#like i visibly jumped and was shaken for the rest of the day

[robertsbarbie]

still upset with my boss so offloading my email once again while i’m off tomorrow!

[julieverne]

"We do need to discuss our last wishes," Maura told Jane solemnly that night. She'd come over unannounced, which was unlike her. Jane had let her in despite not wanting company, despite, for the first time in her life, not wanting to talk to Maura.

They'd just dealt with a werewolf and a sniper. Maura had stabbed a man. She hadn't been hurt, but she was clearly shaken by the experience.

The more distance she tried to put between them, the more it hurt. Maura had broken up with Jack, and she hadn't even seemed upset about it. Probably too traumatised from her long day at work.

"There's something I've always wanted to do."

"We started our bucket lists. We already did ravioli," Jane pointed out. She didn't know why she was nervous. She'd faced her own mortality many times. She'd made willing sacrifices to keep her loved ones - and relative strangers - safe.

But Maura wasn't used to being grabbed. There was a bruise on her - Jane had seen it earlier, and it hurt Jane probably more than it hurt Maura. Jane hadn't been there. Jane hadn't protected her. Jane had failed.

Maura was better off without her. Better off with a man like Jack. Intellectually Jane knew all this, but her heart...

Her heart wanted Maura.

"I mean..."

They'd talked about it when Jane had jumped off a bridge. She'd already lost her baby and had nothing to live for; not with Maura dating Jack.

"I mean when that man grabbed me and I forgot I had a knife, I had a regret. A last wish." Maura came closer and Jane eyed her with trepidation. She touched Jane's cheek, and the bruise was visible now; a mark where a man's hand had hurt her.

Jane reached and touched it gently with a little growl of frustration that she'd let someone hurt Maura, even though it was on Maura's chest.

"It doesn't hurt. Not the way this does."

Still cupping Jane's cheek, she leaned in. Jane had been half-expecting this for years. She'd rehearsed what to say, how to turn her down.

But instead her mouth opened for Maura, letting her in the way she'd done for her condo, her fridge, her life. Maura's fingers tangled in her hair and Jane's palm flattened over Maura's chest, her other hand raised to push Maura away but instead settling on Maura's shoulder and pulling her closer, sliding down to her waist. Maura's tongue brushed her lips and nothing had ever been so exquisite, so wonderful. She was lost in sensation.

And then Maura pulled away with a shaky, shuddering breath, close to tears.

"I can't," Jane said, her voice cracking with regret.

"I know," Maura said, and turned to leave as the first tear slipped down her cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Maura nodded as she fumbled with the door. Jane came over to help her, leaning over her to grasp the deadbolt.

Maura turned in her arms and Jane nearly had here then and there, against the door, Maura's body pressed against herself everywhere, her sweet face so full of regret.

Instead Jane leaned down and kissed her. Just once. Softly, gently, sweetly, all the things she was only capable of for Maura.

Maura's forehead rested against Jane's cheek for a moment when she pulled away. Jane wanted to hold her, to love her the way she deserved to be loved, but Jane wasn't capable of that. There was always a ball of shame in her stomach when she realised how much more she loved Maura than she should, and Maura deserved better than that. She deserved better than Jane.

"I can die a happy woman," Maura said finally. "No regrets." She met Jane's eyes and her tongue poked for a moment between her lips, the way it did when she was stressed out. Jane let her palm smooth over Maura's back.

"No regrets," she agreed, because for one shining moment she had been brave enough to take what she wanted.

And then she closed the door between them and found she had too many regrets to count.

[sombrashe]

A Common Negative | Part 1 California

relationship troy otto x reader

content gender neutral reader, chubby reader, blood, gore, killing infected, reader may be ooc just a heads up

note(s) I just love Troy and want him to be happy :(

You don’t know exactly how many days it’s been since your plane got canceled. Such a normal occurrence. Nearly one percent of all flights in the USA are canceled a day! A fact you looked up during a bout of boredom waiting for your connecting flight. Boredom. An emotion you wish to feel again instead of this ever-present buzz of fear that makes your limbs tingle. Despite the fear, you were lucky. So much more lucky than nearly everyone at the airport. If that mother hadn't mistaken you for her child you would probably be smashed underneath thousands of feet as everyone tried to flee minutes after the first infected showed herself. At least the one in your section was a woman, but the screams throughout the large building told you you weren't the only ones suffering. How you ended up on a truck surrounded by other shaking men and women is a lot more fuzzy. Not quite as clear as the man who got overwhelmed, his screams as the small horde tore into him. Or the way they sound, the constant moaning and groaning haunts your sweetest dreams. Not that you get much sleep anymore.

Perhaps you got here by running. You were with people for most of the time, and then you were alone hiding within a small firm. The only parts of the gateway sign visible through the smoke as you walked into the abandoned town were a broken O and a hanging T. Rounding a corner, keeping close to the walls of the houses you came across an abandoned brick building. It looked old but sturdy and it was getting late. The plaque was hard under your fingertips as you brushed over it, fighting the urge to sprint inside and instead hoisting the small piece of rebar above your shoulder. Scoping out the firm you decide to hunker down here for the night the past few days causing exhaustion to weigh heavily on your limbs. You allow yourself a moment of rest, just a prologued blink really. Until you’re being shaken awake by something painfully hard. What you come to learn in a shotgun slams against the bone of your shoulder forcing you to shoot awake. Fear eats your heart and stops your breathing as the curse of sleep fogs your eyes for a moment as your brain tries to catch up with your body. The warm wooden stock is prominent in the sunlight which strayed through open holes in the roof you didn't notice the night before.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. At least if you do can it be fast?”

You don’t exactly know what you're saying, but you know you mean it. The man in front of you looks suspiciously clean, and you take a moment to process that he's alone. That means you can go out swinging. He may have a gun, but you feel invincible right now.

“I am not here to kill you. My name is Jake, this is my firm.”

“Oh… again, I’m sorry. I can just leave, I don't want any trouble.”

“No actually this is perfect, I am making my way through the town trying to collect any survivors and bring them to a safe place.”

“Safe place? That's all you have?”

“It’s on a marine base about fifty klicks north of here. We’ve been rescuing people for days now. You don’t have to trust me, but this is a one-time offer. When I leave here I am not coming back.”

“Fine, it’s not like I have much choice.”

You stand and face the man finally. His gun is retracted and placed at his side, this stance tall and soldier-like, and you wonder if he worked on the base before all this. No, wait. He said he was a lawyer or at least owned the building. You continue to wonder why he carried himself like he was on active duty as you cautiously climb into the bed of a truck. There is a blonde woman who sits closest to the tailgate, and you opt to climb far into the back, willing to jump over the edge if it comes to it. You can't place the type of gun she carried, some sort of assault rifle you think. As you stare at her, fear likely evident on your face.

After a few hours and multiple stops later, you start heading towards the base with a total of six new people sitting around you. All frail and scared, the man who gave Jake a black eye is the only human left behind. You think it's been at least an hour or two before the truck slows down to a stop. Looking around you don't see any defining landmarks, let alone any landmarks at all. You seem to be in the middle of nowhere with those creatures slowly scrambling to surround you. You’re on high alert and crouch down searching the truck bed for anything you can use. You find nothing and search within your pockets hoping you stashed something that left your mind in the panic. You feel relief flood your bones as your fingers curl around cool sharp glass. You had found it on your way out of the firm in a pile with smaller more fragile pieces. Standing straight you notice in your pursuit for a weapon, Jake and the blonde girl positioned themselves on either side of the truck. The others inside are cowering in a huddle as close to the middle as six people can allow. Using the glass you cut a stripe of shirt away from your stomach and wrap it tightly around your dominant hand using your teeth to tighten it in place. The second that protection is on you hop off the side of the edge of the bed and take position in front of the tailgate. Using your unoccupied hand you use the leverage of intact muscles to push the creatures that wander too close back so you can sink the glass into their eyes and through to their brain which seems to stop them. You count fifteen creatures making their way toward the truck but don’t notice the way the two base members stare at you as you splatter blood around. You struggle but manage to finish putting six monsters to rest while blondie and Jake get the rest of them.

Breathing heavily through your nose, you take a moment to collect yourself and go to slip the glass back into your pocket. Blondie on the other hand catches you and grips your wrist, pressing down on your tendons to force you to drop the weapon. You hiss and shove your non-dominant hand out catching her in the shoulder and surprising her enough to stumble back and release your wrist.

“Don’t ever touch me like that again unless you want to lose a chunk of flesh.”

She scowls and bares her teeth at you, and in return, you raise your chin in defiance. Jake hears the commotion, peeks across the bed, and barks at the blonde girl, whose name you now know as Charlie, to do a head count. You frown, and climb into the bed without prompting, and fiddle with the scrap of shirt around your palm. Once everyone settles, the truck rumbles to life and starts its trek towards the base again. Once you see those tall white buildings, your heart starts to pick up pace again, and you slowly look around to map out escape routes. The road is bumpy, and you end up getting elbowed by a woman right into your ribs. You bite your tongue and focus forward gripping the knees of your jeans. Once the truck stops you think about bolting the second you're able, but the only issue is you are weaponless, and every single person here seems to have some sort of heavy weaponry on them.

You’re separated from the rest of the group, and your heart leaps in your throat closing off your airways until you’re lightheaded. This Jake guy seems to take notice, stops moving, and immediately guides you to sit down against the wall. You wave him off wanting to get to where you are going rather than prolong the wait anymore. You explain that you’re fine and would rather get to your death as quickly as possible which he wisely ignores. Guiding you further down the hall you pass by a room with a tall man in militant garb leaning against a desk. You wonder for a moment who he's talking to and what about until you make a turn and end up inside another room sans a desk. You take a step inside after Jake, and he gestures to a chair that sits in the middle of the room.

“Torture?”

He gives you a look, and you duck your head to try and spare yourself of his glare. He doesn't move his hand and even gestures again to get you to finally sit down. Sitting down you squeeze your knees again and tense your muscles as he walks behind you. His shotgun sits proudly against his hip as he walks around the room. After assessing you for a few laps he sits across from you on the only other piece of furniture in the room, a small office chair.

“Now normally we don’t take in outsiders who haven't proved their worth to my dad, but you handled yourself pretty well back there, and I know we could use someone like you at the Ranch. How did you learn to fight like that? You seemed comfortable with your weapon.”

“My dad was a survival nut. I grew up thinking the world was going to end my entire life. I know what I’m doing… for the most part.”

“Dad? I bet you want to go back to him. We can give you a bag of supplies and a map to wherever you need to go.”

You simply shrug, not particularly interested in that option. “Not particularly, I’m more interested in this Ranch. Is it fortified?”

He smiles and leans back in the chair spreading his legs slightly not sensing you to be a threat. You didn't feel like a threat, but maybe you could get the upper hand if you really needed to.

“My dad is also a survivalist. He created a Survivalist Organization to keep our community safe -if-.. when the government fell. We have plenty of supplies, natural resources, and manpower. If you say yes, I promise you will be protected. It’s completely safe.”

You take a moment to study his face unsure of what you were looking for. A twitch. Or maybe a sign that he was lying. It didn't matter in the end the feeling in your gut had faded away to nothing more than nerves at the idea of living somewhere completely foreign to you. So you agreed. Agreed to start a new life far away from your home, away from your friends, away from your dad. Wow. You are told to sit tight for a minute while Jake makes plans for your exit.

Moments after he walked through the door, you decide to stand and stretch your legs. At least that’s what you were going to use when you got caught. Taking a second you falter at the door before pushing your legs forward, spurring yourself on. You make your way down the windowless hallway before taking a left turn back the way you came originally. Turning your head you do a double take as you notice the tall militant man now standing outside the door looking over something in a notebook. Fuck, already? You barely got down the hallway, and now you were gonna get in trouble without ever really seeing anything. You try to back away, make it seem like you weren't there, but you had walked too far forward, and his peripheral vision picked you up.

“Hey!” The man snaps before his face settles and softens when he realizes who he’s talking to, “Sorry, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

You hug your elbows looking down the hallway at him. You weren't too far away, but you each had to raise your voice a little to hear one another.

“No, I’m sorry. I was just stretching my legs. I didn’t even realize there were people here. I thought it was just Jake.”

You felt a little too formal using his first name like this, but you didn't know his last, and you sure as hell weren't calling him captain or whatever rank he was… is? You stop getting lost in thought when the man before you takes a few steps towards you only pausing when he notices you take a step back at his sudden intrusion of your personal space. He apologizes again, “Jake brought you here?”

“Yeah, about twenty minutes ago, if the clock in that side room is correct.”

He tilts his head in the direction you point and takes a moment to rack his brain for some type of answer.

“Side room… yeah, yeah. I changed the batteries the moment we got here. It's the only workable clock that we could find.”

He is gentle with his words, providing you with a little bit of comfort. This comfort doesn't fade even as you notice the glint of something off in his eyes. His voice has dropped to something soothing which allows him the opportunity to take another step forward as you don't move away from him this time.

“Why don’t I take you back to the room? I’m sure my brother will be back any minute now. Oh, I’m Troy.” He gestures for you to introduce yourself or follow him, you're not quite sure, so you take the first route, not wanting to be stuck in that stuffy room again.

Brothers? Are they both military? This one’s dressed like he is. Hmmm, you wonder if Jake was lying about being a lawyer. They didn't look alike at first, but you can notice the similarities now that you get an up-close look at this man's face. The angular jawline, the bright blue eyes, the narrow bridge of their nose. It all connected, and you felt awkward once again. Maybe the whole compound was a family. At this point anything was possible, and you feared the answer. A family would be nearly impossible to integrate into. You feel featherlight touches caressing your arm, and the feeling breaks you out of your thoughts,. Fast. You jump back, tripping over your own feet and nearly falling flat on your ass. His hand shoots out but immediately retreats remembering why you were bent over trying to catch your balance in the first place. Once you've regained enough control of your limbs you shoot -the man- Troy a look of pure disgust.

“Don’t do that." It was the nicest way to say it without biting off one of his fingers. His face holds no emotion for a minute before he seems to regain sentience and takes a step back. He apologizes and offers to go find his brother. Face set you watch him not wait for an answer before turning with his tail tucked between his legs. You decide that the small stuffy room isn't so bad and eagerly make your way toward it.

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header made by me :3

[stagefullofentertainment]

Christmas Time pt. 12

We did it, you guys! Tomorrow is Christmas! I'm really happy that you spend this time with me and the gang. Today we finish 12 days before Christmas with Secret Santa!

Charlie: Are you ready?

There were roars of agreement from Angel and Niffty, thumbs up from Husk and calm nods from Vaggie and Alastor. Charlie herself beamed with joy, finally getting to exchange gifts with her friends. Other demon royalty weren't interested in this and she only got the chance to give presents to her parents but it lasted till her teen years. Then she met Vaggie and started celebrating Christmas again. Not as fancy but she didn't complain. It was the people that made the holidays, not gifts. Now, she could make more people happy and spread holiday cheer!

Charlie: If you guys don't mind, can I be the first to give my present?

Alastor: What if I want to be first? *Asked resting his head on his hand*

Charlie: Well, okay...?

Alastor: *Scoffs* I'm merely messing with you. Go ahead.

Charlie: Umm, okay?

She looked back at Alastor once more, searching for honesty in his expression. He just waved his hand as in *go ahead*. Nobody else seemed to mind and Charlie sighed, calming her excitement down.

Charlie: So, the person I got was... Niffty!

Charlie dashed to Niffty with a huge gift bag in her hand who was still processing everything. Charlie hugged Niffty and gave the bag to her.

Charlie: C'mon, open it!

Niffy nodded eagerly and looked inside, not even knowing what she could possibly get. The first thing on which her eyes fell of was a big red plush popping from the bag. She took it first to investigate. It was a huge red panda plushy, half sized to Niffty. She couldn't help but squeal out of excitement. It was so cute!

Niffty: Thank you so much! It's adorable!

Charlie: *Giggles* I'm glad you liked it! Look what else is there.

Niffty: There's more?

She reached deeper into the bag, pulling a winter themed food container. She opened it and found gingerbread cookies. Some were decorated with Christmas tree, some with snowflakes and some made into resemblance of Hazbin residents. She took one who looked similar to her in admiration.

Angel: Wait, is it me or are these made similar to us?

Charlie: Yep! Some of them are. I made them myself!

Angel: *Laughs* You better got my shape right.

Charlie: I tried my best! There should be one more thing there, Niffty!

Niffty carefully put the container on the table while plushy was occupying chair next to her. She took a photo album which had handwritten "Merry Christmas" on it. Niffty opened it and felt like she was going to cry out of happiness. It had different photos of her friends with Charlie's handwritten messages here and there. To no surprise, there was only Alastor missing who hated photos but Charlie still drew a deer or radio in some pages.

Niffty: Thank you so much! I don't think that I have ever gotten so many presents!

Charlie: You're welcome!

They both engaged in a hug which was bit tricky due to height difference but they managed. Niffty felt beyond happy to get such presents from the princess herself. Sometimes Niffty couldn't believe that she actually knows Charlie personally. Benefits of being in dept to overlord? Hardly so.

When the hug ended and Charlie walked back to her sitting place, Niffty pulled two medium sized boxes wrapped in Christmas paper, tied with ribbon from her side. She stood up on her chair to be more visible.

Niffty: Alright, I got.. Husk!

She ran to him, while Husk thanked the universe that his Santa wasn't Angel or Alastor. Niffty handed Husk the two boxes, jumping happily.

Niffty: I really hope you like these!

Husk felt a thug on his heartstrings. Seeing someone be this joyous and wanting to gift something wonderful to him was quite a rare occurrence. He never was gifted anything just for the holidays, it was always as a way to gain him over or instead of money. Husk felt a tear forming but he shaken his head and thankfully took the gift.

Husk: Thanks.

He carefully untied the ribbon and accidentally saw Alastor piercingly looking at him. Alastor's expression was mocking, indicating that he saw through Husk's random head shake. Husk decided to ignore him and took the lid from the first box. There laid a brand new top hat, in the colour of dark grey with silver ribbon around it.

Niffty: I thought that you would like a new hat for a chance of pace.

Husk delicately took the hat out for closer inspection. It looked really good and well-made. He took his usual top hat and changed it with a new one. He looked at Niffty with half a smile.

Husk: Well, how do I look?

Angel: Good enough to get me on a date!

Husk looked at Angel annoyed while others snickered.

Niffty: It fits you! Now, open the other one!

Husk: Alright, alright, slow down.

He took the second box. Again, very carefully, Husk opened it. Inside he found beautifully packaged bottle of "Sunset Rum". He could already feel the delicious taste of it. He also noticed a small package at the bottom. Husk took it and upon looking closely he understood what it was, making him smile even more. It was a set of playing cards. Not ordinary! They were quite fancy-with gold outlines and silverish backgrounds.

Niffty: Maybe with a new set of cards you could win more?

Alastor: Ha! Good luck with that!

Husk ignored Alastor's comment and did the unthinkable - willingly hugged a person in years. He put down the cards and bear hugged Niffty. Now Husk let that tear slid.

Husk: *Whispers* Thank you, Niffty.

Niffty: *Whispers back* You're welcome, Husk. I also cleaned the bar yesterday for you.

Husk: *Chuckles* And I wondered how did it get spotless. I really appreciate it.

Niffty: Only the best for friends, right?

Husk: Right.

They let go of the embrace. Well, mostly Husk because Niffty wasn't able to hug him back properly because of his tight hug. She walked back to her seat while Husk took his presents from the top of the table.

Husk: I guess it's my turn. I got... Angel...

Angel: Hey! Where is your enthusiasm, pal?

Husk walked to Angel and compared to Niffty his step was dreadful. He handed Angel a bottle wrapped in Christmas paper and two small boxes.

Angel: Wow, you hate me that much or what?

Husk: What the hell? Why?

Angel: A bottle? Really? You took from here, huh?

Husk: No! I bought it.

Angel: *Continues to tease* Let's say that. And only two boxes? Am I worth that little to you?

Husk: Can you imagine how hard it is to think of a present to someone like you?

Angel: No.

Husk: Without being overly dirty?

Angel: Yeah, that would be harder.

Husk: Plus, these weren't that cheap, you know.

Angel: I'll be the judge of that.

Angel decided to check the bottle first. He unwrapped the paper and saw a white medium bottle of Vermouth. He recalled that they didn't have it here in hotel, so Husk was telling the truth about buying it.

Angel: How did you guess I like this?

Husk: *Shrugs* You don't seem to enjoy heavy drinks that much, plus you're Italian.

Angel nodded approvingly, putting the bottle aside.

While that was happening, Charlie noticed a small paper laying beside her right hand. "Not again", she thought, silently reading it while everyone looked interested in what Husk gifted Angel. "Well, who do you think it will be?" was written there. In usual fashion, the paper evaporated into thin air. Charlie turned to look at Alastor who shrugged and proceeded to look at Angel. Charlie did the same but she failed to notice a cracking smirk on Alastor's "interested" facade.

Next Angel chose to open the littlest box. Inside he found a white bow tie with pink stripes. He couldn't help himself but to open the last box which was bit larger. Inside he found long gloves in exactly the same design.

Angel: *Interested* Where did you find these?

Husk: I didn't. They're custom made.

Charlie: *Surprised* You know how to sew?

Husk: No! One guy owned me a favour.

Angel: I! Love! It!

Angel couldn't believe that someone would do this for him. He had gotten presents before but they were out of gratitude in his business. Maybe Charlie's Secret Santa idea wasn't so corny. He excitedly stood and stepped closer to Husk.

Angel: Give me a hug, big guy!

Husk: Slow down!

But Husk himself was too slow. He was hugged by Angel in similar manner that he hugged Niffty. Husk succumbed to his fate and lightly hugged Angel, as much as he could make it. Angel let him short after, feeling that Husk wasn't a hugger. As much as Angel wanted to try his new accessories out, there was presents to give out. He took a Christmas gift bag from behind of his chair and announced.

Angel: The lovely person who I got was... Vaggie!

He casually walked over to her while everyone debated how many dirty stuff there could be. Especially Vaggie.

Angel: Here ya go! Merry Christmas!

Vaggie: *Suspiciously asked* Can I open this? Is it appropriate?

Angel: Duh, who do you think I am?

Vaggie: Yourself?

Angel: Touche.

Vaggie slowly looked inside the gift bag. She didn't notice anything too bad right out of the bat. Two boxes and it looked like some sort of candy. She decided to go with the candy first. Vaggie pulled it out and it was a large chocolate bar with nut mix from her favourite brand. She looked at Angel surprised.

Vaggie: You remembered my favourite chocolate?

Angel: Of course!

Vaggie: Well, thank you!

Angel: Don't thank me just yet.

His tone suggested Vaggie that there is something not so appropriate there, so she decided to open the boxes in the bag. She looked in the first one and there was a really fancy knife. She excitedly took it out to look better at it in the light. It had intriquently detailed rose design on it's handle while the blade was black.

Angel: I thought that you could refreshen your knife collection with this bad boy.

Vaggie: That is actually a good gift. Thank you.

Angel: Ah, ah, ah! What did I say?

Vaggie glanced at him mistrustfully. This one she decided to open extra carefully. Inside the box she found a brand note with name, it read "Vibrator Necklace". Vaggie immediately looked at Angel with anger and embarrassment in her eyes.

Vaggie: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Angel: Hey, you'll thank me after using that. Believe me, it does wonders.

Charlie: *Tried to peak in the back* What is it?

Vaggie: *Pulls the bag away from her* A reason for me to try out that knife!

