did. Kevin is trying so desperately to be everything Jack Pearson was. He wants to be Superman just like his dad. 

But that’s the thing. Kevin is like his dad. He can be unrelenting in his determination, kindness, compassion and generosity. When Kevin commits to something he’s like a big love bomb going off. Jack was the same way.

But like Jack, Kevin hasn’t figured out how to open the box without it swallowing him hole. I think Kevin thought finding Nicky would bring his father back to life in some way and it wasn’t quite what he expected. Sure, Kevin helped Nicky but did he save him? No. The only person who can save Nicky is Nicky. But opening Jack’s box on the shelf also opened up Kevin’s as well. Jack drank because he feared he was just like his father. Kevin drinks because he fears he’s nothing like his.

[dragon-ball-meta]

Ohhh boy... -cracks knuckles- Let’s do this, shall we?

30. HIS DESTRUCTO DISC WAS THE STRONGEST KI ATTACK IN THE SERIES How does that not make sense? You’re starting your list off by not even framing your complaints correctly, as your beef isn’t the attack’s power, but that it’s underused. But even that’s explained. In short, the Kienzan takes up a LOT of energy. To form, to get it spinning fast enough, to throw, takes a bit out of the user. It’s also got several drawbacks, including, but not limited to, being quite loud. People can hear it coming and adjust accordingly. One can make a slightly weaker version they can steer, but that reduces its effectiveness.  Really, the Kienzan is only feasible in certain scenarios, at least until Krillin managed to gain the ability to control it without sacrificing power. 29. HE THOUGHT ANDROID 18 WAS DATING HER TWIN BROTHER Uh... ok? I mean I’m not sure how that ‘makes no sense’ but yeah, he made a mistake. Whoops? 28. HIS BODY MEASUREMENTS Bear in mind a few things here. Namely, that while Toriyama does depict these characters as “muscular”, it’s also lean. So the idea he should be ridiculously jacked is also a bit off. I believe the weight estimate also originally came back when the “Z” arcs started, so there’s that. Otherwise, this is probably one of the only legitimate points on this list. 27. THE REASON WHY HE SHAVES HIS HEAD ...again, how does this make no sense? He shaves his head as a sign of dedication to his practice of the martial arts and because he was taught it aided in the flow of ki in one’s body. That’s explained full well. Just because he ASSUMED Roshi shaved his head doesn’t make this not make sense. 26. HIS ABILITY TO BREAK THE FOURTH WALL It’s a comedy manga at heart. There’s jokes like this throughout. In Goku’s rematch with Yamcha, Goku hits him so hard that he actually breaks one of the borders between the panels and bounces off of it. It’s a thing in the series. Also, Idk why you’re referencing movies when they’re clearly not part of Toriyama’s continuity, but I’m reasonably certain that “lasted a season” was meant in terms of time passed, not “seasons” of a show. Especially as DB never had “seasons”. 25. HE NEVER TRAINED WITH WITH KING KAI Now this is what annoys me about this article. Y’all will take the anime and even movies into account when making this list... and yet with this complaint, you even have a screenshot of where he trained with King Kai in the anime. Yet you say he didn’t do it. Also, “with all the time he spends in the afterlife”? lol really?  24. HIS HEAD DOTS You... you literally explain this in full. How is this something that makes no sense? Literally how? 23. HIS REDUCED FIGHTING PRESENCE IN THE CELL AND BUU SAGAS Again, you explain this in the first paragraph of this entry. Yet you also talk about his activities in both arcs. So... how does this not make sense other than the fact that complaining about it makes no sense? I mean he still has a role, it’s just primarily non-combat. He carried the meat of the story in the Cell arc. 22. HIS BIZARRE CHILDHOOD "A lot of the pasts and families of Dragon Ball’s characters have been shown before (including Frieza's), but Krillin’s remains a mystery.