#man these tags probably look like a rant from a distance when really it's just me not being able to shut up ever. but it's my blog and my

[quitedisastrous]

neopronouns are starting to look mad appealing. i get it now

[mcbitchtits]

and now it’s time for silly songs with larry minnesota cuke, the part of your dash where i keep talking about indiana jones, forever.

current state of the view count:

here be spoilers. i might say i’d stop tagging after we cross the month threshold but tbh the way i keep writing novel-length nonsense it will probably just stay under a cut regardless

i know we got the wilhelm and the milennium falcon/plane engine noise (can’t remember where, on the latter) but i avidly watched the credits last time and ben burtt was not involved in this one. dunno how much of this is lucasfilm restructuring under disney or them handing it over to a mostly fully new team (like new costumers being mostly disconnected from the old ones), but it’s a little sad to see. it’s not like he’s retired. (I mean, maybe he was overbooked or didn’t want to work on it, but still!) (i may be the singular person out here regularly making raiders foley art jokes around the internet, so, you know, forgive me on my frustration with this point.)

what do you think happened to that poor italian pilot after everything? are they long-distance friends now, a la sallah or presumably renaldo, etc? (which, by the way, I can’t remember if I ever speculated about it on here, but I was hoping we’d meet up with one of Young Indy’s FFL friends in Morocco. I was clearly wrong about that.) or do you just go back to your italian pilot life trying not to think about how you went 2200 years into the past? i mean, shit gets weird with pilots. so it’s not like he’d be an odd man out just ranting paranoically about watching out for dangerous cloud formations at altitude. (and when i say “shit gets weird with pilots”, i also mean, like, it’s a personality thing. SO.) (i mean...)

been trying to pay more attention to the score on subsequent viewings because it hits so differently for me. I think, other than Helena’s Theme, that it just uses older cues a lot more? which, arguaby, it’s not like the past sequels haven’t done that, but much like my script complaints it feels like it’s Oops! All References. which I did notice— pretty sure when the bomb drops in the intro, it’s the ants swarming cue from Crystal Skull. (which is kind of an interesting comparison, musically, thematically!)

on the flip side, I was dinking around with Helena’s Theme on the keyboard— I’m fairly but not 100% certain it’s just the Raiders March notes rearranged. which is sweet, and I like that it went someplace different musically, but also it’s interesting to note how that’s such a musical diversion from John Williams’ other work. Star Wars intertwines themes a lot, but so has Indiana Jones; notably with Mutt’s theme in Crystal Skull but iirc also with Henry Sr in Last Crusade? now i’m second guessing myself. ANYWAY. Williams does it a lot, frequently in little ways that are just a bar or two or four, so it’s notable to me that Helena’s doesn’t.

which is fine; it’s a good theme. on the other hand, I feel like that reinforces again my structural complaints with Dial of Destiny, in that things just seem tacked on together in a pile and don’t really mesh; and moreover, that we frequently are given Helena’s Theme when we want to hear the Raiders March. intertwining them as countermelodies or harmonized or whatever would have given us both. and 1) it’s interesting that they chose only to give us Helena and not Indy, musically, and 2) this echoes the structure of not actually actively resolving (or, uh, even really addressing forthrightly) their character arcs/conflict!

on my last viewing i went to see it in this theater that used to be an indie/art theater and got bankrupted by covid and resold, and it was very nice internally but i spent the whole movie wondering what the fuck kind of weird vignetting was going on with the film/lenses. finally made it to the underwater scenes and it was just dark as shit, so I suspect, looking back, it was just that the projector had bulb issues, which is frustrating on its own but even moreso as a purportedly indie/art theater. (also i got a trailer for that theater camp movie this time, which is a hilarious pre-roll choice? lol)

i cannot stop thinking about the whole Science But Also We’re Going To Nod Vaguely To Athena And Put Moons On Shit design premise. i get the moons if you’re trying to make everyone remember that the dial is a celestial body calendar calculator (which it was!) but WHY JUST THE MOON. WHY EVEN BOTHER PUTTING ATHENA IN THERE. if it’s SCIENCE then put THE MOON AND THE STARS AND THE PLANETS. if it’s MYTHOLOGY then PUT IN ARTEMIS AND APOLLO/ETC. AND IF IT’S ABOUT TIME THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME KRONOS AND THE TITANS GOD DAMNIT

/rant

anyway. lazy production design (and/or writing/plot choice if it was them) in my opinion.