Angel: Wow, girl, calm down! I bought it with pure intentions.

Vaggie: Yeah, right!

Alastor: *Murmurs to himself* Wish I had something to eat while watching this show.

Charlie: Alright, guys! Calm down! Both of you!

Vaggie: *Breathes in and out* Alright. Thank you for your gifts, Angel, but now please go away or I might use the knife.

Angel: Won't I get a hug?

Vaggie: *Glares with the look that could kill*

Angel: Alright, just checking.

Angel went back to his seat while Vaggie drank a cup of water to calm herself down. She sighs and takes out small gift bag and a medium sized box.

Vaggie: Okay, so I'll cut to the chase. I got Alastor.

Alator: Oh? How delightful!

Vaggie moved to Alastor who wasn't sitting that far from her, right to the right of Charlie. She gave him the presents which Alastor took with great interest in his eyes.

Vaggie: I did not really know what you like, so I had to improvise.

Alastor: Well, let us see how you did.

Alastor decided to open the bag first. Inside he found a can of an expensive brand of coffee and a pack of dried venison strips. He raised an eyebrow out of surprise that Vaggie noticed his food preferences. Then he moved on to the box.

Inside it, Alastor found a true replica of 1920's small radio. If he was surprised before, now you could triple it! He didn't expect to see these outside of his room or radio station.

Alastor: Well, my dear, we can conclude that you succeeded. These are great!

Vaggie: But you haven't seen it fully.

Alastor: Oh?

Vaggie turned the radio on and it played a jazz song that Alastor recognized was from his teenage years. She turned the dial to another station and it played the blues which were popular right before his death.

Vaggie: Try it yourself.

Intrigued, Alastor turned the dial to various stations. They all played songs from his time period, none of that nowadays junk music.

Vaggie: Charlie helped me made it. We know your feelings and opinions about music, so we made a radio that plays only your type of songs.

Alastor looked at them both. Vaggie was standing calmly, while Charlie smiled at him. He looked back to the radio.

Alastor: I like it! This is the best Christmas gift I got since my mother passed away! Thank you!

He smiled sincerely to them and both girls could see the difference between his regular smile and this one. Vaggie nodded answering with her own soft smile and returned to her seat. Alastor turned the radio for the time being and chuckled.

Alastor: Well, now I feel bad. Good one, Charlie.

Charlie: Huh?

Alastor looked at her and with a snap he teleported his presents to her. There were three boxes - large, medium and small stacked on top of each other in red wrapping paper.

Alastor: I got you.

Charlie: So you weren't lying that day?

Alastor: I'm afraid I wasn't, dear.

Charlie: And all this time you were making fun of me?

Alastor: A bit, I'll admit.

Charlie: *Shakes her head* You bastard.

Alastor: Guilty as charged. But maybe those could count as an apology?

Charlie: We'll see.

She carefully opened the first box. Inside there was a box of her favourite tea.

Charlie: *Smirks* Good start.

She then proceed to open medium box. There was a work calendar for the next year. The book was in black and white with nice lining inside. There was a matching pen to.

Alastor: I thought that you needed a new one.

Charlie: I did! Thanks, Al!

She tried to guess what could be in the biggest box but Charlie didn't expect this. There was a vinyl record of David Bowie's "Aladdin Sane" album. She gasped and started jumping happily.

Charlie: Holy shit! How did you know that I love Bowie?

Alastor: Well, I don't really know who he is but you listen to him a lot and I asked Vaggie one time who was it. She said Bowie and I decided to get you this young man's finest album. At least, that's what the guy in the music store said was his best one.

Charlie: I love it! Thank you so much!

Charlie stood up and opened her arms.

Charlie: Permission to hug you?

Alastor though for a moment and stood up.

Alastor: Well, it's Christmas, so, go ahead.

Charlie quickly hugged him around his torso, Alastor even got taken back few steps. He returned the hug very lightly. After few seconds he patted Charlie's back and let go, Charlie did the same.

Charlie: You are forgiven. But I'll remember this!

Alastor: I believe that.

Charlie: Now, how about a Christmas photo?

Everyone gathered round the hotel's main Christmas tree while Charlie used her magic to set up a camera. She even made Alastor be in the photo, threatening to only play Christmas songs everyday. Well, holiday spirit helped too. They took multiple pictures but Alastor was only in one of them because nobody made him promise to be in all of them.

After that, Charlie clapped twice and the whole table became filled with everyone's favourite Christmas dishes. The feast was held with laughs, talks and music.

Thank you for reading these 12 Christmas days! I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing. Merry Christmas!

[darkbackalley]

Chris Mclean x Male reader - Nerves

Warnings: None. (Except it hasn’t been edited?)Fem-aligned dni

Chris was only informed of the changes that very day, so he wasn’t appalled at what happened, just very surprised. So when instead of a homeschooled Canadian-raised boy, he found himself face to face with a 6’7 Behemoth of a man, he was visibly shaken. Yo… What’s up man? He asked his introductory question. Not much, dude! The man replied with a smile. Although I thought we were going to a resort? Chris turned towards the cast. Everybody, meet Y/n! The group mumbled a greeting as he joined them to watch the other guests arrive.

Now that the groups had been created, with Bridgette, Courtney, DJ, Duncan, Eva, Geoff, Y/n, Harold, Izzy, Sadie, and Tyler on the Killer Bass and Beth, Cody, Gwen, Heather, Justin, Katie, Leshawna, Lindsay, Noah, Owen and Trent on the Screaming Gophers, All the Campers stood on a cliff in their bathing suits while Chris explained what was going to happen. Since the Killerbass was to go first, no one from the group wanted to jump first. Y/n, looking around, sighed and said I’ll jump. But if I die, I’m suing. He said, giving Chris a look that meant business. Chris was terrified, but at the same time trying to figure out how someone can be so buff and look… appealing? No. He wasn’t thinking about a contestant like that.

Y/n stood on the cliff, looking down, before he cracked his knuckled and stepped back until he had a clear runway. Then, he sent it. Luckily, he managed to get into the target hole and swim out before the sharks got too vicious. Once the entirety of the team had jumped, they struggled to get the boxes to the campsite in time. Either someone was gone or someone *cough* Courtney *cough* got hurt, but Y/n had already carried two crates to the campsite and opened them. Chris walked up while he waited for the rest of his team to strike casual banter. So, Y/n, you’ve done a lot of work here, and the rest of your team isn’t even here? What’s up with that?’’ “ Well, They’re doing what they can and I’m really just trying to help as best as I can. Besides I can be checking out the competitions while I’m here”. He replied. -And I can check out other people too. He said looking at Chris with a grin. The man in question turned and walked away due to the blush on his face and wobbly knees.

Both teams were hard at work, but in the end, the Screaming Gophers won. Since the losing team had to eliminate someone, everyone was on edge that night. Y/n couldn’t sleep so he went outside to contemplate the day. What he didn’t expect was Chris standing at the waters edge throwing stones into the water. “Hey.” Y/n said as he walked up and sat beside Chris. The aforementioned man looked over at him and frowned. “Hey… Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Big day tomorrow.” “Couldn’t sleep. Not with something like this, it’s always stressful went you have to part ways with someone.” Chris looked at the (Hair) haired boy and nodded. “I hear ya. When the contestants get to be far along in the competition, it’s almost sad to see them go.” Y/n’s eyes lit up. “Hey Chris. What if I threw in the towel and voted myself off? That way, I wouldn’t really have to do that. Besides, then I can just go home.” “You can’t just do that!” Chris argued. “These kids look up to you!” Then he whispered to y/n “I heard Izzy call you dad.” Y/n Chuckled. ”I guess not then. But my nerves have calmed down I think. Thanks” Y/n was about to head off to bed, but first he pulled Chris into a hug and slipped something in his pocket. The host returned the hug before giving the taller man a look that said ‘what’d you slip me?’ “My number.” Y/n smiled at him and turned around, only to be faced with the other campers. “Wha-“ “YAY!” Izzy cheered! Y/n’s not single anymore!” Before running away. Y/n rolled his eyes and made his way back to his cabin

[bb-8]

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary:  You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

[butwhyduh]

Red Sun

Kon Kent x batsis!Reader

Summary: The prompt was “this isn’t you”

Warning: angst, death.

Your eyes stung as water fell in them as you stared up to the roof in the rain. Your enemy was standing there, almost falling over with exhaustion. You were similar.

“Give up now. Before you get yourself killed,” Connor called up beside you. He wasn’t as bad off but still tired. The villain laughed.

“I only wish I could stay for the show,” they said before moving their hands in a complex motion while speaking a language you couldn’t understand. The palm of their hand glowed red and you jumped away to avoid being it. It didn’t hit you, by a long shot. It hit Connor straight in the chest.

“No,” you gasped looking him over for injuries. Nothing was visibly wrong with him. “Superboy are you okay?”

He turned to you and his eyes glowed red. You immediately pushed your panic button on your suit. The villain cackled and ran off with renewed energy.

“Superboy, what’s going on?”

Connor just looked at you coldly and walked towards you. Much the way prey animals can sense danger and instinctively runs away, your body moved backwards from your boyfriend. You sensed something wrong in him.

“Hey, what are you doing?” You asked a little panicky. If he was cursed or brainwashed or whatever, you had maybe 5 minutes before Kryptonite was needed to save you. Your nearest Bat was Jason in Gotham and that was at least 20 minutes away. He took a step towards you and you jumped back.

“Connor, you know me. This isn’t you,” you said, trying to plead with him. You cursed yourself for not listening to Bruce. He warned you to have Kryptonite. But your boyfriend would get sick and weak around it and you trusted him. But this isn’t him.

He curled a hand into a fist and punched towards you almost lazily. You barely dodged it and realized he was backing you into a corner of the alley. He punched again and this time his lazy punch hit the wall and bits of brick fell to the ground. That punch alone could kill you.

“Connor, hey. Don’t do this. You’re stronger than that,” you begged. He hit out and you tried to duck but instead you were grabbed and thrown bodily into the bricks.

“Connor!” You gasped. You tried to push up with your arms only to fall bodily. One was definitely broken. You trembled as you pulled yourself up. “Stop.”

There wasn’t a single glance of humanity in his eyes. They were red and mad from the magical influence. He grabbed you and slung you again. Your head hit brick and you heard a ringing as your vision spun. Head injury. Blood pooled from your nose. Your boyfriend was going to slowly beat you to death. Great.

“Connor, Kon. I love you,” you whimpered as he pulled you up by your shoulder. You squirmed in his grasp as your head throbbed and your arm burned. You held it close to your body. Connor’s other hand wrapped around your throat and you grab at it with your good hand. It was like pulling on concrete.

“No, no,” you pleaded. Tears burned your eyes and not even the cold rain could soothe the burned you felt from his hands. He was burning up. Fingers tightened on your throat and your eyes went wide. You frantically clawed at any part of him you could reach. You didn’t even manage to leave a single mark. Your brain throbbed and lungs burned.

It wouldn’t be long now. The burn in your lungs stretched onward and was so prevalent that you couldn’t even feel your broken arm and injured head. Your hand stopped it’s frantic scratching to rest on Connor’s arm. Black spots darkened your vision. A few body spasms and your consciousness left you. Connor held your body for a few more minutes before letting you drop to the ground.

The spell broke and he gasped with sudden realization. He scooped you up. “No,” he said. “No. No.” He laid you on the concrete and started CPR. His movements were jerky as he tried to bring you back. “Come on. Come on!”

“What’s going on!” Jason asked as Connor did chest compressions. Conor didn’t answer but continued with tears in his eyes. Bringing you back was the only option. Jason noticed ligature marks around your neck and the concrete chunks on the ground. He pulled a shot of epinephrine from his belt and pushed Connor back to shoot you in the heart.

You didn’t move or breath or anything so Connor continued compressions and rescue breaths. Jason pulled out a second one. This was all he had. His hands shook a little. His little sister was dead. If this didn’t work, you weren’t coming back. Jason stabbed your heart with the second shot and a full second later your body spasmed and you gasped in a breath. Connor let out a sob before grabbing you in his arms. Your breath rattled heavily.

2 days later you woke up in the cave medical bay with blankets on top of you and an IV in your arm. Heart monitors softly beeped normally.

“She’s awake,” you heard Tim say. Footsteps came towards the room and Cassandra came towards your bed.

“How are you?” She asked giving you a glass of water.

“Okay,” you said hoarsely. You winced in pain before drinking a little of the water. It burned and soothed your throat. She looked at the monitors and IV.

“Everything looks expected,” she said and you nodded. You were already tired and wanting to fall asleep again. “I’m glad you are awake. You scared us for a while. You have a visitor.”

You looked up to see Connor standing in the doorway. Despite the pain, you shrunk away from him. The heart monitor beeped angrily and you gasped out a “no” in fear.

“Go,” Cass said, pushing him from the room. Connor’s face crumpled and he left.

“It’s okay,” Cass said pulling you into a hug. Tim suddenly appeared in the doorway. He relaxed upon seeing you okay but shaken up.

“I’ll talk to Kon,” he said. Connor stood by the computer bay with a look of dejection. “Hey, it’s okay. She’s disoriented and needs some time to be okay.”

“It was me. I did it. They cursed me with some spell and I attacked her,” Connor said with his head hung low. He wouldn’t look at Tim.

“You did that?” Jason asked from across the room. Connor had been so distraught that no one had asked him to report from the field.

“Magic. I had no control,” he said.

“Get the fuck out of here,” jason said. “You killed her and if I wasn’t there, she’d be 6 feet under.”

Connor looked away and grabbed his jacket. He roughly shoved it on and left the cave.

“You don’t think he feels bad enough?” Tim asked Jason.

“He can feel bad somewhere else,” Jason answered. “You didn’t see her. She was dead.”

“I know-“

“She’s asleep again,” Cass said interrupting them both. “Connor is also a victim. He couldn’t control.”

Jason sighed and then nodded in agreement.

“It will take time,” Cass answered. “For them both.”

“Perfect timing for you to file paperwork then. You’re very behind,” Bruce said to Cass. She sighed and gave him a pout. “Not a chance. Find a computer.”

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

All Might

There was an ache in your shoulder despite the painkillers. It was persistent, a constant reminder that your time in U.A. was beginning to lower your reaction speed. Perhaps you should consider returning to a full-time career in the hero world instead of taking random jobs here and there.

Sighing, you finished up with your costume and opened the door to find none other than Principle Nezu waiting for you.

“Great timing!” he chirped. “I was about to come and tell you that you’ll be sharing your second-year physical training class today.”

“The class that begins in twenty minutes?”

“That very one. When I found out that you had injured yourself, I thought that it would be best for you to take on an assistant of sort.” Nezu hummed softly to himself, as if wondering if he should continue. “And perhaps it will be a good experience for Toshinori to see how one can balance their time.”

You chuckled, catching onto the principle’s plan. “I don’t think a hero of All Might’s stature would have anything to learn from somebody like me.”

“There’s no doubt that he’s the better hero –“

“You could put that more nicely.”

“But you have far more experience teaching,” Nezu finished. “You take it easy to ensure your continued health and even though you whine about your lack of excitement, you never go out and chase it.”

That was true. Every year, you told the principle that you would be quitting and each time, he would laugh and tell you that you never would. You blamed the students. They were way too easy to get attached to.

All Might was waiting at the training grounds, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. The latter looked almost painted on. He absolutely towered over you, seemingly taller in person.

“We haven’t met properly before,” you said, giving your name. “But may I just say that I have endless respect for your heroic accomplishments.”

He laughed proudly. “Thank you. Nezu says that you got injured during a fight with a villain, is everything alright?”

There was something about his voice that you didn’t quite like. It just sounded so patently fake. Perhaps that was why you hadn’t been surprised when the news about his true form was shared amongst the faculty. It seemed to you that it should have been a given. Nobody spoke like he did in their day to day lives.

“It’s a shoulder injury,” you said. “In a similar line, you can drop the All Might moniker for a short while if you want. This class is incapable of arriving less than ten minutes late.”

“That’s alright! I’m sure this is a far more useful form.”

“Suit yourself,” you said with a nod. You rolled your shoulder and winced. “I’m going to need to have you taking over the majority of the hands-on training if that’s alright with you? If I push myself now, I’m just going to do more damage to the muscles.”

All Might gave an affirmative and then pondered your words. It was unsurprising when he seemingly vanished into a cloud of smoke, dropping the vast majority of his muscles and showing a far-more human façade.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he acknowledged. “Some rest before teaching would be easier on my injuries.”

You smiled. “The last thing you want to do is let these students think they’re strong enough to take you on just yet. Don’t need that going to their heads.”

Endeavor

It was an accident that led to your first encounter with the recently elected number one hero. And it had mostly been as a result of a very long day filled with endless bad luck.

You had been walking through the parking garage after having coffee spilled on you, losing your keys, and nearly breaking your ankle when an escalator stopped working. It was overall an awful day. And it was about to get even worse.

It must have been as a result of some kind of villain but the exact situation escaped you. All that you knew was that somebody got thrown from out of nowhere. They flew into one of the pillars and cracked it. You jumped and immediately rushed over to them. It was only once you were right beside him that you realised the fire was part of him.

“You’re Endeavor…” you breathed. “Are you alright?”

The hero stood, clearly shaken. A deep scowl covered his face. He was much, much taller than you had thought he would ever be. “Get out of here before you get hurt.”

Before either of you could do anything else though, the ground seemed to tremble, much like an earthquake. You looked up wearily. This was the ground floor so it wasn’t like you could fall through anywhere.

And then the ceiling started to crumble.

You barely had time to react, just screwing your eyes shut and hoping for the best. A wave of heat washed over you. Dust filled your lungs and you coughed as all around you, a cacophony of collapsing rubble filled the air.

An unnatural silence took over.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. It was far too dark with a flickering light illuminating a large cavern of rubble held up by a few of the pillars that were still standing. Powder swirled around you, filling your lungs and making you cough heavily. Then you noticed the reason that you hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch.

Endeavor stood over you, shielding you entirely. He showed no visible discomfort but as you stared, you realised that part of his suit had been ripped and blood trickled down his side.

A few seconds passed and he moved away. In the tight space, he was unable to even stand straight. “Damn it,” he cursed. “There’s no way that Hawks can move any of this nonsense. We’re going to be stuck here until rescue teams arrive.”

You sunk down slowly, sitting against something sharp and putting your hand over your mouth. “I’m going to die,” you whispered. “There’s no air here…”

“Don’t be dramatic,” the pro-hero snapped. “We have plenty of time before the air runs out. If it was just me, I could blast through here in no time.”

“Why can’t you?”

He stared at you as though you were stupid. “Either I would risk bringing the rest of this concrete down on your head or you would stand too close and get burnt. Somehow, I don’t think you would prefer either of those options.”

You shook your head and tried to hold back tears. This day had been worse than any other in your life. Should you call your family and friends? Was it worth worrying them just to hear their voices? Endeavor didn’t seem worried so maybe you should just trust that you would get out and everything would be fine. Or maybe you would die and –

Your thoughts were cut off by him suddenly appearing in front of you. “Relax,” he said. “If you panic, you’re just going to make the entire situation worse.”

“We’re trapped under concrete,” you said. “We could die.”

“You’re not going to die. Now stop being pathetic and find a way to occupy yourself that doesn’t cause a panic attack.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright.”

He nodded, moving considerably further away and then his flames flickered off. And that was your first meeting with Endeavor. Surprisingly, you ended up speaking until you were rescued.

Eraserhead

It had all begun years ago.

You remembered distinctly how you had been sitting in the garden and watching the bees happily buzz past. It was a warm day with a slight saltiness to the air. A perfect time to enjoy the summer as though you had no worries in the world.

Conversation filled the air and you perked up, recognising one of the voices. You had only managed to stand up when a blur of blue hair slammed into your side, pulling you into a tight hug with a happy shout of your name. Laughter filled the air as you nearly fell, unable to even hug back.

“Oboro!” you giggled. “I thought you were only getting back next week!”

He finally let you go and shot you a smile that made the sun look dim. “I was but then my parents said my friends could stay over! Come meet them.”

Oboro had been your closest friend for years but since going to U.A., you had seen less and less of him. That wasn’t to say that you hadn’t kept in contact of course but you missed him greatly.

His friends were… not what you expected.

The exceptionally loud blond was Hizashi Yamada and his quirk was volume-based. He greeted you with a booming shout, apparently having been told about you several times before arriving.

But Shota Aizawa interested you far more. He didn’t speak much and you never did find out his quirk when you were younger. When you’d asked why he wanted to be a hero, he just told you that he liked it. The rest of the week, you developed a bit of a crush on him and spent most of your time trying to impress him.

When the week ended, you didn’t see him again for a very long time and the next time you saw him, it was under circumstances you had never even imagined.

You were wearing a veil to hide your face. There was no dramatic rain or dark thunder on the day of the funeral. Rather fittingly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You liked to imagine that was Oboro’s final gift. A beautiful day to celebrate him.

Yamada had put his hand on your shoulder, subdued and quiet for the first time. He was a pro-hero now and you often saw his face on magazines.

Soon, he left to speak to others and you remained by the grave with only one other.

“Being a hero is more dangerous than I ever thought,” you said, not sure why you were speaking but feeling the urge to regardless. “You and Yamada have to stay as safe as you can, alright? He would want that.”

Aizawa glared at you from the corner of his eye. “How would you know that?”

“Because you were the most important people in the world to him,” you said. “Of course that’s what he would want.”

Aizawa didn’t speak anymore but after a while, he turned to leave. Before going, he paused and looked as though he wanted to say or do something. You met his gaze. It felt as though he could see straight through your veil, revealing the tears that streaked your face. The atmosphere wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just sad.

Still, standing there and just existing helped you to remember the loss wasn’t just your own. When Aizawa left, you turned back to Oboro’s gravestone feeling less alone in the world.

You were going to miss him like hell but you wouldn’t be remembering him by yourself.

Fatgum

As a solitary and underground hero, it was quite rare that you were contacted for big jobs. Rarer still that you took them instead of passing them on.

But something was different about this time.

This time, you had a personal vendetta drawing you to one of your least-favourite jobs – working with other heroes. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with them but many weren’t in it for actually helping people. That put a bad taste in your mouth.

The job wasn’t technically being led by you purely because the information had come through a larger agency. They hadn’t wanted to pass it off to you alone so now you were sitting in the briefing room, listening to them going over everything that your investigations had revealed. No credit given, of course.

You stood toward the end and offered a simple warning. The villain that you were after had little concern about causing collateral. If anything, he relished in it. Your warning was primarily targeted at some of the heroes whom you knew dealt more with casual villains.

Many of them got overwhelmed when they came up against drug dealers and sex traffickers instead of pickpockets.

And then everybody dispersed, each having their own orders about how they would contribute to a safe arrest.

Leaving you alone. At least, you thought you were alone until somebody spoke behind you.

“Do you know what always calms me down? Taiyaki.”

You startled, though you didn’t let it become noticeable. Instead you turned to find yourself absolutely dwarfed by the BMI hero, Fatgum. Somebody you had always known about but never gotten a chance to meet.

“Do I really look that stressed?” you enquired.

He chuckled. “Not to be rude, but you definitely do.”

You sighed and looked at the documents in your hands. It was probably best that you didn’t have a mirror on you. “I’m worried about this case,” you said. “This guy has slipped through my hands a few too many times.”

Fatgum nodded. “I know how that feels but don’t worry too much. Everybody here is a capable hero and together, we’ll get him for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a few were capable but not everybody.