“ Actually, no. They’re not. By and large, we learn very little about the pasts of any of these characters. We have only the vaguest details about anyone not Goku, Vegeta, Piccolo, or Bulma, discounting the people we actually see born during the series. Kami’s past, even his name, is a complete mystery. Tien? No one knows his background outside being taken in by the Crane Hermit and training alongside Chiaotzu. This is not uncommon. But we actually do know a bit more about Krillin’s past in that he was raised at Orin, and he was abused. Daily. Frequently. It left him with a complex that lasted well into his adult life. He ran away one day in tears, determined he was gonna prove he wasn’t weak or worthless someday. That’s a good sight more than we’d gotten about most characters til recently. 21. HE NEARLY BECAME AN ANDROID You guys are reaching into arcade path endings from video games. Why am I not surprised? 20. HOW HE DEFEATED GOHAN DURING TOURNAMENT OF POWER PREP This is easily one of the worst offenders on this entire list if only because this is very, very easily explained. Hell, it was the point of them doing it. Gohan was operating with the wrong perspective, that Krillin going one on one vs a powerful opponent would, by necessity, be outclassed and overpowered and thus couldn’t be an asset. He was also under the assumption Krillin had gotten much weaker, unaware he was stronger than ever. Couple these things with both the fact that Gohan himself wasn’t near as strong as he used to be, and Krillin simply out-planning Gohan and beating him by using the rules of the arena against him vs trying to actually overpower him, and Gohan losing there makes perfect sense. Krillin simply overwhelmed all his senses, dropped out of sight and detection, and then simply knocked Gohan off-balance and shoved him out of bounds. Simple. Literally nothing hard to understand about that. 19. HE’S THE FIRST PERSON FROM UNIVERSE 7 TO LOSE IN THE TOURNAMENT OF POWER He’s the first one out because he actually ditched the safety of the group strategy and rushes out to rescue his wife, who was nearly eliminated first herself. He then teamed up with her for a bit and even took out a particularly skilled enemy himself by using his head. Then he was tripped out of bounds because he was distracted by (sadly) rare praise. It happens and it’s not indicative of “strength” or “power” at all. 18. HIS BATTLE STRATEGY AGAINST FRIEZA'S SECOND FORM Lord, here we go. Imma say this again: The Kienzan takes a LOT of energy to form and use. Krillin had just thrown like, twenty of them in a row and then had to run at top speed. The odds of him being able to produce a Kienzan in time are slim to none This is why, upon blinding Freeza, he was yelling for Vegeta (who was still FRESH, mind you) to attack Freeza now. But Vegeta was too paralyzed with shock and fear to act. I’d also like to point out that blinding Freeza wouldn’t have been super effective with an attack that Freeza could easily HEAR coming. He heard it at the last minute even over Gohan’s screams of agony, pretty sure he’d have heard it off to the side where it was just them too. 17. HE LEAVES HIS DAUGHTER IN THE CARE OF KIDS Yes. Apprehensively. At the insistence of his wife, who assured him she’d be ok and could take care of herself. Y’all really tried to use this to imply he’s a bad dad, wow. 16. HIS REGRESSIVE PTSD IN THE FOREST OF TERROR I’m not sure if I’m happy someone finally admitted it’s PTSD (#DragonBallAintDeepBro) or pissed off someone called this “regressive”. Wait no, I know exactly what I am, and frankly... WTF is wrong with you? How on God’s green earth is that Regressive? Are you, by the body of this entry, implying PTSD is a thing that exclusively happens to people who aren’t strong or “strong enough”? Either way, you missed the entire point of the episode, which you simultaneously admit was good character development. A development arc hinted at since the Buu arc really, but really kickstarted back in the BoG arc. The Forest of Terror was never about just strength or ability. Truly, the enemies seen there were only as strong or weak as Krillin empowered them to be by his fear and the ki he poured into them as a result. The point is they were a personification of Krillin’s own fears. His self-doubt and self-loathing. The condition was slowly killing him, his confidence was next to nothing, and it was affecting his life. His job. His family. It’s why 18 gave him the kick in the butt to start training again, to try to regain some of his confidence. It’s why Roshi sent them there; he saw