“You’re too cynical,” he reprimanded though there was little malice to his words. “You should try to trust the rest of us. At least for long enough to get a little sleep.”

You reached up and touched the bags that had formed under your eyes. “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be perfectly fine.” You shoved the documents into a small bag and slung it over your shoulder. Once you dropped them off at home, you could head back out and see if anything had popped up.

“It’s still pretty early,” Fatgum mused. “What are your plans?”

“I’m going to go and see if any of my sources have found new information.”

“Uwabami was meant to be doing that tonight accourding to the schedule,” he pointed out. “But you’re probably not going to be taking the night off. Why don’t you join me for my patrol? You can keep an ear to the ground and also not continue exhausting yourself.”

Sighing, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “We hardly know each other. Why are you so worried about me?”

He shrugged. “Too many heroes drive themselves crazy with this kind of stuff. Come on. My work study students are great, you’ll love them both.”

There was a reason that you didn’t take any of those on but admittedly his two students were entertaining.

Gang Orca

It was all for the sake of the cameras.

You had to remember that when you were getting up before the sun rose. Everything had to be absolutely perfect about your appearance. If it wasn’t then your little ruse would be seen through by every reporter with half a braincell.

Then you had to get to the setup site and speak with the marketing team secretly. You stood with the team leader to one side, discussing everything like old friends over a cup of coffee.

“Essentially, what we’re looking for is a very breathless and awe-struck victim,” he explained to you. “When you speak to the media, try and make it like you never even thought of Gang Orca much before but now his rescue has made him into your favourite. We’re trying to build a greater trust with the public especially amongst children.”

You pulled a face. “I don’t much like working with kids but for a small increase, I can become quite the lover of them for a short while.”

The guy smiled. “You’re one of the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you. You can get your increase.”

“Thank you. Now let’s get to work.”

You made your way to the ‘accident’ site. The costume team ripped your shirt and you had some fake blood dotted around your head. Nothing to make your injuries too severe but enough for some pity.

And then you climbed under the wreck and waited.

Approved photographers snapped their pictures as you were rescued from your metal prison by the tall Gang Orca. His strength alone was enough to pull the door free. He held his hand out to you while using his other to lift the car high enough to help you out. You made a show of crawling free and then stumbling a little.

With one hand on your head, you leaned against him and stared up with a grateful expression. Cameras flashed and he checked the wreck once more before leading you away for ‘medical treatment’.

Once out of view of the media circus, you straightened and wiped some of the fake blood away from your mouth. “Thank you for the rescue,” you said.

Gang Orca didn’t seem very happy about it at all. It was good that his hero image didn’t need too many smiles.

“I’m going to guess that this wasn’t really your idea?”

He sighed. “No. I don’t like the need to fake rescues when there are real people who should be getting help from a hero.”

“But those people aren’t getting paid to better the public’s opinion of you,” you said. “Twenty minutes here can be what knocks you off lists like ‘scariest heroes’ and similar stuff. That way, you get even more opportunities to save people.”

You couldn’t tell if he was grimacing or not but he definitely appeared to be. It made sense. While some heroes relished in the easier work, many didn’t like the media part of their jobs.

“If you’re happy with it, I’d like your autograph,” you said. “It’ll help me sell the whole situation a lot easier.”

“Alright.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t have a warm opinion of the media either,” you said. “They’re vultures who benefit from the fall of good heroes. What I, and others, do helps stop the best from being sidelined just because they’re intimidating or unmarketable. You’re in this for the right reason but the news organisations don’t care about that.”

He sighed deeply. “It’s unfortunate that you’re right. Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to be happy with these kinds of arrangements.”

“Few people are.”

Hawks

Being a photographer was competitive work, especially in a world where people could have quirks allowing them to grow cameras from their bodies.

You had to go the extra mile in order to compete with them and carve out a name for yourself. Either you had to be there first or you had to see something that nobody else did. A good intuition never led you astray.

And so, when you found yourself walking down the right street late one afternoon, you just knew that it was time to take out your camera.

The event was nothing catastrophic. Indeed, it seemed that the main danger was people’s stupidity. A fire had started on the bottom floor of an office building and instead of waiting for first responders to do their jobs, people were choosing to make things more difficult by climbing out of windows and stuff like that.

Soon enough, heroes were on the scene and you had your camera ready.

Naturally, Backdraft was the first to arrive and you got some great photos of the rescue hero doing what he did best. The light from the flames perfectly illuminated the hero and made the entire situation feel a great deal more dramatic than it was.

The second hero was a young woman whose name escaped your mind. She assisted the civilians as best she could but, no sooner did she help one down, and the person was practically taken from her arms.

Bright red feathers flew across the scene, darting into the building and pulling every person free by their clothing. They were lowered safely to the ground though many stumbled.

You didn’t lower your camera but you cursed out Hawks under your breath.

Never, in your wildest imagination, did you expect to hear him respond.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

You startled, just about dropping your camera on the ground in shock. He was perched above your head, atop one of the streetlights, a smirk on his face and his visor down. His wings were shorter than usual and the only way you could tell he was even helping with the incident.

“You ruined my photo,” you said. “And she had him, you know?”

“She was moving too slow. The poor guy would have been stuck in the air for several minutes longer and that’s just not good on the heart. Besides, I can make up for your lost photo if you snap a shot in the next three seconds.”

You scoffed. “A photo of you sitting on a streetlight? From this angle?”

“What? Not dramatic enough for you?”

“Not unique enough, more like. You’re the most photographed hero in the whole of Japan. The internet is teeming with images of you from every possible angle, distance, and situation. I’ve seen them all.”

For some reason, that seemed to get to the pro-hero a little and you were surprised when he landed beside you. You were very rarely this close to a pro, your bravado disappearing now that he was actually standing there.

“So you’re saying I’m not worth a photo?”

Part of you felt like saying that he was and quickly taking one but your pride didn’t allow it. “Not when there are lesser-known heroes here. They don’t have crazy stalkers willing to chase them around the city for any picture.”

“And aren’t they luckier for it,” he sighed. “Ah well, your loss. I’ll see you around.”

With a flap of his wings, he was gone and you watched him go, fighting the urge to snap a photo the entire time.

Midnight

Some would call you shallow but interviews were one of your favourite parts of being a hero. Getting to answer questions and engage with the people who admired you was an experience that you just adored. Not only that but they were often the best place to clear up rumours or speculations so long as they were edited well.

With a reliable broadcaster and positive outcomes on all of your latest jobs, you were extremely excited to be offered an interview. You knew there was an ulterior motive of some kind but you hadn’t been sure as to what.

But still, you arrived early, dressed in your hero costume, and had your makeup done up as best as it could be.

And then you watched the interview before you and you quickly realised that the broadcast was doing a segment. One focused on hero costumes.

Your own was quite unique, a step away from the usual appearance of heroes. Personally, you loved it.

The public however was divided on whether it was fashion forward or just a flop.

And clearly that was why individual heroes had been chosen.

Being interviewed at the moment and practically being drilled on the ins-and-outs of her costume was nobody other than Midnight herself. She looked absolutely amazing as ever. A natural on the stage and in the field.

You had to admit however that you didn’t feel comfortable with the questions they were asking her. She answered smoothly but mostly in deflection.

The other heroes around you agreed with your assessment. This felt like an attempt at creating a media circus. Few were interested in participating anymore.

The moment Midnight gave her leave, the producers began gesturing at you. You gave them a look and turned around with the rest of the heroes there.

Midnight was in a bad mood but she put on a smirk when you made eye contact with her.

“We’re leaving,” you told her. “None of us were told that this was going to be working off controversy.” You wanted to apologise that she had been the first to get interrogated but you didn’t know how to do that.

She laughed. “You weren’t expecting there to be a catch?”

“I mean, I was but I thought they were a little better than running a segment that’s so clearly focused on… well…”

“Sex appeal?” Midnight asked.

You awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah. It probably should have tipped us off that we were all around the same status. No real big names aside from your own have worked with this broadcast channel.”

“And nobody will again once I speak to a few contacts,” Midnight said, a hint of bitterness finally seeping into her voice. “Guess that will teach me to give new places a chance. They’re all looking for the big ratings instead of actual interest. Maybe I should just go into being a teacher full time at this rate.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

She shushed you. “Not if I don’t say it out loud.”

You laughed and stuck by her as your group exited the building, ignoring the clamoring from the higher-ups who were desperately trying to convince you to stay. The type of people who would take advantage of being able to pressure people into things. Lovely.

“Don’t you hate how rude they are to you?” you asked her. “I get so furious sometimes and my questions are always tame compared to yours.”

She shrugged. “At some point, you get used to it. I don’t think there’s a question out there that would shock me anymore.”

You really hoped you never reached that point.

Mirko

The villain pulled experimentally at his cuffs. He twisted around and began shuffling when he met your eyes.

“Where exactly are you trying to go?”

He grumbled something under his breath and stopped moving. You raised a hand to your head and sighed. At this rate, you were going to wind up with wrinkles. One of your favourite outfits had been destroyed by this little altercation and nobody had even bothered to show up yet. Somebody had called emergency services, right?

“Stop moving, I can hear you,” you snapped.

The villain would have been a greater threat if you hadn’t happened to be shopping in the area. Your quirk was the perfect match for his own and it allowed you to quickly take control of an otherwise dangerous situation.

Now you sat on a bench, him tied to the nearest building support bench, and you waited for somebody to arrive and take him off your hands.

There was a thump somewhere to your right and you lazily looked up from your phone. Only for your heart to kind of stutter.

“Aw, come on! I was told there was going to be some excitement over here!” Mirko complained. “What gives?!”

The rabbit hero was absolutely gorgeous with white hair and legs that went on for literal days. She was the epitome of everything you aspired to be as a hero. What she did was on her own terms and she fought for the thrill of it all.

You had just never expected to actually meet her.

“I’ve dealt with it,” you said once you had gotten over your shock. You gestured towards the villain. “No problems here.”

Mirko bounded over and stuck her face way too close to his. Her nose seemed to twitch in excitement. “You don’t seem so tough,” she scoffed. “I got the call and it said that this was setting itself up to be a good clash! Are you just that good?”

Her eyes fell on you, bright and teasing. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and she huffed it away without breaking eye contact.

“I am,” you said, mostly joking but feeling unable to deny it.

She threw her head back and laughed. “That’s a good answer. I like your confidence.” She eyed what you were wearing. “Your costume could use some work though.”

You chuckled. “It’s actually pretty similar to yours when I’m not interrupted while shopping. I’ve always loved your style.”

She nodded firmly as though that was a given. Then she looked around and raised an eyebrow. “If this moron interrupted your shopping, then what are you doing hanging around with him? You have things to get back to, don’t you?”

You gestured around. “I do but the police haven’t shown up yet.”

“Don’t worry about them,” she scoffed. “I’ll bounce this guy down to the station for you. Don’t waste time just standing around.”

She turned back to the villain just in time for you to both see him run around the corner. He nearly tripped but managed to keep his footing. You glanced at one another and Mirko laughed heartily. “You stay here,” she said. “I can deal with cowards in well under a minute. They always do the same things to ‘throw me off’ or whatever.”

“I’ll come with you,” you said. “It’s technically my fault he got away. And I could always learn a thing or two from the best, right?”

She grinned. “I knew I liked you. Let’s see if you can keep up though.”

Natsuo

On a good summer’s day, there was nothing better than the beach. The waves gently lapping at the shore, soft clouds drifting across the sky, and few children due to the earliness of the day. It was well worth getting up early to watch the sun creep its way over the ocean and begin what was scheduled to be the hottest day of the year.

Not that you would be outside when it hit noon. By that time, ice cream and a nice spot of shade became necessary.

For now though, you waltzed along the beach and enjoyed the sand beneath your feet. As you walked, you kept an eye out for shells though there were scarce. People came every day to collect this time of year.

In a way, that made you sad.

But the lack of shells did mean that you didn’t need to watch where you were walking quite as much. At least, that was your thought process. Shells cut your feet and there were none so why keep an eye on the sand.

The answer is broken bottles.

It was a sake bottle, probably stolen away by some kids to be drunk where their parents wouldn’t see. The searing pain made you think you’d stepped on a jellyfish. Cursing, you jerked your foot away, blood running down into the sand below.

A small wave washed up, taking the bloodied sand away to reveal the culprit.

Struggling to balance, you hopped away from the bottle and sat down, lifting your foot to see the damage. It was a rather deep slice that made you feel quite woozy. Sand was already sitting around the injury and your only option to wash it off was the very salty sea.

“Sorry, do you need some help?”

You glanced behind you to see a guy standing on the boardwalk. His hair was pale and his expression kind. Something about him seemed oddly familiar but you weren’t sure why.

“I stood on a bottle,” you said. “It’s alright.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you need some help getting off the sand?”

You were going to deny the offer but your entire leg felt like it was on fire. The pain was undoubtedly because of your brain flicking through reminders about the danger of stepping on glass. “If you’re alright with it.”

He made his way down to where you were sitting quite quickly and glanced at your foot. “That’s going to need stitches,” he said. He offered his water bottle to you. “You should clean it off and then put some pressure on it before we move it.”

The cut hadn’t seemed that bad to you but you hadn’t really been looking carefully. “Are you sure?” You still took the water though, hissing as you poured it over your cut.

“Very,” he said. “Do you mind your towel getting blood on it?”

“No.”

He used the towel to put pressure on the cut and then helped you stand, hobbling your way off the beach. Once there, he quickly listed off the nearest hospitals.

“Are you a medical student by any chance?” you asked, trying to keep your mind off the pain.

He blushed. “Sorry, is it obvious?”

You laughed. “Just a little but that’s okay. It was good that you happened to be nearby then. Can I get your name?”

He hesitated but then said, “Natsuo. Don’t worry about my family name.”

Curious now, especially given how familiar he looked, you were tempted to push. But you didn’t and instead thanked him again for his help. He turned out to be correct, of course. You did need stitches.

Present Mic

You stretched before going into the office. Everything was sore – an unfortunate result of your late night. It couldn’t have been helped. Train wrecks were rarely planned.

Principle Nezu greeted you warmly when you arrived and then asked you to sit down. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, there was a recent incident on the grounds. Thirteen was badly injured and we’re in need of a new teacher with expertise in natural disaster management.” He smiled at you. “I thought you would be the perfect match.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression you were going to try convince me to take a work study student.”

“I’m sure you will one year,” he joked.

“Unlikely but you can always offer.” You sighed and turned your gaze out the window. “I have little care for children. This will be a temporary position, yes?”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

You gave him a look but the principle just sipped at his tea. He already knew that you were going to accept – if only because you had always been a close friend of Thirteen’s. Taking over one class wasn’t going to kill you.

“I don’t have any experience in this,” you reasoned. “Other schools must have teachers who can come and cover classes?”

“None who are as experienced in the field as you are. So I’ve organised with Hizashi Yamada to take you through his methods of teaching and you can convert them over. He’ll be here soon.”

You sunk further into your chair, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “What would you have done if I said no?”

“Been very disappointed, of course.”

Present Mic was a hero you had always admired but you hadn’t ever expected him to be as loud in person as he was in the media. You just about jumped out of your skin when he entered the room dramatically, calling out a greeting.

Nezu gave the introductions and informed you that before doing an actual class, you had a week of acting as an assistant instructor alongside Present Mic.

“Should I invest in earbuds?” you joked.

He laughed but then actually lowered his voice as though you had reminded him. “Don’t worry. If I yell too much in class, Shota tends to come and glare through the doorway until I quieten down.”

You chuckled. “Do you have similar teaching schedules?’

“No but he claims that he can hear me from anywhere in the school. It’s the best way to find him actually. You just yell until he shows up.”

“I’ll take that as lesson number one in how to teach at U.A.”

“Lesson number one is to not take Nemuri’s flirting seriously,” he corrected. “I know it’s very flattering to think that she’s interested but she’s not. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell her to stop but she doesn’t always listen. It’s part of her image, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow at Nezu but he just shrugged. That didn’t seem like it was too professional but alright.

You took a deep breath and tried to pretend that this was just going to be temporary. It wasn’t like Nezu had been trying for years to get you involved at the school.

Temporary.

“Which subject do you teach?” you asked as you followed Present Mic from the office.

“English. No crazy action or anything which means you have to work double time to keep the students interested. You’ll have it far easier.”

Nobody really prepared you for the fact that Class 1A didn’t know how to do things the easy way.

[d0llpie]

You flinch during an argument

Characters: iwaizumi x reader, Kyoutani x reader,  Atsumu x reader

Angst to fluff, slightly suggestive nsfw for Atsumu

A/N: I love these boys sm and they would never hurt a fly let alone their s/o but i need some angst, some of these aren’t really arguments but yk

Iwaizumi:

Iwaizumi had a long day working with the Japan team, the players had been overworking themselves for the upcoming match meaning Iwaizumi was coming home later and later every night with no notice. Dinner was in the oven staying warm, while you sat on the couch, waiting for your boyfriend to come home. Work had been stressful and you wanted nothing more than to eat a meal with your boyfriend for once and fall asleep in his arms, forgetting all about your day. The door clicked opening signaling Iwaizumi’s return and you got up to greet him at the door. He dropped his bag and placed his shoes by the door before walking into the hallway, “mmm Haji I missed you” you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, sighing out in exhaustion. “Hey” he replied gruffly, moving past you further into the kitchen. Ouch, you pouted before trailing behind him. “I made us dinner, how was work?” you sat down at the bench watching Iwaizumi take out dinner from the oven, when he didn’t answer you tried again. “That game you mentioned is coming up right?, I might be able to take the day off work to come watch!” he nodded in response, starting to eat his dinner. “Hey are you okay?” you reached out to grab his hand, something small that he usually found endearing and calming just sent him off the edge. He wanted to just crawl in bed with you the second he got home, he didn’t even have the energy to talk and the simple questions you asked only made his tiredness turn to frustration. He snapped his hand back and turned sharply to you, a scowl on his face, ready to yell but the words died in his throat when he watched you flinch back and put your arms up to cover your face. His face softened and he reached out to grab your arm but you moved back instinctively and he felt his stomach drop. You really thought he would hurt you? He wanted to smack himself over the head, he was mad at himself but you took the scowl on his face and furrowed brows as a sign to leave. “Sorry, i-i’m gonna go to bed” before he could stop you, you scurried into your shared bedroom. While you got ready for bed, Iwa was downstairs doing the dishes trying to figure out how to apologize. The thought of you fearing him, or worse, leaving him made his heart break. You were about to get into bed when you heard knocking on your bedroom door. “Baby, can I come in?” you inhaled sharply before opening the door, his heart clenched at your exhausted and sad expression. Cautiously, he brought his hand to lift your chin so you were looking at him, guilt clear in his eyes “I’m sorry I was just so tired and i know that isn’t an excuse, i know it isn’t, but i would never hurt you. Ever. I’m sorry i made you doubt that” He pulled your head against his chest to try and show you how much he loved you and to hide the way his lip was quivering. “You should’ve said you were tired earlier..” you mumbled into his chest, hugging him just as tightly, craving for his touch like you had been earlier, “I know baby, I promise I will tell you next time, now c’mon let’s get some rest” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before lifting you and laying you down on the bed. He wrapped his arm around your waist as one hand stroked your hair, you could feel his heartbeat and you smiled into his chest, finally feeling relaxed. “I love you so much” he squeezed your waist, “love you too haji..” you whispered, drifting to sleep in your boyfriend’s arms. 

Atsumu 

“Who is she ‘tsumu?” this wasn’t the first time a news article had tried to make a story out of Atsumu and some random girl but the photo attached this time of some random girl looking far to comfortable next to your boyfriend in some club made your blood boil. “For fuck’s sake i don’t know, she’s probably some fan i don’t even know ‘er name!” He exclaimed angrily, only spurring you on further “Oh really? You look pretty cozy, she might as well be sitting in your lap!” You’d never gotten this heated over stupid rumors like these, you knew Atsumu loved you, maybe it was your own insecurity coming out, the girls long legs and perfect figure only angering you even more. You never payed much mind to ‘tsumu’s fan girls but seeing someone so pretty next to your athlete boyfriend, looking so natural and right only made it hurt that much more. “How am i supposed to believe you weren’t out hooking up with her when i wasn’t even at that party!” you were screaming now, you’d have to apologize to your neighbors later. “Is that what you think!” He slammed his fists against the bench, yelling back louder with an angry scowl on his face. You jumped back as his fist connected with the stone bench and he relaxed his brows. You made to move past him but he caught your wrist. “Wait y/n-” his voice was much softer now but you didn’t meet his gaze. “Do ya really think i care about some random girl when i have you to come home to every night?, I don’t need or want anybody else, I didn’t even recognize her when i saw ‘er picture i swear. “ He was rubbing circles on the top of your hand, one hand now on your waist. “Babe, look at me will ya’, i’ll show you how much i want you n no one else, c’mere” He pulled you into a kiss, it was sloppy and rushed, trying to release all the tension from the fight into it. “Let’s go upstairs m’kay? I love you.” he smirked at you as you nodded. 

Kyoutani 

Oikawa had texted you, telling you to come to the gym in hopes that you could calm down Kyoutani who was more violent than usual at training. You packed up your things on your desk before heading over to the gym. When you walked inside you saw Yahaba yelling in Kyoutani’s face while he looked just about ready to murder someone. Oikawa was standing behind Iwaizumi who was looking over at you expectantly. Usually once Kyoutani noticed your presence he visibly became more relaxed but he only spared you a glance before glaring at Yahaba. He grabbed him by the collar and lifted Yahaba slightly, pulling back his other fist ready to punch him. You ran over and grabbed his arm but instead of putting his arm down he shoved you off of him and you hit the floor. “Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi scolded him, walking over and yanking Yahaba away from him, he grunted before turning to see you on the floor. His expression quickly dropped and he bent down to help you up but to his horror you flinched back and whimpered. Kyoutani had always felt lucky to have you, you were so patient with him in your relationship and he had no idea what he did to deserve someone like you. He was always scared of losing you but he had never meant to scare you and seeing you so visibly shaken up because of him made him feel completely lost, his chest clenching and throat tightening. “Y/N i-” you stood up and began to walk out of the gym as the team watched silently. “Wow maddog this is-” “Cut it out yahaba” Iwaizumi cut him off gruffly. Kyoutani ran out of the gym and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind tightly. “Kyou, let me go.” You struggled against him but he only held you tighter. “Please, don’t” His voice cracked and you stopped struggling, turning to face him. “Y/n, don’t. Don’t go please.” he was desperate, you’d never seen him like this and it was quite shocking, “Kyou what happened?” you looked him in the eyes, tears forming in his own. “Just, please, i’m sorry i swear, don’t go.” His hold on you felt desperate as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not going anywhere but what happened in there?” You brought his face out of your neck and rubbed your thumb against his cheek. “Just let me hold you, i’m sorry, I love you.” Your eyes softened and you nodded before pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, you could talk later, right now he needed to hold you and know you were there and not leaving him, afterall you were always so patient with him. 

[chloelucia13]

Made of Ashes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Prompt: Faking your death wasn’t an easy thing to do, but SHIELD said that it had to be done. But you couldn’t stay out of the life you were born to have, even if it was risky. Even if it brought you face to face with the people who still believed that you were dead. Based off of “My Tears Ricochet” by Taylor Swift

Warnings: ANGST, a teensy bit of fluff, language, violence, gore, discussions of death (obviously)

Word Count: 5.1k 

A/N: We did it, boys, we’ve found another hyperfixation. Let’s see how long this lasts. Anyway, my tag lists and requests and DMs are always open! Hope you enjoy!

Death was never a foreign thing to you. It seemed to linger, its presence permeating every interaction and movement as if to remind you that you never know what could happen. 

Just because it wasn’t unfamiliar didn't mean that it wasn’t miserable, though. You’ve lost so many friends, family, and everything in-between and it never seemed to get any better.

You knew how painful it was, but you could never imagine the pain that you felt when you witnessed your own funeral. When you watched the people you love grieve over you while you were only feet from them but couldn’t comfort them.

You had watched their tears streak down their faces as they stared ahead at the closed casket, their cheeks glistening under the rays of sun that shone down on them. You watched their hands tremble as they showered individual roses onto the gleaming mahogany lid before returning to their seats with their heads bowed low. You watched the light sheen of sweat build on their skin that made them wonder if this heat was comparable to what you had felt.

They were told that you were caught in a building that Hydra had bombed, pinned underneath the falling debris as the flames rose as engulfed you. They were told that your body couldn’t be found, that it was most likely hidden under all of the rubble or turned to ash. They had to bury an empty casket.

The word had spread fast, and the wake that they’d planned on being a small gathering became flooded with familiar faces from around the galaxy. Basically everyone was there, eyes damp and hearts heavy.

In a car tucked away from the wake but still in view of it, you and Maria Hill watched their grieving in silence. “This is all for your safety,” she had explained to you, but the guilt of what she had to do was still lingering. You had nodded along to her word, but your mind was in another place. 

It was stuck in a whirlwind of panic, hurt, and confusion as you stared at the man who kept his distance from the crowd of Avengers, but his shoulders still shook with sobs as your casket was lowered into the ground. The man who gave you heaven and gave you hell. The man you swore you’d love until you died, even if you were already dead to him in his mind.

And to him, it was true.

You and Bucky had met when he was still the Winter Soldier, when he had dragged Steve from the water and dropped his limp body directly at your feet. You remember staring at him in a panic, unknowing of what he would do to you. He had stared you directly in the eye and gave you a nod before walking past you, leaving you with a seemingly-lifeless Steve.

That small, but meaningful, interaction had led you on a manhunt of sorts, devoting your free time to finding this “Bucky” that Steve spoke so fondly of.

After a couple of months, you came across a reported sighting of the Winter Soldier in Bucharest, though the man was not hostile. Immediately, you booked a flight there and, without telling another person, snuck off to find this supposed Winter Soldier.

You found him at a small market in the middle of town, your eyes locking with his as he lifted his gaze. The panic he felt from being seen was evident, but that panic seemed to melt away as a smile grew on your lips. He was still on alert, though, as you crossed the street and walked over to him. It was clear that he recognized you, but your gentle demeanor gave him a strange sense of comfort.

That first meeting had slowly built up to monthly visits that lasted for days at a time, the two of you nurturing a relationship that was kept hidden from the word, especially the Avengers.

The day that Bucky’s past life came rushing back, the two of you were on one of your monthly “dates,” as you’d jokingly called it.

The blue of his eyes had drawn you in for a moment too long, prompting a chuckle from him. You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips, turning your face from his so he couldn’t detect the blush blooming on your cheeks. “What, I can’t admire the beautiful sight before me?” you defensively hummed in Romanian, crossing your arms over your chest as your examined the baskets of fruit in front of you.

“I never said that,” he teased, playfully bumping your shoulder with his before turning to the woman running the fruit stand and asking her a few questions.

The woman handed Bucky a bag of plums and you both thanked her before walking down the street. “Plums?”

He nodded, shrugging slightly. “I figured we could make something with them.”

“I think there’s still some phyllo dough in the fridge.” He nodded, but his attention was clearly elsewhere. You followed his line of sight and saw a man sitting in a newspaper hut staring worriedly at Bucky. You touched his right arm and the two of you exchanged a glance before making your way over to the man. The moment he noticed the two of you stepping towards him, he retreated back before running out of his hut.

Bucky pulled the newspaper the man was reading off of the surface it rested on and held it out in front of him.

“Winter Soldier Cautat Pentru Bombardmentul Din Vienna”

“Bucky,” you spoke slowly, forcing yourself to tear your eyes from the paper so you could look up at his visibly shaken face.

“We need to go,” he grumbled, placing the paper face down and gripping onto your forearm.

The two of you walked at a hurried pace down the street that led up to his apartment, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible despite the fact that you both were shivering with fear.

After climbing the multiple flights of stairs with no one in sight, the tension slowly began to dissolve from the naive belief that they may not have tracked him down yet. His grip had loosened on your arm, as well, signifying that the fear had began to die down in his mind as well. The two of you silently slipped inside and closed the door behind you, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you could see that the apartment was empty. That breath hitched in your throat, though, when a pair of heavy footsteps echoed through the stairwell just outside the door. 

You nodded towards the bathroom door and he quickly pulled you into the small room, closing the door and tucking your form behind him. The creaking front door swung open and shut, and a shadow passed across the crack of the bathroom door. You gripped tightly onto the arm of Bucky’s canvas jacket and he placed his hand over yours, giving you a gentle nod. He led the two of you out of the bathroom and into the open space of the studio apartment, keeping your eyes trained on the familiar figure standing at the fridge that made your stomach turn.

After speaking out to what was most likely a voice in his ear, he turned on his heel to face you two.

You could tell from the look of pure bewilderment on his face that he absolutely was not expecting you to be there. “Y/N?” Steve questioned.

You gave him an awkward smile and a wave. “Hi,” you hummed with a simple nod.

A wave of emotions crossed over his face and he let out a sigh. “We don’t have time to talk about this right now.”

After the chase that led you, Bucky, Steve, and King T’Challa in prison, and the prison break that took place afterward, Bucky had kept his distance from you. He became cold, calloused to you. You figured that it was due to the stress of being framed for a crime he didn’t commit and the man who did commit it trying to tap into the Winter Soldier, but that didn't mean that it didn’t hurt. You’d spent months working on a relationship with this man who you loved more than you’d care to admit, all for it to be gone within moments.

But it didn’t go away, even after everything was taken care of and Bucky had came back to you.

The bright smile on your face couldn’t be suppressed when Steve and Bucky had came into view, both of them clearly exhausted from everything that had occurred. That exhaustion was tucked away, though, when Steve saw you standing there, and he quickly headed over to you and pulled you into a tight hug. You took his affection gratefully, the two of you chatting with equally wide smiles.

After about a minute or two, Steve told you that he had something to do before quickly slipping out of the room, leaving you and Bucky alone. Bucky stood a good distance from you, avoiding your gaze and keeping his stance rigid. It was obvious that he was still hurting, but you figured that your presence could cheer him up.

“Bucky,” you sighed, hurrying over to him and reaching out for a hug.

He turned away from your embrace, keeping his eyes on the ground and his face emotionless. 

“Buck?” You dropped your arms to your sides, brows furrowing in confusion as you attempted to search his face. He gave no expression, and you gave up on his face, instead glancing at his robotic arm that was no longer there. “Oh my god, your arm.”

“It’s fine,” he huffed, stepping away to stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the landscape of Wakanda.

He was shutting you out, acting more rigid than he did when you two first met. Your lips pressed together as you walked over to the windows, keeping a few feet of distance between you two. “It’s beautiful here-”

“God, do you ever take a fucking hint?” 

You jumped from the tone of his voice, giving him a look of shock while his face, still, stayed flat. “What?”

“I don’t want you here. I want you to leave me alone.”

His words made your heart sink to your shoes, but there was a pestering itch in the back of your mind that made you push him further. “You don’t mean that.”

He stepped forward until you were backed up against the glass, placing an arm on each side of your body and caging you in. “Don’t I?” He let out a huff, eyes trained on yours which were brimming with tears. “You’ve ruined whatever chance I had at being normal. You found me, you led everyone to me, and you got me sucked back into all of this bullshit.”

You shook your head. “I just wanted to help.”

He scoffed. “You sure helped a lot.”

You blinked back the tears and clenched your jaw, giving him a look of spite. You averted your gaze for a moment, eyes catching on the small black cord that peeked out from his shirt. The cord that was so familiar because it was a necklace you’d gifted him. You let out a huff before shoving his arm out of your way and stomping away down the expansive hall.

On your way to your room that T’Challa had given you the key to earlier, you ran into Sam, who immediately noticed the anger and pain radiating off of you. “Whoa, whoa, cool it on the stomping there. You might just smash through the floor,” he teased and gripped your arm with a smile, but it fell when his eyes searched yours. “What’s wrong?”

“Go ask Bucky, because I sure as shit have no clue.”

Months after you’d left Bucky in Wakanda, your “funeral” had taken place, and it pained you that you were never able to resolve the issues that had divided you two. 

You tried your hardest to live your life as normal (well, as normally as you could while staying as underground as possible and basically living a completely different life than the one you previously had), but that plan had crumbled and turned to dust like half of the planet. You’d lost Hill and Fury, the  only people who knew that you were still alive and were actively working to keep you safe. At first, it was horrifying to know that no one would be watching your every move as you’d grown so used to it. But as time went on and you realized that you had to be somewhat present in society, you had finally felt the freedom that you’ve been held from for years.

You lived life under the new identity that Hill and Fury had previously given you (Sandra McMahan, 27, unemployed, living in Boston, Massachusetts), but you couldn’t give in to the normal life that was at your fingertips, so close yet so far away. Instead, you launched yourself headfirst into researching all of the people who turned to dust. It was clear that it was a result from something that the Avengers fought due to the multiple sightings of spacecrafts that were documented on Stark’s databases, but it proved to be much more devastating than you could’ve guessed.

All of your friends were either dead or missing, and you couldn’t help but feel the immense guilt from the thought that you could’ve saved them.

Five years had come and gone in a haze of misery and loneliness, each day blurring into the previous day and the next day. You tried your hardest to participate in a society that was struggling to cope with the devastating loss that had occurred, but most days you had failed to get out of bed.

You still vividly remember the day of the blip, when the billions of people who’d vanished into thin air had reappeared just as quickly and in the same exact state. You remember the amalgamation of cheers and cries as people were reunited with their loved ones, all while you watched them from your 10th floor window in your dingy little apartment.

All alone.

The databases were updated at that point, displaying who had come back. Of course, there were still a few people whose status never changed, and no matter how long you refreshed the page in hopes that it would switch from “missing” to a blank spot where that word once sat, it didn’t. Instead, it changed from “missing” to “deceased.”

Hill and Fury had tried to get back in contact with you, but you ignored their messages, instead choosing to look deeper into the reappearance of one man.

You’d watched Bucky from a distance, lingering in the shadows as you went along with all of daily activities. Going to the grocery stores, spending Wednesdays at an asian restaurant with a man you didn’t recognize, and attending this weekly therapy appointments. His routines were, well, routine, until the day that he and Sam traveled to the Raft to break out the man who nearly landed Bucky in that same prison. They’d escaped successfully, and their movements brought you to Madripoor, a place that instantly settled a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach. 

The dress you wore in that dark and musty bar was itchy and the stares you earned from it made your skin crawl, but you bit your tongue and kept a straight face as you tucked yourself away into a dark corner. The doubt that itched in the back of your mind of how the three men would show kept growing stronger and stronger, only for it to shift into pure terror as Bucky and Sam walked in with that bastard. 

Bucky’s face was as still and hollow as it was the first day you met him, that hauntingly empty look that made your insides churn. But that churning was incomparable to the bile that bubbled in your chest as he attacked men at Zemo’s word, his actions harsh and merciless.

Silently, the three men were led into a back room by an armed man, and once the trio disappeared into the room, you overtook the man and disarmed him. You gripped the gun in your hands and stood just outside of the room, still lingering within earshot.

Zemo and who you assumed to be Selby discussed some sort of contract that had to do with the super soldier serum, of which he offered Bucky as payment for information on where to get the serum. The discussion was cut short by Sam’s phone ringing, which snowballed into a situation much bigger than they were expecting.

As Selby ordered for them to be killed, a gunshot rang through the air and Selby’s words were cut short. After attacking the guards that surrounded the room, the three men escaped out the back door, and you followed them. The road leading out from the bar proved just as treacherous as another spray of gunfire sounded from all around, and you all sprinted down the narrow street and into an attached back alley.

You shot down the two motorcyclists that had followed them in and stepped out of the shadows, gun trained on Zemo as your hands shook with fury. “Disarm him,” you spat, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Y/N?” Sam spoke, voice laced with shock.

“Power him down, Zemo,” you continued, ignoring the shocked looks from Sam and Bucky. “I will not hesitate to blow your fucking brains out!”

“Drop the gun” Bucky roared, making you jump. 

“Well, this is too perfect,” a woman’s voice echoed, standing in the space next to you and aiming her gun at Zemo. “Drop it, Zemo.”

Zemo slowly lowered his gun to the ground and held his hands in the air, retreating back as the other two men walked forward. “Sharon?” Bucky spoke.

“You cost me everything.”

“Sharon, wait-” Sam pleaded.

The four of them bickered while you stepped back and lowered your gun to your side, trying to catch up with everything that was going on while also trying to comprehend why Bucky was with Zemo, why he acted like he was the Winter Soldier.

Sharon’s offer of refuge seemed to draw everyone in, but as they all began to walk, Bucky turned to you and gripped both of your biceps in his hands, forcing you to drop your weapon. He backed you up into the brick wall and tightened his jaw, the rough material scraping against your exposed back. “Bucky,” you cried out.

“Who are you?” he hissed, pulling you close to him before swiftly slamming you back against the wall, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Y/N. Please.”

“Y/N is dead.” Sam appeared behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Who. The fuck. Are you.”

“Bucky, we don’t have time for this!” Sam snapped. “She’s coming with us, let’s go.”

You silently pleaded with Sam but he walked away, allowing Bucky to wrestle both of your arms behind your back and walk you to the car.

*** As Sharon and Sam and Zemo conversed, Bucky dragged you into the first room he saw and threw you inside, locking the door behind him.

You let out a hiss of pain as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, glancing dow nat the rug burn on your palms before looking up at Bucky. “Buck, come on, it’s me,” you begged, watched as he leaned against the wall that faced you.

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed, lips pursed tightly. “Who are you and why are you here? How did you find me?”

You spoke slowly, “Bucky, it’s Y/N Y/L/N. We met in Bucharest, we were... We were best friends, until...”

“What, until I went to Wakanda or until you died?”

“They made me fake my death, Buck, it wasn’t my choice. They made me hide away from everybody for what they said was my own safety. They said that I could be used by Hydra to get secrets about everyone, about you.” You let out a trembling sigh. “I’ve been hiding for seven fucking years. I’ve been alone for seven years.”

He looked away from you, gliding his tongue over his bottom row of teeth before pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You cut your hair,” you spoke after a moment’s silence.

“You came back from the dead.”

“So did you.”

He shot a glare at you, standing up straight and walking over to sit in a chair on the other side of the room. Hesitantly, you rose to your feet and walked over to him, leaving about 10 feet of distance between you two. “How did you find me?”

“Stark’s databases. They said that you were getting court-mandated therapy in New York City, so I went there, and I guess I just followed you from there.”

“Why...” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Well, first of all, I couldn’t. I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt because of my selfishness.” You sat in the chair adjacent to his. “And I figured that it would be best that I stayed away from you since you despised me.” 

He let out a sigh, mouth opening to defend himself. 

You shook your head. “Do you know how much that hurt me?” you cried out, lower lip quivering. “I-I thought that you cared about me, but you didn’t, did you?”

“I can say the same fucking thing about you!” he snapped. “When I came back from the blip, I saw you everywhere! I thought that you were haunting me, that my guilt was just making you appear, but it was actually you!”

“I didn’t want to do that, okay.” “What, you didn’t want to haunt me? You made me miserable!”

“That’s just what you said the last time I saw you.” You pushed yourself out of the chair and faced away from him, not wanting him to see you cry. “You were one of the only people I had. After you left, I wanted so badly to go see you. I could’ve gone anywhere, but the one place I wanted to be was with you. And then I had to hide away from the world, and I had no one. And I had to live with the fact that I would never be able to fix things between us.”

“You’ve really got some balls to say that shit.” He gripped your arm and spun you around to face him. “Fuck you, Y/N. Fuck you and everything you did.”

You yanked your arm from his grasp and stormed away. “I don’t think I’m the one to blame here, Bucky.”

You slammed the door shut behind you and walked past the room where the other three were gathered. “Hey, where are you going?” Sharon shouted.

“Outside,” you grumbled, walking out into the open courtyard in front of the house. 

Sobs bubbled in your chest and past your lips, collapsing onto the front steps with your head held in your hands. Your shoulders shook and though you tried to keep the noise to a minimum, you couldn’t hold back the hiccups of air that you tried to breathe in.

Heavy footsteps clicked on the pavement behind you a few minutes later, and you hastily swiped away the tear tracks that soaked your cheeks. “Sam, I’m fine. I’ll be in in a minute and you can interrogate me all you want,” you choked out, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Not Sam,” Bucky’s gruff voice rumbled behind you, his form settling beside you on the steps.

You pursed your lips, eyes trained on the concrete path ahead of you. “Why did you go to the wake?” The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them.

“What?”

“I... I saw you at my wake. Why were you there? I thought I was dead to you.”

He shook his head. “You were never dead to me. You... God, you were the only thing keeping me going. You were all I had.”

You finally lifted your gaze to his face, locking eyes with him. “Then why’d you hurt me?”

A sigh left his lips. “After that chase in Bucharest, I... I guess I realized that you being with me wasn’t safe. And then when Zemo was able to get the Winter Soldier to come out...”

“So you hurt me to keep me from getting hurt.”

“Y/N-”

“What, am I wrong? God, when you push people away you really go for the heart.”

“It’s not like it was easy for me! When I saw how badly I hurt you, it felt like a part of me died inside.”

“But you still had every goddamn piece of me in your hands. Was that not enough for you?”

He stayed silent, searching your eyes for a moment before directing his gaze to his shoes. You scoffed and pushed yourself to your feet, turning on your heel to leave.

Bucky reached his left arm up, the cool metal curling gently around your wrist as he also stood up. In one fluid motion, he spun you around to face him and pressed his lips into yours. You froze in shock, but before you could even decide how to feel about his bold actions, he pulled away and searched your eyes. 

You let out a shuddering sigh, trying to gather your composure as quickly as possible. “Bucky, I would’ve died for you.”

“That was the last thing I wanted. It still is.” His cool fingers loosened their grip, delicately gliding along the back of your hand. “And when I found out that you died, I blamed myself. I told myself that if I hadn't hurt you, if I was with you, then you would’ve lived.”

“Bucky-”

“My therapist, she made me create a list of people that I need to make amends with. I-I’ve gotten through most of it, but there’s a few names that I still need to get through.” He dug in his back pocket, fishing out the small pocketbook and turning to the last page. “I wrote your name down. I-I knew that there was no way I could ever make amends with you, but I felt like I had an obligation to.”

You stared at your name scrawled out on the page in his messy handwriting. It was the only name on the page, placed right in the center. Tears welled in your eyes and you let out a shaky breath, unable to find the words to say.

“You don’t have to forgive me, and honestly I don’t expect you to, but I just needed-”

“Bucky.”

He closed his mouth, his sweet blue eyes following your movements as you closed the book in his hands and settled both of your hands on his cheeks. You could see the stress melting off of him as soon as he felt the warmth of your touch, his shoulders dropping slightly and a hint of a smile threatening to crack on his lips.

“Bucky Barnes, you are the most stubborn son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” you sighed, giving him a small smile. “And I know it’s because you’ve been hurt more times than you can count, but if I can take away some of that hurt, I’d do it a million times over and never regret it.” The tip of your nose brushed against his, and you heard his breath hitch in his throat. “I forgive you.”

With a gentle tilt of his head, his lips bumped against yours before quickly locking together. Your fingers drifted down his cheeks and his throat before clasping together behind his neck.

He stole a few more quick kisses before pulling away completely, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before permitting a smile to rest on his face. You mirrored his smile and carded a hand through his hair. “Y’know,” you breathed, “I really dig this haircut.”

He arched a brow. “Really, I thought you liked the long hair.”

“I did like the long hair! It just... This is more you. Not the Winter Soldier, not HYDRA. You.”

You felt his arm pressed against your body as he tucked his book into his jacket pocket before both arms tenderly snaked around your waist and pulled you close to him. He pressed a chaste kiss, then two, then three onto your lips before letting out a small sigh.

“I’ve got clients coming in half an hour and I’d prefer not having people with targets on their heads making out on my front step,” Sharon shouted from the front door, giving both of you a pointed look before stepping back inside.

“I should leave,” you hummed, dropping your hands to your sides and beginning to wiggle yourself free of his grip.

“Y/N,” he breathed, fingers catching onto yours and weaving together. “Stay. Please. I... I just got you back, I don't want to lose you again.” Your eyes locked with his and he held the stare for a few moments before clearing his throat and shifting his gaze to the ground between you two. “Besides, I think Sam and Zemo might kill me if I don’t go back in there without you.”

You giggled. “Oh, that’s the reason you want me to go in there with you?”

“Yeah!” His voice was nearly drowned out by your laughs, but he persisted. “I swear to god, if looks could kill, I would’ve died before I could’ve even gotten out here to talk to you. Fucking Zemo even said something about ‘when you’ve got a woman like that, you should never take hurt them.’”

You grinned. “You think he’s wrong about that?”

He shook his head fervently. “No, no, not at all! I just... I guess I’m out of practice with this whole... talking thing.” He let out a breath and squeezed your hands. “I need to catch up on the seven years that I’ve spent without you, and there’s no better time to start than now.”

You bit down on your lower lip to suppress the smile that was close to splitting your face in two. “I don't know, Bucky, but that sure sounds like some good talking to me.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smile finally began to settle on his lips. “Shut up.”

You pressed a final, sweet kiss to his lips before slipping from his grasp, giving yourself a moment to admire the purple light that caressed his skin. “Come on, let’s head inside before Sharon loses her shit.”

[just-jordie-things]

Ghost

word count: 11,648 warnings: swearing, mentions of death, reader is an orphan,  summary: John B was the closest thing to family that (y/n) had left, and now he’s gone and disappeared.  Fortunately JJ’s there to help her feel whole again. based on this song ___

[ yelling at the sky, screaming at the world // baby why’d you go away?... heaven only knows where you are now ]

August 10th, 9:30 p.m (The Night Of The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

“Unfortunately… we lost them” Officer Thomas said, hanging his head shamefully.

Pope broke down right away, Kiara at his side, comforting him with a hug and soft words.

“What do you mean you lost them?” JJ asked, jumping straight to anger.  “They’re just gone? They’re dead!?”

(y/n) stood back, glancing down at her cold hands, finding that they’ve begun to shake with the new information.  She didn’t know how to process what she was hearing.

“We don’t know for certain-” Thomas tried to explain, but JJ wasn’t having it, he lashed out completely.

“You drove them right into the storm!” He yelled, lunging for the cop, grabbing him by his shirt and shaking him violently.  “You killed them-!”

“JJ..” Kiara cried out, clutching tighter to Pope’s side as she began to quietly sob.

He released the cop with a shove, turning back to his remaining friends.  Pope pulled Kiara into his arms, crying into her hair silently.