the lack of confidence in the man. He saw his student in anguish, hating himself for not being more than what he was, but also fully believing he never could be. That he just wasn’t good enough. It’s why, even when facing enemies that his rational mind KNEW were weaker than himself, to say nothing of dead, he still panicked. His PTSD was triggered, vivid memories of what they’d done to him, the pain he suffered, came rushing back. And removing it was what finally allowed him to reach into his truest potential, and become even stronger than he’d ever been before. I also love the realistic way the series handled the condition, in that even as he tries to improve himself, he still has moments where it starts to kick in and he has to fight it off, will himself not to lose it. His wife knows it too and takes extra care (for the most part) to not let him slip back into it. But he refuses to allow it to control him anymore. How the hell that’s somehow a negative, let alone something that “doesn’t make sense”, is a mystery to me. 15. HIS "FULL POTENTIAL" THAT THE GRAND ELDER NAMEKIAN GURU UNLOCKED How is this really confusing? It simply allows him to tap into potential, power, that was blocked off. There are many factors that can contribute to it, be it limitations on time, plateaus, mental blocks, etc. The Grand Elder removed those and awaken that potential. It’s why Gohan and Krillin started to make the gains that they did at the rate they did, going from only about as strong as Goku had been on Earth to strong enough to help Vegeta overpower and potentially kill Freeza in his first form. 14. HIS YOUNGER CHARACTER TRAITS Y-you do realize you’re literally complaining about character development... right? Krillin grew up in an abusive environment where he felt he could trust no one, everyone was out for themselves, and that he had to do whatever it took to get ahead and be accepted as one of Roshi’s pupils so he had a chance to be... anybody, really. And yes, over time, between the influences of his friends and general maturing and growing up, he became a very kind, compassionate, and caring individual and a true friend. THAT’S. CHARACTER. DEVELOPMENT. And to present these traits as a “mistake” is to somehow suggest they came later. They were his original traits. 13. HIS BULLET INJURIES DURING HIS POLICE JOB Literally explained in Resurrection F, both the arc and the movie. Emptying one’s body of ki leaves it vulnerable. It should be his instinct to do so right away, but he doesn’t. He’s becoming careless and distracted. It’s part of his PTSD. Hell, Goku’s clearly not getting “that weak” and yet he also  got lightly bruised by a bullet because he didn’t keep his energy up, a sign he was falling out of practice due to his inability to find a training partner, or to leave to a place that would really push him in his training due to work. Also, if one being vulnerable to gunfire means they shouldn’t be a police officer, or any like job where there might be danger... well...  That’s dumb, my friend. 12. HE CAN PERFORM THE SPIRIT BOMB AND KAIO-KEN ATTACK Stop using video games to pad your list! SERIOUSLY! And how does “performing the Spirit Bomb” make no sense? Goku and King Kai both instructed him how to do it, and Krillin’s always been especially gifted at both energy manipulation and learning on the fly. Besides, it’s not as if he knows how to summon said energy himself, just wield and form it. 11. HIS ROMANTIC NATURE NEARLY DESTROYED THE EARTH Hot Take Time: Krillin’s decision not to kill 18 stemmed from general compassion, not just the fact that she kissed him, and his decision would have had NO impact on Cell had Vegeta followed through, done what he was supposed to, and killed Cell. Even if Vegeta, by some bizarre chance, failed? Trunks was there, and just as powerful. There were two people there capable of killing Cell. No, what nearly destroyed the Earth was Vegeta’s VERY conscious decision to actually HELP Cell reach his Perfect Form, something Krillin never imagined Vegeta would be stupid and selfish enough to do. And even then, Krillin told her to get lost and hide, and even offered to help her move 16 so she could. 10. HIS EARLY DISMISSAL IN FORTUNETELLER BABA'S TOURNAMENT ...IT’S A COMEDY AND HE GOT HIS WHOLE HEAD BIT INTO BY A VAMPIRE, WHAT’S HARD TO UNDERSTAND? FFS He’s still weaker than even Yamcha at that point. His quick thinking is also all that saved Yamcha’s ass from getting whupped into submission. 