But (y/n) was frozen in place, her expression hadn’t changed since Thomas had told them what happened.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks quickly, more and more spilling over with each passing second.  Her whole body shook, and she wrapped her arms around herself.  She wasn’t sure if it was the grief or the cold, but either way, her own embrace provided no comfort.

“(y/n/n)- sweetheart…” JJ stepped towards her, his hands outstretched for her to take if she needed, but she didn’t move.  Her eyes didn’t even meet his.

“John B…” She whimpered, her lip quivering as she sniffled.  “Sarah…”

When a sob escaped her, JJ was there in a second, grabbing onto her and holding her as tightly as he could in his arms.  She continued to sob, screaming and crying as her body finally reacted.

She thrashed in his hold, squirming and pushing at him, hands smacking at his arms and chest, trying to pry him off of her, even though deep down all she craved was to be held, comforted.

“It’s not fair! It’s not fair,” She was screaming, drawing the attention of the surrounding officers, as well as the Carreras and the Heywards who had shown up to comfort their children.

But (y/n) had no one to show up for her, they were all dead.

“It’s not fair- It's not fair it’s not fair” She continued to cry against JJ, until her knees gave out and she crumpled to the ground.  

The blonde boy followed with her, gathering her back in his arms no matter how much she fought and pushed him away.

But eventually her body tired out, and she gave in.  He could feel her slump into his shoulder as she rested all of her weight on him.  His own tears soaked into her hair and tee shirt as he dropped his face to her own shoulder.

“Not fair” She mumbled, on repeat, until her crying made her too incoherent to understand.  

He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do, he’d never seen (y/n) like this before, much less how you were supposed to react when your best friend, and your kinda new friend, were lost at sea.

“I’ve got you,” He said instead, knowing that there were no magic words to heal her.  “I’m here, I’ve got you”

They didn’t fix everything, but they seemed to do the trick, because she finally wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands fisting into the material of his shirt as she clutched onto him with the same intensity that he held her with.

They spent hours in that tent, long after Pope and Kiara’s parents took them home, they were still there.  Technically they were supposed to wait for a parent or guardian to pick them up.  But JJ’s father was a coked up piece of shit, and (y/n’s) parents were six feet underground.

She didn’t push him away again.  She spent the whole night in his arms, clinging onto him with an iron grip.  And ever since that night, she hasn’t really let go of him. ___

[ how do i love? how do i trust again? ]

September 10th, 3:00 a.m (One Month After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

“Wake up, (y/n/n), wake up”

The girl gasped for air as her eyes flew open, and as quickly as she’d woken up, she settled back into her pillow, eyes falling shut again as she let out a sign.

“I was doing it again, wasn’t I?” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she tried not to cry, and tried not to remember the vivid details of her nightmare.

Which was more of a traumatic memory than a nightmare, really.

JJ, who was lying next to her, was quiet as he gazed down at her, watching her calm herself down as best she could.  He always gave her the space to relax on her own before stepping in.  He wanted her to know that she was capable of recovering on her own, but that he would still be there for her as soon as she needed him.

After a few deep breaths, the girl rolled onto her side, her face colliding with his chest as she continued her steady breathing.

“Will you hold my hand?” She mumbled, and he simply nodded, reaching for her trembling fingers, and gently slotting his fingers through hers.  She continued to tap her index finger over the back of his hand at a rapid pace.

She did this for a minute or two before speaking again.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry, baby, it’s alright,” He murmured to her softly, followed by a kiss to her forehead.  “I’ve got you”

A small choked sound came from her as tears threatened to well up in her eyes again.

She’d spent the last month in bed with him like this.  No matter how much time passed, and no matter how much her grief started to melt away and she began her coping process, she’d still wake up in the middle of the night from awful nightmares.

She hadn’t planned on being a regular guest in JJ’s bed at the Chateau, but she also didn’t have anywhere else to go.  She didn’t have a place of her own, she’d lived at the Chateau since she was six and John Routledge had taken her in.

She was just a child when her parents got into a freak boating accident and died at sea.  She hadn’t understood why she was put in the system, or why she couldn’t go home to her mom and dad.  But for some reason, her friend John B had gotten his dad to take her in, and after a day or two of moving in, she’d understood.

John and John B were her family now.

But then a year ago, John Routledge was declared lost at sea, and it was just her and John B.  It was hard, since he was pretty much the only father she’d ever known, and since he was announced dead, in the same way her parents had been.  At least she still had John B, who was a brother to her.

Fate had a sick sense of humor though, sending him off into a storm, likely killing him.

And she ended up losing him, too.

JJ’s free hand smoothed over her back, caressing her hair, and then rubbing circles over her back again.  He always did his best to comfort her in any way she needed.  And it had been a month of waking up with her to her nightmares, so he always knew just what to do.

“Can we go stay in his room?” She asked quietly.

That was a new request that JJ hadn’t been expecting, but nonetheless, he nodded, and helped her to sit up.  He reached his hands out for her, offering to help her get out of bed, but she limply hung her arms in the air, silently asking him to carry her.

“Alright, you big baby,” He teased in a tired murmur, and leaned over to wrap his arms around her torso, picking her up and pulling her into his chest.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, and her head laid down on his shoulder.  Had she not been so shaken up, she could have fallen right back asleep.

“But I’m only doing this cause you’re so damn cute” He told her as his hands shifted to hold her from under her legs, and he carefully made his way through the dark to get to John B’s room.

The flirty comment provoked a small and sleepy laugh from the girl.  It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it provided a certain comfort to JJ.  it had been a while since she truly laughed.  He missed the sound dearly.

(y/n) had spent some time in John B’s room during the long summer days.  But she’d never spent the night in it.

JJ would often find her in there, cleaning up, reorganizing his book shelf, playing his CD’s, feeding the fish he’d won at a carnival a year ago that was miraculously still alive- she’d do anything and everything to spend time in there.  To her, it was all that was left of him.

JJ had even caught her putting on his clothes, worn tee shirts, strangely-patterned button downs, sweaters that were too big for her- but she always took them off before anyone could see.  JJ pretended not to notice, and never said anything.  Both because he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, but also because sometimes when she spent all of her time in that room, he’d feel just the tiniest amount of jealousy, and it made him feel ashamed.

[ i stay up all night, tell myself i’m alright // baby you’re just harder to see than most ]

“Alright, here we go, baby,” He said as he delicately set her down on the mattress.

(y/n) visibly deflated as she melted into the cool sheets.  Her limbs were still wrapped around JJ’s figure, so she pulled him down with her as she got situated, but he didn’t mind.

With great caution, he slipped out of her hold just enough to lay at her side, so that he wouldn’t pass out on top of her.

He watched as she seemingly relaxed for the night, finally.  She pressed her face deep into the pillow her head was under, taking in a deep breath, the lingering smell of cologne and the beach and something that was distinctly John B flooding her senses.

“It still smells like him” She murmured.  She doesn’t sound like she’s going to cry again, but JJ keeps a watchful eye on her, just in case.

When she exhaled, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.  He gave her a small smile, which she faintly returned before moving in closer to him.

“Thank you” She whispered as her forehead touched his gently.

His arms wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her into him completely.  And then he kissed her forehead again, and then her nose, before tucking her head against his chest, just under his chin.

She tended to lean her ear against his chest, using the steady beat of his heart to lure her to sleep.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart” He told her, like he had a million times before.

“I know, you always say that,” (y/n) murmured, lips brushing over his neck as she spoke.  “But I mean it anyways.  Thank you, Jay”

Her hand finds a comfortable place to rest just over his heart, and soon she’s drifting back to a seemingly peaceful sleep.  JJ just hopes she makes it through the night.

He lets his hand brush through her hair, untangling the locks until his fingers can run perfectly smooth through it.  He does this until he falls asleep. ___

[ i put the record on, wait till i hear our song // every night i’m dancing with your ghost ]

July 4th, 10:00 p.m (A Month Before The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

Neither of them had made a move yet, but they both knew all too well that there was something between them.  Something fiery and exciting, something soft and intimate.

JJ always flirted with (y/n), long before he realized he actually had feelings for one of his closest Pogue friends.  They’d been friends since they were kids, and they’d technically been living together for the past few months, but only recently had it dawned on him that he was falling in love with her, and it was happening fast.

“As flattering as I find your staring, you look very zoned out,” Her voice drew him from his thoughts, and he found himself grinning as (y/n) walked up to him, beer in hand.

John B and Pope had thrown a Fourth of July kegger, and it was probably the craziest party they’d had in years.  Tourons and Kooks had shown up from all over the island, and every kid on The Cut made an appearance that night.

A couple of Kooks had even brought in their own kegs to help supply the party with enough beer.

But despite all the people here, all the hot Tourons to be exact, JJ had been content that (y/n) had approached him, with her sweet smile and revealing bikini.

“What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours, hm?” She asked, only half teasing.

All summed had been like this.  The flirting intensified, and they both stopped pursuing one night stands with the Tourons that came to these things.

“Absolutely nothing,” JJ grinned back at her, and she laughed, believing him.  “Where you been all night? Fighting off all these guys I hope?” He asked, half joking.

Coincidentally, a group of basic white tourist boys walked past, one of them letting out a low whistle as their eyes wandered over (y/n’s) figure.

JJ scowled at him, stepping forward threateningly, one of his arms instinctively wrapping around the girl’s waist as he glared down the Touron until he cowered away.

“Wow,” (y/n) chuckled, one of her hands pressing against JJ’s chest, but she didn’t push him away, so he didn’t move.  “You made your point tough guy, jesus,” She said, raising her brows at him.  “Jealous much?”

“Me? Jealous?” He asked with a scoff, to which (y/n) mimicked the sound.

“That’s real hot coming from the most jealous and pissed off guy in the OBX” She teased with a growing smirk on her lips.

“Well, sure, but I’m not jealous of that guy,” JJ told her, gesturing at the lame Touron who was miserably failing at shotgunning a beer.

But as he watched the idiot with an amused grin, (y/n) just smiled up at the blonde boy, admiring his side profile for a moment.

Unlike most stories of friends who became lovers, where they weren’t sure when their friendship blossomed into something more, (y/n) knew exactly when she fell for JJ.

It had been last summer.  They’d been on the HMS Pogue on a fishing trip, and while she’d never been fishing before, she was eager to let JJ and Pope teach her how.  When she caught her first fish, JJ had cheered, but he could tell that it made her sad to throw it in the cooler.  So he told her it was alright if she wanted to throw it back.  He showed her how to carefully take the fish off the lure so it wouldn’t be as hurt, and let her throw it back in the water.

He must have felt her staring, because suddenly he was turning back to her, his eyes locking on hers instantly.

“Look who’s starin’ now” He teased, his fingers brushing against her hips in an attempt at tickling her.

She giggled and wiggled a bit, but she still didn’t pull away from him.

They were very close, so close that if JJ hadn’t been wearing his hat backwards, then its brim would have been bumping into her forehead.  So close, that she could just faintly feel his warm breath hitting the bridge of her nose.  So close, that it would be so easy to kiss him right now.

Curiously, her eyes wandered down to his lips, pink and inviting, begging to be kissed, she thought.  No wonder girls would throw themselves at him, he had the most perfect looking pair of lips.

Of course, before she could decide if it was worth it to throw reason (and the only Pogue rule) out the window, Rafe and Topper were causing trouble somewhere on the beach, and soon JJ was peeling himself away from her and racing off towards the conflict.

He was always there to end it, never one to shy away from a fight.  (y/n) had come to terms with that a long time ago, knowing it was something she’d never be able to change.

But looking back on it, if he hadn’t left her to get his ass kicked by Rafe Cameron, then they probably would have crossed that line between friendship and something more that very night. ___

[ Never got a chance to say a last goodbye ]

September 15th, 9:45 a.m (Two Months After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

The sun was unrelenting as it shined in through the window, forcing (y/n) to wake up despite her longing to sleep in bed all day.  It wouldn’t be the first time that she refused to get out of bed.

But she told herself that she should.  The sun was telling her that she should.  Even if she did manage to close her eyes and ignore the brightness streaming into the room, she knew she wouldn’t sleep comfortably.

Today, she was going to get up and make herself breakfast.  That felt like a good start for taking care of herself today.

She rolled over with a groan, in an attempt to reach for JJ to see if he was awake.  Some mornings he would wake up before her and she’d find him laying there on his phone, but sometimes he would just peacefully lay there as he waited for her to wake up.

However, as she lazily slung her hand towards the other side of the bed, she only ended up hitting pillows.  And suddenly the easy morning started to turn upside down.

Don’t freak out, she told herself, even as she scurried out of bed.  

Don’t panic, it’s fine, he’s probably just watching tv in the living room.  

As she was about to run out of the room, she decided at the last second it was probably best to throw on a pair of shorts.  The large tee shirt she well fell just past all of her curves, but it would be embarrassing if she ran through the Chateau in front of Pope and Kiara in a worried panic without pants on.

Or maybe he’s making breakfast, like that one time he brought you breakfast in bed, that was really sweet.

None of the calming ideas that crossed her mind actually calmed her, as she searched through the living room, there was no sign of JJ.  The kitchen was empty, the bathroom door was hung ajar, and also empty.

There was a logical explanation for him not being here, deep down she knew that, but then why didn’t he leave a note? Or wake her to let her know he’d be leaving? Why would he leave without saying anything at all? Didn’t he know that this was her worst fear come to life, again?

Panic took over, and next thing she knew she couldn’t take in enough air as her throat closed up and her legs stopped working.  She stood in the living room for a solid minute, hands glued to her head, fists tugging on her hair tightly in a terrible attempt to ground herself to the moment and not spiral any further.

But her heavy breaths turned to sobs and she didn’t know she was crying until she felt the tears on her cheeks.

There’s a logical explanation, there’s a logical explanation, she repeated in her head like a mantra, hoping to god that she’d start believing it soon.

Slowly, she crouched down on the floor, because sometimes when she had panic attacks she got dizzy so it was better to sit down now.

Or maybe he went boating with Pope, they like to fish early in the morning, she thought.  Maybe they hit something, the marsh is always changing with the weather.  Maybe the boat capsized, maybe they drowned to their deaths-

No! Don’t think that!

The sobbing got worse as she assumed the worst, taking in gasping breaths of air, desperate to fill her lungs that felt like they were about to collapse.

Maybe they went into town to pick up breakfast.  Maye they got stopped by Kooks, or Barry, maybe they were murdered in cold blood-

The girl whimpered, trying to ward off the horrific images rolling through her mind, but as terrible as they were, she reminded herself that these weren’t unrealistic worries, that these things had happened before, and would happen again.

He promised me he wouldn’t get on a fucking boat, he promised me he’d start biking around the island, she told herself.  JJ wouldn’t break a promise to her, especially that one, but the anxiety inside of her was still whispering into her ear, telling her that all of her friends very well could have been gone forever.

Maybe he just left.  Maybe he got sick and tired of waiting around.  Maybe he was just being a nice guy the last two months.  Maybe he didn’t care anymore.  Maybe he didn’t miss John B or Sarah.  Maybe he finally fled for the mainland like he’s been talking about since he was a kid.  Maybe he’s with a girl.  Maybe he didn’t care about you anymore.

Her hands covered her face, wishing that she could just stop and focus on something else, calm her breathing.  She wanted to run out of the Chateau and go looking around the island, but she remained frozen on the floor.

“(y/n)?” A voice called, and she could faintly hear the screen door swinging open and then shut.  “Woah, hey, (y/n/n)”

Through blurry eyes, she could just barely make out Pope’s figure, kneeling in front of her.

Pope, Pope is here, she thought to herself, and it sort of helped relax her.  You’re not alone, Pope is here.

She shakily reached her hands out to him, grabbing onto his forearms and anchoring herself to him.

He’s real, he’s right here.  His hands are holding your elbows, he’s real.

“Breathe, (y/n), deep breaths, you can do it,” His initially stressed voice calmed when he realized that she was having a panic attack.  He’d seen her have them once or twice before, but it was always JJ who rushed in and helped her out of them.  “Copy my breathing, can you do that?” He asked.

She nodded her head, eyes meeting his as he took in a long and deep breath, held it for three seconds, and then slowly let it out.  He kept on repeating that action until her exhales weren’t shaky, and her body relaxed.

“There you go, you’ve got it, you’re alright…” He said smoothly.

His thumbs caressed over her arms gently, reminding her silently that he was there for her, that he cared about her.

“You want to talk about it?” He offered, and (y/n) shut her eyes tightly, willing the rest of her tears to dry up.

“I- I woke up and- and-”

When she began to stutter, Pope hushed her soothingly, and helped her through another breathing exercise.

“Okay, now try again,” He said softly, once her breaths evened out again.  “Slowly”

“I woke up,” She said, slowly, and then exhaled.  “And JJ wasn’t there- and then he wasn’t out here-”

When the rambling began again, she breathed in deeply again.

“It’s alright, he’s right outside,” Pope told her, relieved that the problem had an easy solution..  “You want to go out and see him?”

(y/n) nods back at him, and he helps her stand.

“Kie and I came over this morning, we brought donuts,” He said, hugging her into his side.  “We were just on the porch, Jay said you were asleep”

Pope opened the front door for her, as they went onto the porch, and her entire body relaxed as her eyes landed on JJ.

He was sitting on the beat up sofa that had been out there since forever, while Kiara was leaning against the citing of the house, a blunt between her fingers.

JJ smiled as (y/n) came out with Pope, tucked into his side the way a child clings to their mother at large events.

“Morning baby,” He calls to her, and pats the space next to him on the couch, before resting his arm over the back of the cushions.  

In no time she peels away from Pope and is sliding into the space under his arm, her side and her legs pressed up against him.  It feels like that first sip of coffee in the morning, and she forgets about the anxiety attack she’d had just moments ago.

He eyes the way she’s twirling the ring around her thumb, almost obsessively.  She hasn’t taken it off since he’d given it to her, and he doesn’t think she ever will.

“You hungry? Kie and Pope brought donuts” He offered, gesturing to the box on the decorative table Kiara was standing next to.

“Maybe in a little bit” She mumbled, her head falling against his shoulder as she let herself feel relieved.

Some days it was hard to feel content with being content.  But JJ was a huge help with that.  His presence alone was enough to calm her, that much was obvious.

He’s a little thrown off, but wraps his arm around her nonetheless.  His rings are a chill on her hot skin, but it’s somehow comforting.

Panic attack, Pope mouths when the blonde boy looks to him, silently asking what happened.

JJ nods discreetly, before glancing down at the girl under his arm.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly.

Kiara and Pope pretended to argue over the last chocolate sprinkled donut, so that they had a little bit of privacy between them.

“Fine, now,” She whispers back.

Her fingers aimlessly play with the chain around his neck.

“I- I had a panic attack” She admits.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked as the tips of his fingers grazed up and down her arm.

She lifts her head to look at him properly, her fingers still twirling his necklace around her fingers.

“Um… you just… you weren't inside…”

It felt embarrassing to admit that something as simple as that had set her off.  When she was in the moment it was a lot more terrifying.  But JJ made sure she wasn’t ashamed of that feeling.

“Well, I’m right here,” He told her with a grin.  “You know you can’t get rid of me that easy” He added, hugging her tight against him and kissing the top of her head.

She always went pink when he did that, that’s why he did it more often than he used to.

“I know,” She mumbled back.  “I just… you know…”

She doesn’t know what she wants to say.  That she’s scared to lose him too? That he’s the only anchor she had left? The only remnants of family she had left? That she loved him more than words could describe?

Whatever she had planned on filling the blank with, JJ seemed to understand her perfectly.  He’d gotten really good at understanding what she was trying to say in between the words she was actually saying.

“I know, baby,” He says softly.

Her head falls back onto his shoulder.  Selfishly, she wished that she could sit here with him like this every day.  Maybe then she'll start to really feel better.

Meanwhile there’s a nagging feeling in JJ’s chest.  Worry, fear, something terrible that began to manifest.  An anxiousness that (y/n) won’t emotionally recover from the disappearance of their friends.

He knew grief took time, that learning to cope took time.  But she’d already had to face those things time and time again, what if this was it? What if this was the last straw, and she gave into them?

His arm around her tightened a little, and (y/n) hummed as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.  She placed a little kiss there before sighing.

“Thanks, Jay,” She mumbles.  “You always know just what I need”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and rubs her arm comfortingly.

Despite her words, he still worries on the inside. ___

[ i gotta move on, but it hurts to try ]

August 10th, 1:00 a.m (The Night Of The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

(y/n) and JJ had been stuck under police supervision for the last three and a half hours, sitting under the large tents, listening to the heavy rainfall while passing officers would offer their condolences.

It was all bullshit though, and it was starting to piss (y/n) off.

But finally they were allowed to go home, and were escorted to the Chateau.  Which is where they stood now.

(y/n) looked like she was glued to the floorboards of the porch, frozen in place like a statue.  The wind whipped at her hair and the rain still hit them even as they stood under the little roof over them.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” JJ said, reaching out to take her hand, but even as he tugs, she hardly moves.  “(y/n)-”

“I don’t want to,” She mumbles, eyes trained on the front door.

A part of her longed to see John B appear, open the door with a laugh and scold the pair for standing outside in the rain.  The harder she looks, the more she wishes to see him there.

“But I don’t have anywhere else to go” She whimpered, finally tearing her eyes away from the door to look at him.

JJ steps forward, his arm wrapping around her back as he slowly guides her inside.  Her feet shuffle along, but they barely lift off the ground, and she’s barely moving.  He’s just glad to get her inside and out of the rain.

“I just don’t want you to catch a cold, sweetheart” He told her, which was true, but he just needed to say anything to get her to come into the house.  He didn’t know what he’d do if she refused.

“I don’t care” She mumbled, but she was already standing at the inside of the doorway.

“Shoes off,” JJ told her, having already left his shoes at the door and was heading into the house.  “You know how JB feels about shoes in the house”

(y/n) nods, shakily, and starts to kick off her shoes

But now all she can think about is the first time she’d accidentally tracked mud into the house, and how funny it was when John B freaked out.  Thinking about it now, it was just sad.

When JJ came back in the room, she was crying again, silently, she might not have even been aware she was doing it.  She was untying the laces on her boots as tears spilled over her cheeks.

“Come on,” He spoke, and suddenly there was a towel wrapped around her shoulders.  “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

“No,” She mumbled.  “I just want to lay down”

Her hands gripped onto the fluffy towel almost violently, her knuckles were white, and her hands shook from the force.  JJ noticed.

“And you will, but you’ve got to shower first,” He said.  “Look at you, you’re soaked to the bone from the rain-”

“JJ-”

“No arguments, lets go” He replied, quiet and calm as ever.

She gave in, mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue with him.  And then she was back to shuffling along with him to the bathroom.

She stood uselessly at the door while he turned the shower on for her.

“How hot do you want it?” He asked, one hand on the noz and the other under the stream of water

She shrugged, mumbled incoherently.

“You’ve got to speak up, honey” JJ said.

“I don’t care” She mumbled a little louder, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Yeah you do, I’ll put it on hot” He answered for her, and adjusted the nozzle accordingly.

But as he turned back, about to leave the room, she didn’t bother to move.  Her eyes were downcast, and her hands had released the towel only to wring her hands together.

“Hey, I’ll be in my room, you can-”

“Wait-”

She grabbed his wrist before he could leave the room, and her glossy eyes met his, her mouth opened but no words came out, so she closed it again.  He waited until she could find the right words.

“Please- please don’t leave me in here-”

Her breathing grew ragged and the tears started to fall from her eyelashes, and JJ nodded at her, silently confirming he'd stay so she would feel safe.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay right here,” He told her, both of his hands wrapping around hers.  “I’ll wait right in here for you, alright?”