9. HE PASSES AWAY THE MOST... EVEN THOUGH HE’S EARTH’S STRONGEST HUMAN Oh lord here we go... a. He wasn’t at the time of his first death. b. That kinda doesn’t mean much when you have to fight an alien lizard or ancient demon who could dust you with their pinky. This only makes no sense if you utterly ignore any and all context. Vegeta, for example, has actually died just as many times as Krillin now (Freeza, Buu, Freeza again)... and he’s the second strongest in the roster. Goku has also technically “died” just as many times now too (Piccolo, Cell, Hit), as well as Piccolo (Nappa, Buu, Freeza).  Mr. Satan and Bulma have died the least of anyone. Hardly an indicator of power. 8. HE LIVED WITH HIS FAMILY AND MASTER ROSHI IN THE KAME HOUSE It’s housed Roshi, Oolong, Krillin, Goku, Yamcha, Umigame AND Launch in the past. Housing Krillin, 18, a baby/toddler, and Roshi is hardly filled to capacity. That said... they move. They move as soon as they can afford their own home, which is shortly after 18 gets her fall money from Mr. Satan. 7. HIS FUSION WITH PICCOLO I’d just like to state for the record that this is literally complaining about a fun drawing Toriyama did of what Krillin and Piccolo would look like Fused. That is all. 6. HE CAN ABSORB SPIRIT BOMBS AND USE THEIR ENERGY Aaand we’re back to video games. 5. HE’S THE STRONGEST HUMAN ON EARTH Ok now this one? This one is utter BS. Krillin outpacing Tien makes perfect sense since it’s been happening since Tien first appeared. When everyone came back for the 23rd Budokai? The gap between those two shrunk. A lot. Krillin had not only taught HIMSELF how to fly, how to steer energy after firing it, and more, but he’d improved to the point of Piccolo not only using his true power to beat him, but he managed to survive a blow Piccolo assumed HAD to have killed him... and made Piccolo question whether or not he was even strong enough to conquer this world even if he DID beat Goku. When the Saiyans came? Even smaller gap with the exact same time to train. And Tien even had the benefit of having Chiaotzu as a partner, Krillin was off finishing his training solo. And the Grand Elder awakening his dormant potential, as well as the combat experience on Namek, finally sealed the deal. After all, Yamcha was still intently training at that time too, and Krillin surpassed him. Why then is it so hard to believe he could surpass Tien? It also doesn’t help that Tien doesn’t actually train nonstop, despite what anime filler would have you believe. He runs a dojo and a farm to boot. Tien is also demonstrably still weaker than Krillin in Super and lasts longer in the Tournament because he and Roshi are taking cover and surprising targets to knock them out while they’re off-guard. So there’s that. 4. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EXCITING FOIL TO BORING GOKU He was created as a rival character to play off Goku and give Goku something to measure himself against. That doesn’t exactly mean he’s meant to be “more exciting”, but to bring an element of entertainment to the series that had been missing, as well as give Goku someone his own age to grow with. Nice dig at the character at the end though. Top notch. 3. HE NAMES HIS DAUGHTER AFTER HIS EX-GIRLFRIEND For the last time: Maron. Is. A. Filler. Character. Toriyama did not create her. Toriyama did not name her. Toriyama named Krillin’s daughter “Marron” because it’s French for “Chestnut”, which is a play on the fact that the first syllable in Krillin’s Japanese name, “Kuri”, also means chestnut. It’s not at ALL indicative of “lingering feelings” for a character that Toriyama didn’t even make, let alone doesn’t appear in his manga or continuity at all. 2. HE NEARLY ALLOWS VEGETA TO GAIN IMMORTALITY Well, it was more or less that or let the kid he’d sworn he’d keep safe die. I don’t really blame him for at least entertaining the idea at that point. An ultimately bad idea? Yeah. But one born of desperation. Hardly the first for characters in this series. And finally... 1. HIS MISSING NOSE ...wow. It’s... it’s a physical deformity. I’m not sure what about that doesn’t make sense? This list was even more of a dumpster fire than usual.