She nods, still a bit shaky, but she turns towards the shower and slowly works on taking off her clothes, so he thinks he’s doing the right thing.

In all honesty, he had no idea what the right thing to do was.  As he turned his back to her and stressfully ran his hands through her hair, he didn’t know what to say or do, what the right way to comfort someone was.

He knew that Kiara and Pope were at home with their families, probably hugging, telling each other they love each other, the kind of shit you see in movies.

But you didn’t see this part of the movie.  The part where the girl you love is going borderline catanoic as she stands in the shower, limbs heavy and heart shattered.

Was he supposed to talk to her? Offer what few comforting words he knew how to say? Was he supposed to tell her he was there for her, that he loved her and he would never leave her? Was that an overload of information?

“JJ?” (y/n) called from the other side of the shower curtain.

“I’m here” He said, sitting on the toilet seat so he’d be right next to her.

She peeled back the curtain, just enough to peek her head out, and then held her hand out to him.  A slight frown tugged on his lips, but he reached his hand out to hers anyways, softly clasping onto it, as though if he’d put any pressure into holding it, then she’d break like a porcelain doll.

She closed the curtain again and went about her shower.  It wasn’t a bother with only one hand, but JJ could still hear her soft whimpers from inside.

After ten minutes she turned off the water.

“Close your eyes” She directed, her voice was still a mumble, but without the noise of the water running JJ heard her clearly, and followed her order.

Her hand let go of his as she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself, but it was only briefly, as she was grabbing onto it again as soon as she was covered up.  She gave it a small squeeze to let him know that she was decent.

When he looked up at her, she was staring down at their hands, focused on the rings on his fingers.

The one on his thumb, she had given to him.  Not for a special occasion, she’d just found it in a shop and thought it would look fitting and cool on him.  

She was right.  

He never took it off.

There was another ring on his middle finger, that one was from John B.  He’d swiped it from a second hand shop because it had a neat but very faint engraving of a snake around it.  He’d originally stolen it for himself, but it hadn’t fit right, so he handed it off to JJ.

(y/n) ran the pad of her thumb over the engraving now.  The snake wasn’t very visible, but she could still feel it.

JJ squeezed her hand, drawing her eyes back to his.

She wasn’t whimpering anymore, but the tears hadn’t stopped.  She had to be exhausted.

“I’ve gotta take a shower baby,” He said softly.  “You want to go to bed?”

She shook her head, looking back at his rings.

“You want to wait in here?” He asked.

With a small nod from her, he stood up, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to the crown of her head before turning the water and going through the same routine again.

It took some time as he showered and (y/n) waited for him on the toilet.  When he’d finished and gotten out to find that she was still wrapped in her towel, he’d convinced her to let him help her change into pajamas.

When she’d finished, she wrapped her arms around his neck, stepping forward and hugging him gently, with little to no force at all.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed” JJ said, lifting her up with ease, one arm hooked under her legs and the other.

“You’ll stay, right?” She asks meekly as he brings her to his room.

“Of course” He hums back.

They get situated under the covers, and finally (y/n’s) tears seem to stop.  JJ doesn’t keep his hopes up, though.

He pulls her head to his chest, one arm wrapping around her back at his other hand takes a hold of hers.  For good measure, she hooks her leg over one of his, just to be sure she won’t roll away from him in her sleep.

“You won’t leave?” She murmurs.

The exhaustion and the misery that her body is facing is clear to him as she tilts her head back to look at him.

He gives her a small smile, before letting go of her hand, so that he can take the ring off of his middle finger.  He takes her hand again, and slides it over her thumb.  It’s a little loose, enough that she can twirl it around with ease.

“Now you can have a little bit of both of us with you,” JJ says to her.  “I’m not goin’ anywhere”

She doesn’t quite smile, but her expression relaxes as she looks at him, and he takes it as a good sign.

“I’ve got you, baby” He tells her softly as she settles against him, sleep finally starting to overcome her.

“I can’t lose you too” She tells him right before her body gives out. ___

[ how do i love? how do i trust again? ]

November 10th, 6:30 p.m (Precisely Three Months After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

(y/n) had been sitting on the couch all afternoon, replaying the day’s events in her head like a flashback scene in a movie.

She’d woken up with JJ, they made breakfast and went on a walk, avoiding the beach.  They went to visit Kiara at The Wreck with Pope, and then went back to the Chateau to do some chores.

(y/n) liked to keep the place tidy and clean.  It gave her something to do, and deep down, she knew that if John B came home, he’d be happy to see everything was just how he left it.  If not a little more organized thanks to her.

And then they’d gotten the call from the Sheriff’s Department.

JJ came into the room, a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of advil in the other.

“Here” He said, handing them both to her.

“I don’t need it, my head doesn’t hurt” (y/n) replied quietly, barely even looking at him.

“Not now, but from the look on your face I can tell it’s going to soon.  Just take it now, please” JJ said, holding out the cup and bottle towards her again.

(y/n) gave in, knowing he was right, and there was no use in arguing with him because he’d only bother her until she just took the pill.

JJ sat down next to her as she swallowed down the medicine, along with a few more drinks of water.  She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was, and suddenly wondered how long she’d been sitting there.

“Where do you think they are?” JJ asked out of nowhere, and she turned to him.

“What?” She asked, voice barely above a mumble.

“John B and Sarah,” He said their names so easily, so casually her heart clenched.  

She almost never spoke their names.  And when she did, she was usually in a fit of tears.

“Where do you think they are?” JJ repeated his question.

(y/n’s) mouth opened, then closed.  And then open and closed again.  She didn’t understand what he was asking.

JJ could tell, and he sat back to stretch out on the soda, his legs kicking out as his back leaned against the arm rest.  (y/n) turned her body to look at him properly, but didn’t crawl into his arms like he’d expected.  She was too confused trying to comprehend what he was saying.

“I think they’re in Florida,” JJ thought aloud, realizing (y/n) wasn’t going to entertain the question.  “And I think they got married”

“Married?” She mumbled, blinking at him.  “You think they’re... alive?”

“Of course,” JJ said, as sincerely as he could.  “Don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.

“There’s no way they aren’t.  John B’s a pretty tough guy, and Sarah’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.  More stubborn than you” He spoke with such ease, it threw (y/n) off.  

His knee knocked against her side, and he held his hand out to her, beckoning her to lay with him.

Warily, she leaned forward, crawling into the space between his legs, and then flipping over to rest back against his chest.  JJ’s arms wrapped around her middle naturally, and he continued to let his thoughts roam free.

“Do you think they’ve got some new treasure hunt going down there?” He whispered into her ear.

“Yes” (y/n) replied, finally giving in to the conspiracy.

“Yeah?” JJ asked, glad that was entertained by the idea, and hopefully comforted too.

“Yeah… I’ll bet… I’ll bet they’re tracking more gold… or… or jewels… or something”

JJ smiled at how hard she tried to let herself get used to the idea.  He knew how badly she wanted to move on, and how she felt stuck in the past.  This was a significant step forward, and he was more proud of her than he let on.  He just didn’t want her to think he pitied her.

“They’re probably filthy rich by now,” JJ told her.  “She’s probably turned him full Kook”

“In a good way,” (y/n) spoke, her smile shining through her words.  “He was so…”

“Whipped” JJ muttered.

“In love,” (y/n) corrected with a soft exhale.  “They only had a week together before they… left,” She said carefully.  “And I… I’ve known John B my whole life and he’d never looked at anyone the way he looked at Sarah”

From where her head laid on his chest, JJ couldn’t see well, but he just knew that she was smiling as she spoke, reminiscing in the good memories.

“So you think they got married when they got to Florida?” JJ asked, speaking it like it was a truth.

“Yeah, I think they just might have,” (y/n) said.  She thought for a moment, and then let out a small giggle.

He was surprised by the sound, especially when it erupted into more joyous laughter.

“You know,” She ponders aloud, “I think that when they got wherever they were headed, and realized they were safe and alive, he proposed to her right then”

“Yeah?” JJ asked, amused, and revelling in the sound of her laughter.  

He had missed the sound so much, he’d worried he’d never hear it again.  He closed his eyes as he listened to her soft giggles, and melted at the way her back slightly shook against his chest.

“Yeah,” (y/n) confirmed, and one of her hands reached for his that lied on her stomach.  “It probably wasn’t romantic at all.  He probably didn’t even get on one knee”

“You’re so right,” JJ laughed with her.  “He probably was just like ‘we should get married’ and Sarah was like ‘oh John B, i love you!’ And-”

(y/n) burst into laughter at JJ’s high pitched impression of Sarah.  It didn’t sound like her, it didn’t even sound like any girl, but it made her belly laugh, and she sat up slightly so she could turn to look at him.

“Why are you laughing at me? That was a spot on impression” He told her.

“No, it wasn’t,” (y/n) said, shaking her head as she looked down at him.

There were crinkles at her eyes and her lips were pulled into the widest smile he’d seen from her in months.

He had convinced himself that he wasn’t 100% sure what love felt like, but right now it felt like his heart might just burst because of it.

He hadn’t just missed her laugh.  He’d missed her.

“It’s almost like you have no idea what a woman sounds like- but Jay, you’ve been living with one for like three years now- what?” (y/n) had cut herself off from her teasing when she saw the way he was staring at her.

He looked sad, but he was smiling, so she didn’t know what to think.  Usually she could read him pretty well, but she’d never seen this look before.

“What?” She asked again.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason, I just…”

JJ sits up, trying to find the right words as he instinctively grabs a hold of her.  She turns to face him again, her legs hooking behind him as she waits for him to continue.

“I’m just thinking” He finishes.

“Well that’s dangerous,” She replies, the banter coming as naturally as it used to.  She lets out a little snort of a laugh as she smiles at him.  “What about?”

JJ’s hands smooth around her hips, the way they did earlier when they’d gotten the call from Officer Thomas himself, but now it wasn’t to comfort, it was simply because he could.

“You ever think about what would have happened if we never went on that treasure hunt?” He asked, quietly, like he was trying not to upset her.

She goes still, but she doesn’t push him away, and she doesn’t choke up.

“All the time” She murmurs back.

Her voice comes out through a quiet exhale, and if he wasn’t so close, he might not have heard it.  But in the last three months his ears had been practically trained to hear her every breath, and catch on to every mumble.

“Really?” He asked, and she nodded, her bottom lip tucking in between her teeth as she looked back at him.

“Of course,” She quietly replied.  “How else do you think I keep sane during all the quiet moments?”

It’s a sweet thing to say, paired with a soft smile that JJ felt relieved to see.

“Well then what do you think we’d be doing right now?”

“Something stupid,” She answered right away, followed by a small laugh.  “Something sketchy.  That’s all we ever did”

“We fished too, fishing’s legal.  And surfing, that’s legal too”

“That’s fair,” (y/n) hummed.  “Kie and Sarah would’ve gotten along better,” She added.  “It would’ve been nice to have a girls day”

“I’ll have a girls day with you” JJ told her, making her laugh again.

“I know you would,” She said, setting her hands on his shoulders.  “But it’s not the same”

JJ shrugged.

“You can braid my hair and put makeup on me, what else do you do on a girls day?” He asked, and again, she giggled.

He hoped he could keep making her laugh.

“What do you think we’d be up to?” She asked once the laughter subsided and she was left staring into those baby blue eyes again.

“Macking”

The laughter bubbled back over, her hands swatting at his shoulders as she threw her head back.

“Well you don’t have to laugh that much,” JJ said, brows furrowed as he pouted.  “It’s true, we would be”

“Maybe,” (y/n) corrected.  “If you’d ever actually made a move, maybe”

“What do you mean ever actually made a move?” He asked, offended.  “I maed plenty of moves! Lots and lots of moves”

“Oh really?” (y/n) asked, quirking an eyebrow.  “I don’t think we’re remembering it the same way, because I only seem to remember you scaring other boys away from me...”

“Well, yeah, among other things,” JJ said, shrugging casually.  “Can’t have a bunch of lame Tourons crowding my girl”

She laughed at his idea of flirting, but she knew fully well that it had always worked.  JJ Maybank was charming in his own unique way, and even now it made her melt in his hands.

“So you’re saying that eventually you would have done something about it?”

“About it?”

“Yeah, you know, whatever was… between us,” (y/n) clarified, her finger twirling around the space between them.  “I have a hard time believing you would have asked me out”

“I would have!” JJ said, pretending to take offense at her accusation.  “Eventually”

“Mhm,” She hummed, and then shook her head.  “Well, we’ll never know now,” She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap as she started to fiddle.  “I think we skipped a couple steps”

“I think we skipped all the steps, sweetheart,” JJ chuckled, taking her hands so she would stop fidgeting.  “But that’s alright, I wouldn’t take it any other way.  You’d be the only one for me no matter what happens,”

Her face turns a rosy shade of pink, which brings JJ to kiss both of her cheeks with a proud grin.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked.  “Have the what are we conversation”

Surprisingly, (y/n) shrugs and shakes her head.

“I mean, I don’t think we really have to, do you?” She asks softly.  “If there’s no one else for you, and no one else for me…” She trails off, her eyes flickering in between his.  “I think it’s pretty clear to me”

“Yeah,” JJ agrees, nodding his head.  “Pretty clear,” He repeats.  “I just hope you know what you’re getting into” He teases.

She giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned in closer.

“I’ve lived with you for quite some time now, I think I know exactly what I’m getting into”

There’s a beat that passes between them, a quiet, contemplative beat.

But then (y/n’s) shaking her head, and she’s smiling at him so brightly that it’s contagious.

And then she leans over just a little bit, just enough to tenderly press her lips against his.

He’s quick to react, his hands reaching up to her face, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

She’s so slow and careful with her movements, and JJ thinks it might have been the softest kiss he’s ever been given.  Her lips are warm, inviting, and he begins to kick himself for not making a proper move on her back when everything wasn’t so heavy.

They pull away, their grins equally wide, and (y/n) leans her forehead into his, her eyes still shut.  JJ stares at her, awestruck, admiring every curve and freckle on her face.

His hands fall to her waist again, and he pulls her down onto the couch with him, allowing her to tuck herself in against his side as they lay comfortably.

They talk for a long time, theorizing on where they’d be now in another life, and what Sarah and John B are up to, wherever they are.  There’s a few tears that JJ has to wipe from the girl’s cheeks, but she’s smiling.

She has hope, for the first time in months, she’s filled with hope and love and deep down she truly believes things will get better.

Even if the day started with the Sheriff’s Department calling to let them know that John B and Sarah Cameron are officially and legally declared dead, since they’d been missing for three months.

It might get worse before it gets better.  But it was bound to get better. ___

[ i stay up all night, tell myself i’m alright // baby you’re just harder to see than most ]

February 19th, 2:45 p.m (Six Months After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

“I’m not sayin’ that I will key their cars,” JJ argues, “I’m just saying that I would!”

Pope and Kiara burst into fits of laughter, knowing full well that JJ would bust up Kook property at any given chance, even unprovoked.

(y/n) rolled her eyes from next to him, patting his arm gently.

“Sure, Jay, sure” She says, completely unconvinced.

Normally he’d continue to argue that he was just making a joke, but no one would believe him, and truth be told, he wouldn’t even believe himself.

They’d all gotten together today to hang out and eat lunch at The Wreck.  It was one of Kiara’s off days, so for once she actually got to sit at the table with her friends.  It was a nice afternoon, and definitely much needed quality time.

“You want more water?” (y/n) hummed, already picking up her and JJ’s empty glasses.

“Sure, thanks,” He answered with a charming smile while she got up.  “Oh, but wait” He called, reaching out for her arm before she could walk away.

“What?”

He tugged on her arm so she would bend over and he could swiftly kiss her cheek.  She giggled, swatting gently at his bicep, but nonetheless she blushed as she headed off to the counter.

Kiara and Pope each made their faces at JJ.  Winks, wiggling eyebrows, wide eyes, smirks, they couldn’t help it.

“Shut up, both of you” JJ chuckled before they could even say anything.

“We didn’t say anything” Pope grumbled.

“It’s just about time, that’s all,” Kiara said, putting her hands up in surrender.  “You two have been dancing that dance for years”

JJ didn’t say anything, just smiled as he poked around his plate of fries.

“Look at him, he’s so in love with her” Kiara cooed.

But Pope wasn’t looking at him at all, he’d turned in his seat when he’d caught sight of Rafe Cameron eyeing (y/n).  He’d known it wasn’t a good sign.

“Pope,” Kiara called, trying to get his attention, but realized his gaze was focused elsewhere.  “What are you…” She trailed off, turning to follow his line of sight.

She only groaned at the sight of Rafe, before turning back to their own table.  Kooks came to The Wreck on occasion, but not usually Kooks like Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, who were in a booth across the restaurant.

“What’s he doing?” Pope mumbled, now watching Rafe get up from his booth, and make his way to the counter, where (y/n) was chatting with one of the servers.

JJ started to get up, but Pope was quick to put a hand up.

“Wait, doesn’t start anything,” He warned, and for some reason, JJ listened to him.  “(y/n) was friends with Sarah”

“That guy’s a fucking prick- and a murderer-” JJ started to argue, but Pope hushed him, telling him to keep his voice down.

“Just wait a minute before you swoop in there and make a scene,” Pope said.  “He’s Sarah’s brother, Sarah was a good person”

JJ muttered a string of profanities, but sat back down in his seat.  He didn’t take his eyes away from the counter though.

“(y/n) (y/l/n),” Rafe called, letting out a low whistle that made JJ bristle.  “Long time no see”

(y/n) barely looked at him before shooting her gaze down to the cups of water.  JJ can tell that she’s playing with the ring on her thumb.

“Yeah, I haven’t really been… around” She’d answered.

“Why doesn’t he just say his piece and leave” JJ muttered, both of his hands in his lap, curling into tight fists.

“That’s too bad” Rafe responded.

(y/n) wasn’t giving him any of her attention, so JJ knew he shouldn’t be so upset right now.  But he didn’t trust Rafe for as far as he could throw him, and he definitely didn’t trust him around (y/n).

“She can hold her own” Pope reminded him, knowing that JJ was starting to see red.

Yeah, but he’s a creep, he thought to himself.

“I’m sorry about Sarah,”

(y/n) spoke suddenly, soft and sweet, displaying nothing but kindness to a boy she knew wouldn’t know what kindness felt like if someone handed it right to him.

“I didn’t get to know her as well as I would have liked, but… I did like her a lot.  She was definitely a special-”

Rafe cut her off before she could say anything more.

“Well, you move on fast, don’t you?” He snarled.

(y/n) blinked, eyes going wide at the rude comment, even if she didn’t understand it.

“What-?”

“Your Pogue boyfriend’s only dead for a few months and you’ve already latched onto another, huh?” He asked, gesturing towards JJ.

(y/n’s) eyes wandered over to her boyfriend, who had just stood up from his seat with such force it fell backwards, and was now making his way over.

Please don’t get in a fight, she begged silently.  Please don’t make a scene, this isn’t worth the attention of the whole restaurant.

“Rafe, you’ve got it all wrong,” She told him quietly, trying to diffuse the situation herself.  “John B wasn’t my boyfriend, we grew up together, he was a brother to me-”

“You’re disgusting,” Rafe spat at her.  “If it wasn’t for your Pogue friends and your Pogue slut self, Sarah wouldn’t be dead right now!”

It felt like (y/n’s) heart stopped at the cruel accusation, and for a moment, she thought she might burst into tears in front of him.

“She’s not dead” She mumbled, her throat going tight.

JJ was at her side in a second, his arm winding around her hips and pulling her into him, about to drag her away without a word to Rafe.  He knew she didn’t want him to act out, and as hard as it was, he didn’t want to let her down.

He prompted her to follow him back to the table, forgetting about the water on the counter, he just wanted to get her out of this restaurant as fast as possible

“She is dead, they’re both dead because of you!” Rafe called after her, desperate to get the last word in.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” JJ hollered back, throwing the Kook a threatening look over his shoulder.

“That’s fine sweetheart!” Rafe shouted, and (y/n) tried her best to block him out.  “Let your shiny new toy fight your fights for you! Just like John B did.  Do all the Pogues you fuck become your guard dog?”

That was it.

Any chance of her crying went out the window and next thing she knew, she was ripping herself out of JJ’s hold and lunging towards Rafe, swinging without any aim, but enough force that when she hit the Kook in the nose, she could feel the crunch of cartilage against her knuckles, and blood splattered onto the counter.

“You bitch-!”

Rafe barely had a chance to fight back before JJ was grabbing (y/n) by the waist, lifting her up and physically carrying her out of The Wreck.  Pope and Kiara hastily followed them out, laughing joyously.

“Are you crazy?” JJ asked, only setting her down once they were down the street, and they were certain that a group of Kooks wouldn’t follow after them to finish what (y/n) had started.

She was still scowling, and rubbing at her jaw where Rafe had just barely nicked her with his knuckles.

“Fuck,” JJ grinned at her, taking her by surprise.  “You are crazy”

“You’re not mad?” She asked, and all three of her friends laughed.

“Mad? Of course not, you just broke Rafe Cameron’s nose, baby!” JJ cheered, cupping her face in his hands and pressing a quick kiss to her lips, and then her nose, and then her cheek.  “That’s my girl!”

The whooping and hollering of her boyfriend, echoed by Pope and Kie, made her blush red and butterflies erupt in her chest.  Breaking a Kook’s nose was a strange thing to feel bashful about, but the attention made her shy.

“Come on, let’s get home and ice that before it bruises” JJ said, nodding to her jaw.

As they made their way to the Chateau, their hands latched and swinging between them, JJ continued to gush over how badass and amazing she was, no matter how much she laughed it off and begged him to stop making her blush. ___

[ every night i’m dancing with your ghost ]

February 19th, 3:15 p.m

“You’re lucky I pulled you outta there before he landed a whole punch,” JJ told (y/n) as he pressed a bag of frozen peas against her jaw.  “This coulda hurt a lot worse, why didn’t you duck babe?”

(y/n) let out a huff, swinging her legs from where she sat on the kitchen counter.  JJ was standing between them, coddling her much more than necessary.

“I dunno, I’m not some pro fighter like you” She retorted, and hissed when he pressed a little too hard against the sensitive skin.

“I know that was supposed to be sarcastic, but I’m gonna take it as a compliment anyways,” JJ retorted, earning a good natured eye roll from the girl.  “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

“I know,” She giggled back.  “You haven’t shut up about it”

“Can’t help it, it was fuckin’ awesome,” JJ gushed again.  “It was so hot, the most perfect punch, I wish I coulda taken a picture of the look on Rafe’s face, priceless.  You’re such a badass, I fucking love you”

He didn’t seem to catch what he’d said, but (y/n) did.  

Her eyes blew wide, and her lips parted momentarily, at a loss for words.  And since she didn’t know what to say, she decided the next best thing was to lean forward and capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss took JJ by surprise at first, but then the realization of what he’d said hit him, and he pulled away from her abruptly.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean- well I did, but I-”

“JJ,” (y/n) giggled as he rambled, her hands laying across his cheeks.  “It’s okay, I-”

They were cut off by the phone ringing, which was odd, because it wasn’t their cellphone’s ringtone.  It took a second to even realize that the Chateau had a landline.

“What the fuck?” (y/n) pushed the bag of peas JJ was still holding away from her face, and hopped off the counter.  “Who even has this number? Oh my god, do you think it’s Thomas again?”

(y/n’s) heart began to race as she darted out of the kitchen towards the phone hanging on the wall.

“(y/n/n)- do you want me to take it?” JJ asked, worried that she’d freak herself out too much to actually answer the phone.

But she’d already unhooked the phone from the wall.

“Routledge Residence, (y/n) speaking”

There was a chuckle on the other side of the line, followed by a teasing, “I just knew that you weren’t gonna move out”

JJ couldn’t hear what the caller had said, but from the look on (y/n’s) face, he knew it couldn’t have been a telemarketer.

She dropped to her knees, the cord on the phone uncoiling completely as it stretched all the way down.  A choked sound between a sob and a gasp escaped her, and in a second, JJ was kneeling in front of her, jumping right into panic attack mode.

“(y/n/n), what is it? Who is it?”

“JJ there too? How are you guys-”

“John B?” (y/n) mumbled, voice shaky, scared that this was some practical joke at her expense.

JJ’s eyes went wide, and she finally looked up at him, his jaw slack.

“The one and only,” He laughed again.  “Guess I’m lucky you were at the house, I don’t remember any other phone numbers”

“I can’t believe it- are you okay? Is Sarah okay? Holy shit, John-”

“We’re okay, we’re both okay,” He chuckled, cutting her off.  “You’re not gonna believe this… but… we’ve got it”

“You’ve got it?” She repeated, confused.

“The gold, (y/n), we’ve got the gold”

“No shit-”

“Sarah says hi by the way,” He added.  “We’ll be back as soon as we can with it, okay? I don’t know when, but we’re working on it”

“What’s he saying?” JJ asked, but (y/n’s) brain was in a clusterfuck of information.

“I miss you- well all miss you- we miss you so much” She stammered out.

“We miss you too, (y/n)!” Sarah called, sounding distant through the speaker.

“We miss you a lot,” John B added,  “I’m sorry we didn’t call earlier, we just had to be sure there way it could get tracked-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I forgive you,” (y/n) said through a watery laugh.  “Just- just be safe, and get back as soon as you can, okay?”

“We will, promise,” John B replied.  “And I’ll try to call more too, okay? Look we’re… we’re working it all out right now”

“Okay, good,” (y/n) sighed, and wiped her teary cheeks with the back of her hand.  “I can’t wait to see you both”

“And when you do, we’ll be millions of dollars richer,” He told her.  “Look, we have to get going, Sarah has work.  The Kook Princess has a job here!” He told her with a laugh.  “I’ll call you when I can, alright?”

“Alright,” She agreed.  “Okay, call soon”

“Stay safe, (y/n/n), talk to you soon”

“Bye, John B”

He hung up, leaving the phone to ring a low dull sound, and (y/n) and JJ to stare at each other in amazement.

“They have the gold” (y/n) mumbled out.

“For real?”

“For real,” She nods back at him.  “They’re working on a plan to come home-”

Before she can finish, he tackles her to the ground, hugging her tight, and just letting the phone hang by it’s cord.  They’re laughing, she’s crying, and they can’t remember the last time they’ve felt joy like this before.

(y/n) sits up slightly, enough to wrap her arms around him and kiss him chastely.

“They’re in the Bahamas, and Sarah has a job, and- and they’re gonna come home” She rambled on as tears streamed down her face faster than JJ could wipe them away.

He’s grinning at her, kissing her whole face, everywhere he could.

She starts to giggle from the kisses, her shoulders raising from the ticklish feeling.

“JJ- JJ!” She cried out, having to grab him by his shoulders to get him to chill out.  “We have to go tell Pope and Kie!” “Okay, come on, let’s get going, I’ll drive you there now” JJ said, pulling her up to her feet, but before racing for the door, he wrapped his arms around her and spun her around in the air.

“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it!” (y/n) cried out, giggling when he finally set her back down, and grabbed her hand before dashing for the front door.  “We’re going out tonight, baby!” She was so ecstatic, her body was practically vibrating.

He laughed, grabbing the keys to his dirtbike from the counter.

“Wait wait wait, JJ!” (y/n) called, her grip tightening on his hand as she pulled him back towards her.

“What? What is it?” He asked in a hurry, his eyes wild as he looked back at her.

She just grinned at him, before pulling him in closer, and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could kiss him.

She could feel his tenseness fade away, and when she smiled it broke their kiss.

“I love you too,” She told him, her smile brightening before she reached up and stole another kiss.  “And I’m glad you’re here with me, always”

“Well, we do live together, sweetheart,” He teased.  “But you know I’d never go anywhere else”

“I know,” She hummed, and leaned in to kiss him one more time.  “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, quit trying to distract me!”

(y/n) laughed as she followed him out the door, an overwhelming amount of delight flooding through her as she got on the back of JJ’s bike, rehearsing in her head what she wanted to say to their friends, and how impatient she was to see John B again.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[triptuckers]

Nightmares - Kaz Brekker

Request: yes! “My favorite writer is accepting requests again? Love that for me (and everyone else who gets to read your writing) So I had this idea if that’s okay where like the reader and Kaz are dating but they’re still sleeping in separate rooms because Kaz isn’t quite there yet in overcoming his trauma to share a bed. And then one night he hears screams coming out off your room so he goes to you as fast as possible but turns out it was just because you had a nightmare and then how Kaz would deal with that in terms of comforting? Hopefully this is something that you’re okay with writing but no problems if not because I’ll still look forward to your other stories 💗” Pairing:  kaz brekker x reader Summary:  you wake up from a nightmare and kaz comforts you Warnings: angst, some language  Word count:  1.4K A/N: sljflskjklfj someone’s favorite writer?? ME??? anon you have no idea how incredibly happy this made me !!! have a kiss on the forehead mwah

There was a small room attached to Kaz’ office, which he always used as storage. He called it a storage room, but it was more of a dump of papers, really. When things between you got serious, you started to spend more and more time in his office. 

You’d often fall asleep on his couch, and wake up with back pain due to the uncomfortable positions you fell asleep in. 

That’s when Kaz decided to clean out the storage room. Once all of the papers were taken out and sorted into neat piles, there was just enough room in it for a small bed.

When Kaz first showed it to you, he was a bit nervous. He thought you wouldn’t like it. But you beamed with happiness and told him you loved it. You’ve been sleeping in the small room ever since that day.

Often Kaz is still busy, running around the crow club doing god knows what, and you’re the first one to arrive back at his office. When you do, you always leave him a note on his desk, letting him know you’ve gone to bed already. Kaz then slowly opens the door to your room, whispers you goodnight, and heads to his own room. It was a nice routine you’d fallen into. A bit of calm in the chaos of Ketterdam.

Tonight isn’t any different.

You’re almost asleep, when you hear the door slowly opening.

In the dark, you can just make out Kaz’ shape in the doorway.

‘Goodnight.’ he whispers.

You smile. ‘Goodnight.’ you whisper back. 

He closes the door again, and only seconds later, you fall asleep.

Kaz walks to his bathroom to take off his gloves and wash his face. It’s already dark outside, and normally he’d still sit at his desk to work. But he figured he could skip one night, and actually get some sleep.

Besides, if he didn’t, and you would find out the next morning, you’d make him take a nap anyway.

He changes into a pair of more comfortable clothes and lays down in his bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. Immediately, he feels his body getting heavier. 

Maybe he should listen to you more often, and get enough sleep every night. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Just as fast as he fell asleep, Kaz also wakes up.

He looks over at his bedside table, and notices it’s in the middle of the night. Kaz rolls over, ready to fall back asleep, when he hears a sound.

A piercing scream, sounding like someone is in pain.

But that’s not what makes him jump up, it’s the fact that it’s your voice that terrifies him.

In a second, he’s up, grabbing his cane in case he needs to hit someone, and he throws open the door of his room.

His office is empty, and you’re nowhere to be seen. But then he hears you screaming again. It’s coming from your small bedroom. 

Instantly, he walks over to the door and roughly opens it. His cane is raised, in case there’s an attacker who made their way into the room.

But you’re the only one who’s there.

Your eyes are shut, a pained expression on your face. Somewhere during the night, you’d thrown your blanket off, and you’re clinging onto your pillow. You mumble incoherent words.

Kaz reaches out with his cane to nudge your leg, given that he’s not wearing his gloves. You stir slightly, but don’t wake up. He nudges you again, a little harder. This time, you do wake up.

You launch into a sitting position and Kaz instinctively takes a step back, creating some distance between you. For a few seconds, you look around with widened, frightened eyes, but once your eyes land on Kaz, you relax a bit.

‘Saints.’ you murmur as you press your hands against your face. 

Kaz studies your face as you wipe cold sweat from your forehead.

‘Did I wake you?’ you softly ask him, avoiding his eyes.

His heart breaks at the sight of you, looking so vulnerable and shaken. The way your hair sticks to your neck and shoulders in a sticky, sweaty mess. There’s tears in the corners of your eyes.

‘Yes, but it’s alright.’ he says.

‘Sorry.’ you say. ‘It was just a nightmare. You can go back to sleep.’

But he doesn’t want to go back to sleep. Not now you’re so shaken, clearly in need of some comfort.

‘Are you okay?’ says Kaz.

‘I'm fine.’ you say.

‘Okay, so look me in the eyes when you say that.’ says Kaz. ‘So I know you’re not lying.’

You lift your gaze and look at him. 

‘I'm fine.’ you say again, but Kaz shakes his head.

‘No, you’re not.’ he says. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

‘It’s a nightmare, Kaz. I'm not a child, I can handle it on my own.’ you say.

‘You screamed, Y/N.’ he says. 

Your eyes widen at his words. ‘Fuck, really?’ you say. He nods. ‘That means they’re getting worse.’ you mumble, more to yourself than telling Kaz.

‘Come on.’ says Kaz, gesturing to his office behind his back. ‘Let’s get you out of this tiny room first.’

You hesitate, but follow him anyway. 

‘Talk to me.’ says Kaz, as he sits down on the edge of his desk. He looks at you, waiting for you to talk.

‘They’re about you.’ you say softly. 

Kaz’ features soften as he gestures for you to go on.

‘They’re about losing you. All of them.’ you mumble. ‘You’re hurt and I can never get to you in time. When I wake up, it usually helps when I get up and go see you in your room. It helps because I can see with my own eyes you’re alright, and it was just a dream.’

Kaz is silent as he looks at you. You wrap your arms around your body, feeling a bit uncomfortable. You’re an open book to Kaz, but admitting you have nightmares about losing him felt a bit too personal. Even for your taste.

‘I'm here now.’ says Kaz, looking at you. ‘I'm alright.’ 

You nod. ‘I know.’ you say. ‘I'll go back to sleep. And sorry again for waking you.’

You move walk back to your small room, but Kaz speaks up.

‘Y/N?’ he says, making you stop and turn around to face him. ‘Do you want to stay in my room for the rest of the night?’

‘No, that’s alright, you could barely fit in my small room.’ you say with a smile. ‘But I appreciate it.’

Kaz frowns slightly. ‘No, I mean, I'd stay in my room as well.’ he says.

‘Kaz, there’s a reason why we sleep in separate rooms.’ you tell him. ‘You know why. And this works for both of us.’

‘I know.’ says Kaz. ‘But you’re clearly still upset, you’re still visibly shaking. We could keep our distance, it’ll be alright.’

Still, you’re not convinced. ‘Are you sure?’ you say. ‘I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with for my sake. This is a huge step for you.’

‘I'm willing to try for you.’ says Kaz. 

‘Alright.’ you say. ‘But you need to communicate with me, okay? If I'm doing something you’re not comfortable with, tell me. And if you want me to go back to my own room, that’s perfectly fine, you can just tell me.’

Kaz nods and walks to his room. You follow him, and are grateful his bed is much larger than yours. He sets his cane aside and lays down on the left side of the bed. You cross the room to the other side of the bed, and lay down.

It’s a bit awkward at first. There’s so much space between you, you almost fall off the bed on your side. 

But then Kaz reaches out and hooks his pinky around yours. 

It’s kind of like his way of hugging. You knew it would take years for him to be comfortable with touches like hugs, if he’d ever be comfortable with it in the first place. 

Right now, you’re grateful for the feeling of his skin on yours, even if it’s the bare minimum, it’s comforting.

You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of your intertwined fingers. Even if the nightmares got to you again, you knew Kaz would be alright. He’d be right there next to you. 

You take a deep breath, mumble a ‘Thank you’ to Kaz, and fall back asleep.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[kim-poce]

30 - Evie and Chris (part 3)

Previous | Next

Masterlist

CW: mention of panphobia, mention of kidnapping, mention of alcohol.

=-=

“… I don’t remember you, that’s right but, you never left my mind since that day in the alley,” Chris said firmly.

Evie got up in a jump; he shouldn’t know it. He shouldn’t remember anything at all. So how? “How?” she demanded to know, just then noticing that he had both his hands raised due to a firm grip she had on the collar of his shirt.

Her hand trembled for a second; hesitation. But what use would all the training have if she let hesitation overcome her? What? She talked to him one times and suddenly she can’t hurt him? She tightened her grip. “I made you a question.”

“I just know,” Chris said, he still had a small smile, but his heart was racing, Evie was secretly happy that he wasn’t showing so much fear, she didn’t want him scared. “I just… I don’t remember anything, but when I look at you, I feel what I felt back then, also, you know me, you said you talked to me. I would remember meeting Evie Fortery, since I don’t I just-”

“Evenly,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes before letting him go. Chris just sat on the bed. “You don’t know me, or work for me, so: Evelyn.”

“As you wish, Evelyn” Chris said, his smile changing from time to time but never vanishing. “Do you still want to talk?”

Evie sighed, him remembering something didn’t really change things, right? No it didn’t, she was that desperate. In truth, she was… happy, in an odd, hurting way that she, in a way, occupied a space in his memory, even if blurry and little. She lie down, resting her head on him again, because she wanted to. She wanted some affection so much.

“Are you curious?” She asked, glancing up to the freckles on his face.

“About waking up alone, in clothes that weren’t mine, smelling alcohol and with no memory? Yeah, I guess you can say I’m pretty curious.”

“I’m pan,” she said, Chris frowned at the unexpected —and seemly unrelated to anything— piece of information. “My mother hated when I slept with anyone that wasn’t a man so, unfortunately often, she kidnapped some random guy, and she put them naked and tied inside my room.”

Chris paused, fear running with his blood, he messaged his wrists, the spot where, years back, there were mysterious rope bruises.

“Most of them were drugged out of their mind. She put them there so I could “use” them, and become a “real woman” or some nonsense like this.”

Chris swallowed hard, “D-did you-”

“Of course not!” She said, offended, Chris visibly relaxed at that, “I used to drop them off somewhere, after making sure they wouldn’t remember a thing.”

“Like me.”

“Like you,” she agreed, “But you were different, you talked to me, I…” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “I had never… talked like that and- well, you helped me, I never forgot it.”

Chris put his hand on her head, slowly and carefully. He was still shaken up from how fast she could hurt him if she wanted, how he had no way of defending himself. She wouldn’t hurt him, he —somehow— knew, but it didn’t change the fact that she could.

As he ran his finger through her short blonde hair, he did the quick math, “It was over a decade ago.”

“Yes.”

“What happened now? For you to come here after so long?”

Evie gave off a broken smile, “My life is a messy, and I have to accept I can’t fix it…” She raised her scarred hands, landing it softly on Chris’ face, “What if we sleep?” Evie asked. “Don’t look at me like this, I truly meant sleep.”

“I thought you wanted to talk,” he said with a smile.

“I can’t without a few bottles of whiskey, and to be honest, I don’t want to get drunk today, much less with someone as lightweight as you, for someone who owns a pub you sure can’t drink.”

“This is a cruel statement,” Chris said, gently lifting Evie’s head from his lap, laying down right after. He was about to close his eyes, even Evie touched his face again. He looked into her dark eyes, the effect he had felt was not there anymore, as if it weakens the more one look at it.

“Thank you,” Evie said, and before Chris could say something, “For looking at me.”

Chris smiled, a sad smile, he knew it wasn’t his place to ask why ‘looking at her’ was a big thing, so he just kept looking for a while before closing his eyes, “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“I don’t know,” Evie said, hugging Chris close, and resting his head on her shoulder, “Let’s just sleep.”

=-=

Taglist: @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @cupcakes-and-pain, @wolfeyedwitch

[ssajemilyprentiss]

Loving you is a losing game

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x reader

Warnings: Angst, arguing, tears, mentions of death/dead body, mentions of throwing up, a curse word, no happy ending let me know if i forgot something

Summary: Emily has been acting off and no matter how many times you ask her she doesn’t tell you anything and just push you away. 

A/N: Set during the Lauren arc (majority of the things have already happened lol) just so you know where we are, this is in the storyline where Emily and Derek are where Tsia is found, but it’s Y/N instead of Derek. i just added the car ride before lol. Just for the sake of the plot here, the scene where Emily walks out of the BAU never happens, i replaced that one with what happens last in this lol

This was also requested for my 200 follower celebration from Iv @sweetprentiss​ this time “oooo and one more! emily x reader “please just tell the truth for once!” So since I kinda got free hands on this one I decided to use that fully, i hope you like this one too Iv and thank you for this request too <3 

☽ My masterlist here

☽ Want to request something from me? Take a look here

Emily had left once again out of nowhere, not saying where she was going. She just got out of your apartment and closed the door, not even saying goodbye. You look at the time, 10.26 pm and wonder if she’ll go to her place or come back. You send her a new text asing where she is and when she’s coming home. You barely get the chance to put it down before it vibrates, you pick it up and see a new text from Emily saying:

i’m out for a walk. sleeping at my place tonight, goodnight love you

You just stare at the screen and raise an eyebrow, a walk? Why couldn’t she just tell you that? You want to believe her but you get this gutting feeling in your stomach telling you she’s lying - and you know she is. You unlock your phone and reply:

okay, be safe. let me know when you’re home, love you too

You get ready for bed and as you lay down and try to sleep your mind starts racing, what is she really up to? Could she be seeing someone behind your back? You shake the thought away fast, she never would and you know that. As you close your eyes and try to sleep the feeling that something is really wrong is constant in the back of your mind. 

You wake up the next morning from a text from Penelope, you pick up your phone and read:

New updates on the case, come to Quantico ASAP!

You get out of bed and get ready as soon as you can, exit the apartment and enter your car. The drive to Quantico going a little faster than usual, but the tone of Penelope’s text made it sound urgent. You couldn’t wrap your head around this case, whole families were being murdered but the unsubs covered it up to make it look like accidents. And when Emily and Derek went to visit a potential victim they ended up in the middle of a shootout with them. You sigh as you pull up to the parking lot, the bad feeling in your stomach still not gone. 

You enter the bullpen and drop your bag on your desk and as you do Hotch walks up to you 

“Y/N DC metro has been held up, there’s been a double murder on K-street and 9. They want someone from us to take a look ” he says but before you can answer Emily comes up to you

“K-street and 9th?” she asks and Hotch nods

“I’m going with you” she tells you sternly and starts walking to the car 

“Okay” you reply even though she’s already left 

As you sit in the car you notice how tense Emily is, she keeps looking out the rearview mirror on her side and she seems distressed. 

“Emily how are you?” you ask 

“I’m good, why wouldn’t I be?” she replies

“Well for starters you look like you could jump out of your seat because how tense you are” and as your say that she straightens her posture, trying to look more relaxed but you see right through her

“And secondly your “walks” and other nightly adventures make me worried” you continue

“Why?” 

“Emily you have never as long as I have known you gone for a walk willingly, and at night also” 

“What can’t I pick up a new hobby?” she asks and you hear the annoyance lacing her tone

“That’s not what I’m saying-” you start 

“Good, then we’ll drop this” she interrupts you and looks out the window again and you get the feeling again, you just know she’s not telling the truth.

“I’m sorry” you say after a while

“I’m sorry too” she replies but keeps looking out the window

 “I love you”

But Emily stays quiet, didn’t she hear you? You feel how her silence breaks you, but you stay quiet too - still with that gutting feeling in your stomach, there is something she isn’t telling you. 

As you get to the scene you walk into the apartment and see a man dead in there, you notice Emily standing outside the door keeping her eyes on the woman that’s lying there. 

“He took two in the chest, went quickly” you say and walk out to her but she doesn’t reply

“One straight in her forehead” you say directed at the woman on the floor in front of you, and Emily keeps quiet 

“She comes to the door and he shoots her there, she didn’t stand a chance” you continue and you notice how Emily once again is tensing up, and she looks visibly shaken at the sight of the woman. Just as you’re about to ask her what’s wrong she speaks:

“I need some air” and she walks away quickly, leaving you behind 

You follow her and as you get out you see her by a fence, coughing and you see vomit on the ground by her shoes. 

“Emily, what's going on with you?” 

“I’m fine” she says 

“No you’re not” you blurt at her “You just threw up here, are you sick?” 

“No, let’s just go back to the BAU but swing by my place first so I can change” she says and walk away from you, you sigh deeply and walk after her 

When you pull up outside Emily’s apartment and you’re about unbuckle your seatbelt she stops you 

“Stay in the car, I’ll be quick” she says and get out before you get the chance to protest 

You sit back in your seat and once again let out a deep sigh, why couldn’t you come up with her to the apartment? You lay your head to the side and you feel how tiredness hits you, this case and the whole Emily situation is really tearing on you. You hear your phone going off, pick it up and see that it’s Hotch texting. 

Go home and rest for a couple of hours, you’ve done enough for the day. We’ll meet at Quantico again at 9pm when other leads have been checked

You reply with a quick ‘okay’ and just as you put your phone down Emily comes back to the car. 

“Hotch just texted” you say and show her your phone 

“Okay, can we go to your place? Mine is a mess” 

“Sure” you reply and drive off to your apartment. 

You wake in your bed at 8pm by your alarm, and notice that Emily isn’t next to you. You get out of bed quickly and look for her and just as you get out of your bedroom you see her by the front door. She looks like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar - you weren’t supposed to know she left. 

“Aren’t you coming back to Quantico?” you ask, crossing your arms

“I am” she replies turning away from you “I just need to run an errand first” she places her hand on the doorknob and is about to open the door but you stop her. 

“Emily I’m done with this” you blurt at her, louder than intended “that’s bullshit and we both know it” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say Y/N” 

“Emily please just tell me the truth for once!” you yell and grab her hand, stopping her from leaving once again

She pulls away and turns around “You want the truth?” she asks “The truth is that I don’t love you anymore Y/N”

Her words feels like a knife through your heart, and you feel tears burning in your eyes “You don’t mean that” you choke out 

She swallows thickly and it looks like she’s blinking away tears of her own “I do” she starts “I don’t love you anymore so we’re over, goodbye Y/N” and before you get a chance to reply she’s out the door and shuts it with a loud bang. And as the door slams you fall down to your knees, sobbing loudly.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @originalvampireslut​ / @ssa-sapphic​  / @sweetprentiss​ / @alexbllake​ / @emilyprsntiss /  @sapphic-stress​ / @sleep-deprived-athlete​ / @jemilyssecretlover​ /  @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos​ / @cmslvtt​ / @phatcrackdad​

[ushidoux]

What We Inherit  - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: Ushijima’s childhood has a greater effect on him than he lets on and you only just start to realize once you meet his parents. (~2.6k words)

Warnings: divorce discussion, angst with a soft ending, character study of a sort?, sfw

A/N: Ushijima needs more background so here’s me trying to grasp at straws for an understanding of his character.

---

Ushijima favors his mother, you realize suddenly.

Not favor in a preference sort of way - while you can tell he’s an attentive son (to the point that you are worried he is too much so, stiffer than usual and mildly anxious), you realize the reason why your gaze lingers a little too much on the details of her face and the way she walks when she rises out of her seat is because she is so much like him. Or rather, he is like her.

For some reason, this sudden recognition is groundbreaking.

After all, it’s odd to compare this small, unassuming woman to your boyfriend who frankly embodies strength, but the links of blood are there, and obviously so. You can see him in the same hazel eyes that seem to pierce through you, the smile that is soft and polite but restricted, and even the way she walks, back straight and shoulders squared in confidence but touched with a feminine grace.

When your eyes blink and reopen, he looks almost exactly like her.

“You took a long time to visit,” she admonishes him once he returns from storing away the fresh fruit he’d brought as gifts to sit beside you in the living room. Her tone is not exactly harsh but it’s not exactly teasing, and she doesn’t look at him while she speaks - she’s too focused on you. Before you can take the time to further dissect her sentence and decide if the tension you’re feeling in the air is imagined or not, she shifts gears.

“Is he good to you?” She asks you suddenly, her eyes that are his not leaving yours as she brings a cup of perfectly tepid tea to her lips.

It’s such a direct statement that you’re startled by it. It gets to the crux of your meeting without need for pleasantries; in fact, she hasn’t asked you anything past your name, and you wonder if it’s because she doesn’t care, if she plans to ask later or if Wakatoshi has told her all she needed to know about you. 

You immediately eke out a “Yes, of course,” however, because it’s true. He is good to you. He’s been nothing but good to you for the past couple of years, and even though you’ve only been dating officially for the past year, he’s promised you he will continue to be this way for as long as he lives. It’s almost irresponsible that he says something so definitively, but you trust him with all your heart.

She seems satisfied with this answer because she smiles and sets her teacup on the table with barely a sound. “I’m glad.”

Her smile is like his too, you take note. When you turn to glance at Wakatoshi, he too is smiling down at you, filled to the brim with pride and affection. 

---

The Ushijima family home had started off intimidating but had become warm, much like him, as time passed. That ease began with his mother relaxing out of a kneeling position into a seating position and finally asking you about yourself. 

It turns out Wakatoshi had spoken to her about you, although some of her details were incorrect, and for with every clarification you ended up making, you could see his ears grow pinker and pinker by the second.

His mother, of course, didn’t notice, her eyes growing wide and nodding intently as you gave her more and more details about your life as though she were hearing things for the first time. 

“I told you all these things, Mother,” he finally intercepted when he’d felt that the constant barrage of questions had started to overwhelm you, although it seemed he was the one being overwhelmed by the exchange between you two. 

You gave him a glance in surprise, as did she, and then she nodded, folding her hands together, the stiffness and extreme formality returning slightly to her demeanor. It made you a little upset, the way she seemed to retreat back into her shell, and you pouted ever so slightly at him.

Picking up on your pout, his mother finally teased, “Wakatoshi-kun’s always been serious like that, ever since he was a child.”

It was a bit ironic to see this very poised woman also call her son ‘serious’, but you smiled weakly in response, reaching over to hold his hand. 

There you noticed again that he was stiff even if his face was unreadable as always. For a split second, you wondered if there was a flash of resentment you saw in his features, but you decided that that too, you had imagined.

“I suppose I can show you some childhood photos. That’s what’s normally done at meetings like this, is that not so?” 

Without waiting for an answer, she rose and whisked out of the room, leaving you and Toshi to each other. 

Once she was out of earshot, you squeezed his hand tightly. 

“She’s very nice, Toshi, you should have brought me sooner,” you whispered with a soft playful pat on his shoulder. He didn’t offer much but a soft hmph in response, so instead you scanned the room, taking in the sparse decorations in the living room.

Most of the decor was traditional and minimalistic and separating from Wakatoshi, you gravitated towards a display case in the corner. As expected, trophies and ribbons from his matches were proudly shown here along with other trinkets and knick-knacks.

What surprised you was a picture slightly tucked away in the corner of Wakatoshi, much smaller, smiling and clearly as carefree as any well-affirmed child would be, resting comfortably on the shoulders of a then-young man with a matching grin. Next to them was his mother, also younger, her hair loose and flowing, unlike the semi-neat bun she wore today, and just as genuinely happy as they were. Her arms wrapped affectionately around the man you presumed to be Ushijima’s father, and her eyes were almost closed, squinting cheerfully in the bright sun.

They looked so happy, you remarked. Even if it was in the past, it was a nice memory to be brought to the forefront, not something to be stashed away.

Unconsciously you reached for it for a closer look, not realizing your boyfriend was behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I found the album,” His mother announced, peeling your attention away from the snapshot in time. You still had the picture in your hands when you quickly went back to sit, and jokingly, you pointed out:

“I think I found a good one already!”

His mother took one glance and for a split second, you could see her placid demeanor break, but then she let out a soft chuckle without further comment, instead opening the heavy photo album to gush about her perfect son.

---

The short-lived shaken expression on once-Mrs. Ushijima’s face haunted you longer than you expected, and you found that you were still thinking about it long after you had left the home and were back home with your lover.

“Toshi,” you finally ventured to ask, now under the cover of night as you lay in bed together just moments before sleeping. He moved ever so slightly, his heavy arm shifting from draped over your shoulder to over your midsection to make it easier for you to turn to face him, which you did promptly in the dark. “Did your mother ever consider getting remarried?”

“I don’t think so.”

You paused, carefully choosing your next words. You wanted to ask him if what you’re sensing, he’s sensed, this very small bit of remorse that you picked up. Maybe it was too much to assume, so instead you end up saying nothing. 

He picked up on your need to say more and interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your arm up so that he could press the back of your hand to his lips.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not upset about them, not at all. Besides, step-siblings might have made things complicated.”

What you wanted to ask was, does your mother regret it? 

---

A year and a half later, in sunny California, you’re seated side-by-side with your Toshi and before you is a smiling man who looks every bit as cheerful as the man who carried his son on his shoulders in that single image burned in your memory.

Again, you realize Ushijima favors his father.

Admittedly, not as much as his mother, but you still see him in the broadness of his hands, the animated and focused way in which he talks about work, in the way he listens intently to your every word, although his eyes aren’t as sharp as Ushijima and his mother’s - they’re soft, round and brown and they’re surrounded by the beginnings of crow’s feet. 

Ushijima is noticeably more relaxed around his father, you note, but the same bit of tension fills the warm air when Mr. Utsui asks you when the wedding is.

“We haven’t decided yet,” he cuts in, speaking for you now even though you had reached a steady pattern of conversation with his father. You’re a little bit annoyed at the curt way he interjects, but especially at the fact that he does this, when you’ve been not so subtly talking about marriage for a couple months now.

In fact, it’s when you shift from talking about your future together in grand terms (let’s buy a house, let’s have three kids, maybe a dog) and instead specifically bringing up when to be wed that you realize he cares more about his parents’ failed marriage then he lets on.

A ring didn’t stop them from separating, he insists. To you, it sounds initially like I don’t know if I want to marry you, but you know in the depth of your heart that he would choose you over himself any day. 

But the concept of marriage itself bothers him and while you sympathize with him, it’s hard for you to let go of the idea of a ring, a pretty white dress, and taking his name. 

It’s with that same premise that he’s visibly irritated by his father’s abrupt joke, and you and Mr. Utsui are both taken aback when you see the visibly irritated expression on his face, but his dad laughs loudly to defuse the situation.

“Jumping the gun there, aren’t I?” he says, reaching across the table to affectionately pat his son’s shoulder. “You just look so comfortable together! In fact, it reminds me of your mother and I back in the day.” 

The statement meant to palliate him makes the situation all the more precarious.

Really, it’s careless the way his father says it so easily, and you can see the comment has hit something deep inside your Toshi by the very slight tension you see in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow. It’s as though, in a single sentence, his father has both denied his childhood pains and plainly uttered a curse onto your relationship, and Wakatoshi won’t allow it.

“Please refrain from comparing us to the two of you in any way from now on.”

His words are controlled, precise and seething, and you wince reflexively. The sugary sweet, half-eaten stack of pancakes in front of you no longer seems appetizing, but you pick off a blueberry with your fork and eat it to give you something to do while your heart pounds.

What will his father say in his defense?

“You’re right,” Takashi says - he wants you to call him by his first name because you are important to his son - with an understanding nod, his eyes still kind despite the fact that his son’s look is almost menacing, even if he doesn’t intend to be.

“You’re not at all like us.”

---

In the quiet aftermath of the tense brunch date, you finally decided to give up on the idea of a wedding. 

You could argue that there was always therapy, but you weren’t sure to what extent the old wounds inflicted so early and so neatly tucked away could be healed with talk and introspection. No longer were they simply wounds but reminders of the following:

Marriages fail. Love doesn’t always last.

You inched a little closer to him as you walked together on the beach through the night, unsure if your increased need for closeness was related to the chill of the small breeze picking up from the waves or because you were starting to wonder if Ushijima’s father was wrong. 

What if you were the same? What if you did end up like them? Thousands of miles apart, with uncomfortable painful memories of each other and a son who repressed his resentment… There was no way to know, was there?

You stopped suddenly, your heels digging into the sand as you broke the pregnant silence between you two.

“Toshi,” you murmured softly. Still holding your hand, he turned to face you, his eyebrows just slightly raised as he watched you in the moonlight. 

“I won’t talk about marriage anymore. I get it now,” you finally decided, your voice wavering ever so slightly unlike your steadfast resolve.

He looked into your eyes, again trying to parse out what you were feeling from the slight knit in your eyebrows and the very slight tremor in your hands.

“It’s cold,” he replied simply, taking off his hoodie and putting it around you. “Here.”

You frowned as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, your hands curling into tight fists. If you were going to bend like this, he should at least acknowledge you!

“It’s still important to me, and I think we would be different, but I understand your feelings,” you insisted, staying in place.

He had to give you something, anything. It wasn’t selfish to ask for a little bit of credit, was it?

You saw him flash a small smile, then lean over to give you a kiss on the cheek. Before pulling back, he let out a small laugh, the first since hours earlier.

“You don’t want to get married anymore, sweetheart?” He teased, his arms rubbing up and down your shoulders, and your frown grew deeper. This was an odd time for one of his jokes.

“I’m being serious!” Your voice came out whinier than expected, to the point that you were almost embarrassed, but it only made his smile grow wider.

His hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, making sure that all you could see was him, speaking sincerely to you under the night sky.

“That’s too bad because I bought a ring.”

Your heart stopped.

But then it restarted, and instead of shivers, a new warmth seemed to run throughout your entire body with every new beat in your chest.

“W-what?”

“I want to marry you.”

I want to marry you. The words seemed to bounce around your now empty head, making a ruckus you couldn’t exactly think through.

“But you said…?”

“I don’t need a ring to prove that I’ll love you forever, but if it’s important to you, I’ll work hard and buy you a ring for every single year we are together.”

He must have picked up the habit of saying careless and deliberate statements from his father because you were now choked up with tears that you couldn’t wipe away because your hands were too busy resting on his that held your emotional visage.

“T-Toshi…”

“We’ll be different from my parents, ____,  I swear.”

You felt as though your heart would burst, so all you could do was nod. It didn’t help that his eyes seemed to shine far too much tonight as well. Was it just a trick of the moon or was he trying to convince himself too that he wouldn’t do you wrong?

“It’s true that I don’t have the ring on me, but I want to formally ask you today before I dare put a ring on your finger,

Will you marry me?”

Again you nodded, tears finally rolling down your cheeks in relief, because the answer had always been yes.

And you knew for sure, that the two of you would fight like hell to be happily married after.

[fireladybuckley]

It Isn’t in my Blood

Fandom: 9-1-1 Prompt:  Inspired by @kitkatpancakestack‘s “what if Buck finds the pamphlet“ post Pairing: Implied future Buddie - Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz Word Count: 2,330 Summary:    SPOILERS - A 5x01 missing scene - Buck finds the pamphlet on anxiety and panic attacks given to him by the cardiologist at the hospital and encourages Eddie to tell him what happened. Eddie breaks down and admits that maybe not everything is okay.

Beta’d by @firemedicdiaz​ Thank you babe <3

Read it on Ao3

             “I’ll just be a minute, you staying here?”  Eddie asked, hopping out of the truck and looking over at Buck.

              “Sure, sounds good,” Buck said, yawning.  Eddie nodded and closed the door, hurrying up the sidewalk as Buck settled back in his seat.  It had been such a long, chaotic shift and Buck was exhausted; Eddie just had to drop off a form at Christopher’s school and then they were going for breakfast.  Buck figured he had time for a short nap and shut his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.

              After a while it became apparent that Eddie was going to be longer than he’d said, and Buck was getting restless.  He grew bored quite easily of late, so he began poking around Eddie’s truck - changing the radio station, fiddling with the air freshener.  Absently, Buck hit the button on the dashboard that opened the glove box in front of him and looked down into it, wondering if there were any travel brochures left in there from a previous road trip that he could look at.   Instead, he pulled out a very different kind of pamphlet that looked like it had been shoved in carelessly and as he read the front, his eyebrows contracted with a small frown.

              Understanding Anxiety and Panic Attacks - Recognize the Signs and Symptoms

              Underneath the pamphlet were a couple of folded sheets of paper.  Upon quick inspection, Buck saw that they were discharge papers from the hospital dated a few days earlier with Eddie’s name in the patient field.

              Buck’s heart squeezed painfully as he stared at the slightly crumpled papers and then back at the pamphlet, realizing what it must all mean.  Buck had been startled earlier in the shift when that doctor had called out to Eddie, but Eddie had been very resistant to talking about his trip to the hospital.  Buck had dropped it for the time being as they had been chaotically busy the entire shift, but he had always intended to grill Eddie about it later.  Now, he suddenly understood what must have happened.  He knew from experience how scary panic attacks could be, how they could feel like a heart attack, especially if a person had never had one before.  

              He remembered how uncomfortable Eddie had looked when Buck had tried to confront him.  Buck knew how much Eddie relied on everyone thinking he was this stoic, unmoving rock, because it allowed him to hide his feelings and keep everything bottled up.  Buck was well aware that he himself and Bobby were the only two people that Eddie ever opened up to, and it made Buck’s heart hurt as he considered how shaken up Eddie must have been by the whole incident to be so resistant to telling him about it.

              Buck sighed, wishing he had known, thinking about how he could try to help Eddie as he skimmed the pamphlet.  He wanted to help, hating the idea that Eddie could be going through this alone.  He distinctly remembered how Eddie had tried to drag Buck out of his horrible depression and anxiety after the fire truck had crushed his leg and he wanted to be there for Eddie in turn.  Buck knew that Eddie had Ana, but if Buck was right about their relationship, he suspected that Eddie would be uncomfortable talking to her about his emotions.  He’d always had the feeling that while Eddie clearly liked Ana and they got along well, their relationship wasn’t particularly deep and Buck knew that Eddie had to really trust someone before he would open up.

              Lost in his thoughts, Buck was still looking at the pamphlet in one hand, the discharge papers held loosely in the other, when Eddie returned.

              “Alright, that’s all done, let’s go t-- Buck, what the hell?”

              Buck jumped as the driver’s door opened and Eddie swung himself inside, only to freeze when he saw what Buck was holding and reading through.  Buck started to stammer as Eddie snatched the papers and pamphlet out of his hands and threw them back into the glove box, snapping it shut and staring straight ahead, his chest rising and falling quickly, his jaw set.

              “Eddie, I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just found that in the glove box and I couldn’t help looking at it…”

              “It’s fine.  It’s nothing.”  Eddie’s voice was clipped, and Buck could tell he felt vulnerable and was not pleased about it.  

              “I mean, it’s not nothing,” Buck replied cautiously in a coaxing tone.  He hadn’t been planning on talking to Eddie about this before breakfast, but then there was no time like the present.    “Is this why you were in the hospital the other day?”

              Eddie shot him an annoyed look, because it was obvious that Buck had seen the discharge papers so the question was redundant, but then he sighed and nodded.

              “Yeah.  I’m fine though.”

              “Eddie… you’ve been through so much.  There’s no shame in having a panic attack--” Buck began, but Eddie started the truck and cut through his words sharply.

              “I don’t panic.”

              Buck frowned as Eddie pulled away from the curb and began to drive without saying another word.  Deciding to give him some space for a few so he could collect his thoughts, Buck stayed silent as they moved through the streets.   To his surprise, Eddie pulled up in front of Buck’s apartment building and parked, still looking straight ahead.

              “I… thought we were going for breakfast?”  Buck asked slowly, not sure what to expect.  Eddie seemed to steel himself, then glanced towards the building and shut off the truck.

              “I know you’re not going to let this go, and I don’t want to do it in public.  Let’s go up to your loft.”  

              Eddie’s voice was gruff, but Buck was grimly pleased that he wasn’t resisting.  Buck knew that Eddie knew Buck would not let this slide, would not let it rest until he was sure that Eddie was okay.  Taking his lead, Buck agreed and hopped out of the truck, following Eddie up to his building and then leading the way into his apartment.

              “Let’s get this over with,” Eddie said in a resigned voice as he moved into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Buck pulling himself up and sitting on the counter across from him.  “What do you want to know?”

              “What happened?” Buck asked simply.  “I know you went to the hospital, you were seen by a cardiologist, and now you have a pamphlet on panic attacks.  What actually happened?”

              Eddie gnawed the inside of his lip, still refusing to look at Buck as he mulled over what to say.  He was staring at the lower part of the counter in front of him, Buck’s shoe dangling in his line of sight, though he wasn’t seeing much.  All he could see in his mind was that damn suit store, the feeling of the tightness in his chest making him feel claustrophobic and deeply uncomfortable.

              “I don’t know.  We were trying on suits, and then I just… collapsed.  I thought I was having a heart attack,” Eddie summarized it as succinctly as he could, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough for Buck.

              “Okay, but what triggered that?” Buck asked, his voice gently prodding.  “Did something upset you, or…?”

              Eddie shifted uncomfortably, and Buck’s lips curled in a small, sad smile.  

              “Eddie, it’s just me.  You can talk to me.  You know you can trust me.  Please tell me what happened.”

              For a brief moment, Eddie lifted his eyes and met Buck’s gaze.  Buck’s expression was earnest, concerned, and Eddie knew he was right.  If there was anyone in this world he could trust, it was Buck.  Still, he hated talking about his emotions, especially ones he felt like he couldn’t control.  And yet, he felt like if he didn’t share it with someone he may explode because he was starting to seriously wonder what was going on in his brain.

              “I… you know I’m not good at this,” Eddie muttered, and Buck nodded.

              “I know, but… you were there for me when everything with my parents was going on.  You told me it was okay to feel what I was feeling, and to share it.  I want that for you, too,”  Buck told him gently, and Eddie sighed.  He felt like a hypocrite; he had told Buck those things, and he had meant it.  But for some reason when it came to himself, he had different rules.

              “The last time Chris and I wore suits was at Shannon’s funeral,” Eddie said, averting his gaze once more as he began to speak.  “I guess that was already putting me on edge.  I couldn’t stop thinking about her death and everything that had happened right before she died.  I just wanted to get out of there.”

              Eddie paused but Buck didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt.  Buck had a feeling that if Eddie stopped talking he wouldn’t start again so he waited patiently, keeping his mouth shut.

              “I think Chris was feeling it, too, but I was too distracted to notice.  And then… then the sales guy called Ana Chris’s mom.”

              Buck tilted his head to the side, looking over at Eddie, slightly confused.  Eddie and Ana had been together for nearly six months, it was only natural that at some point she would be mistaken for Chris’s mom.  But Eddie seemed shaken and Buck wasn’t sure he was going to continue.

              “What happened then?” Buck asked quietly, trying to gently prompt Eddie to speak again without spooking him.  Eddie had gotten a somewhat haunted look in his eyes and Buck could tell he was getting upset.  He was tempted to tell Eddie to stop, not wanting him to be distraught, but he sensed Eddie really needed to get it out there, so Buck would do everything he could to coax it out.

              “I- I genuinely don’t know,” Eddie said, shaking his head.  “Hearing that, it just… it intensified my thoughts about Shannon, and thinking of Ana as Chris’s mom is just - just so far beyond where we are in our relationship, and I- I…”

              Eddie was starting to get visibly upset and Buck slipped off the counter, moving over to stand beside him in case he needed support.

              “It made me realize that m-maybe I don’t want-- maybe things aren’t going so great, or something.  I don’t know.”

              “And then?” Buck prompted gently, feeling his heart break as Eddie glanced at him, clearly upset.

              “And then… I don’t know.  I don’t panic,” Eddie said stubbornly, though as he thought back to what had happened, he let out a long, unhappy sigh.  “But… I guess I panicked.  I don’t know.  I felt overwhelmed, and my chest got tight and I couldn’t breathe… I got really dizzy and fell over, I thought I was having a heart attack.”

              “Panic attacks can be really scary,” Buck told him, trying to reassure him.  “They can definitely feel like heart attacks.”

              “I don’t panic,” Eddie repeated, scowling at the floor.  “I never panic.  Not in the military, not when Shannon died, not when you nearly died several times…”

              “Eddie, you’ve been through a lot,” Buck reasoned, trying to brush off the last part of the sentence, as though it wasn’t a big deal to him that his near-death experiences were one of the things Eddie considered most upsetting.  “Do you think the shooting could be part of this?  Or is it just your relationship?”

              Eddie shifted uncomfortably again, not responding, and as Buck watched him, he saw tears start to pool in Eddie’s eyes, despite Eddie continually refusing to make eye contact.  

              “Are you okay?” Buck asked quietly, reaching out and touching him, gripping Eddie’s forearm lightly in a gesture of support.   This one little touch seemed to have caused him to come undone, however, and Buck saw his expression contort, his lips pressed together tightly as he tried and failed to stop himself crying.

              “No,” Eddie finally blurted out, seemingly completely against his will.  “No, I’m not okay.”

              Buck’s heart broke and he immediately reached out to embrace Eddie, giving him a chance to pull away if he wanted.  When he didn’t, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him as Eddie choked into his shoulder, trying desperately to stop himself from outright sobbing.  It was rare that Buck had seen Eddie cry - he hadn’t seen it since Shannon’s death - and Buck wished he could take Eddie’s pain away, wished he could make the world right for him again.  

              After a few moments Eddie squirmed in his arms and Buck got the message that he was uncomfortable so he pulled away, but he didn’t go far.  Eddie seemed determined to not meet his gaze, furiously wiping at his eyes, and Buck gently rubbed his back, sensing that he really wanted comfort but was trying to stop himself from allowing it.  They stood like that for a while, until Eddie’s attempts at stopping his tears dissolved and he took a shaky breath, letting them slip down his cheeks as he pulled himself together.

              “It’s okay to not be okay sometimes.  You’re going to get through this,” Buck told him, his hand stilling in the middle of Eddie’s back.  “And I’m gonna help you get through it, if that’s what you want.”

              Eddie swallowed, sniffing, as he listened to Buck speak.  He’d always gone through things alone.  He’d always thought that was the best way to do it.  But in that moment, standing there, knowing he had Buck’s full love and support behind him, Eddie started to wonder if maybe having Buck at his side would be a much better option than going it alone.   Eddie nodded slowly, glancing at Buck for a moment before looking away, nodding again.

              “Yeah,” Eddie took a shaky breath and looked over at Buck, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope in his heart.  “That’s what I want.”

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