BUT NO WHAT’S THIS IT’S MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE GRAPHIKOS

I think they melted it... digitally? The fire looks digital, and the melted wax looks digital, and there’s a notable texture difference from the shot of the disc in the melted wax vs. the subsequent shot of Indy pulling the disc out. So I’m very curious to know if it was actually digital or practical. Generally, yes, safer for fire. My preference obviously as a Raiders/etc fan specifically is that it should have been practical to the extent they could have. And of course we can argue maybe the shot difference is just waiting for the wax to cool enough to pick it out the disc safely, but, eh. idk. it didn’t feel tactile, you know? That’s part of what these movies are about.

(I mean, likely, lighting some 151 or whatever on a Wide Candle would probably not burn sufficiently long to melt it? But COME ON, THE POWER OF EDITING, I BELIEVE IN YOU) (also perhaps i will try lighting one of my junk candles on fire later with the power of rum. just for experimental purposes. SCIENCE, YAKNOW)

side note, historically, i want to say a wax tablet like that would have had a wood frame? also, i don’t know what kind of wax they would have made it out of. i could easily go research this, so i guess that’s going on my list next.

So the big thing I keep chewing on is the contrast-not-contrast of Voller and Indy, and what the fuck the plot was actually trying to say. (and, frankly, as I have mentioned, I keep coming up with ????? because I think they didn’t have a good thesis and thus the structure floundered and the point is kind of lost, aside from the broad strokes of what we already “know” about Indy, both the person and the character.) Voller’s Mediterranean look is interesting to be because it seems like a pallette-swap of Indy. Light toned fedora, light toned jacket, slacks and a shoulder bag, all still in natural, earth tones, but not dark browns. To me this is a more interesting contrast than is happening almost anywhere else, because it’s reminiscent of Belloq’s pallette (usually whites and creams, both with pith helmet and later a fedora) and also Panama Hat’s (love those serial flick names). Belloq and Indy are explicitly very close to the same, “rational” archaeologists in pursuit of some academic fame or notoriety, and also a little bit in the realms of questionable ethics. (Until it turns out, of course, that Belloq would sell his soul to the Nazis, and Indy wouldn’t, though let’s not get into the depths of that examination here.) Voller also consistently sees Indy as a comrade-in-arms, the rational scientists whose pure pursuit of truth (and their own goals) is above all else.

And, of course, in the end, we see how that plays out more explicitly, Voller in the plane says “I can’t stay here,” while moments later Indy begs to be allowed to; “let me stay.”

Of course Indy would never be a Nazi so it’s necessary both structurally (and, uh, because otherwise this would be a literal disaster of a movie) for them to be counterpoints. But while this holds in the production design and the general basic structure, again, I think they really lost the plot in the nuances.

Indy is a man of science. Even all the while he’s come to appreciate (in past adventures) the existence of some mysticism. This movie, so much thematically, is about Science (Archimedes and the antikythera) and Indy being a scientist and also Voller being a scientist. It’s also as much about belief; Indy in Science AND ALSO His Marriage, and Voller in Science. But, structurally, it keeps trying to pit Science against everything else; this in part is why the “dial” is the least interesting macguffin we’ve seen so far— it’s not really resonant to the story. (Mostly this failure belongs, as I’ve said, to the lack of character arc that should be underlying everything.)

Indy insists on being a scientist, despite the fact that he’s also willing to write off everything he’s seen as “how hard you believe in it”. Is that not worth examining, as a central thesis of the series?! Why does it get such a cop-out line?! (Again, because I think they didn’t know what they wanted to say, so they waffled on everything, and instead you get a hemming and hawing script without resolution.)

As a scientist, at the very least, I think he would be more intrigued by everything that has happened to him. Scientists love when things yield unexpected results, because that’s something new to explore.

Which, in that same vein, I can’t buy that he wouldn’t think the moon landing or space exploration was interesting. I can’t buy that he’d feel “replaced”— obviously, this is very much an angle on heroism and culture that is used by nazis and other cultural supremacists— but Indy is a guy who wants to learn, to teach, to engage with the world, to go on adventures. (If he’s jealous, show us that?)

And again, again, again, one can certainly argue that this is all specifically not him, not himself, because of the depression of losing Mutt and his marriage; that’s fine, but I think the script does a shit job of establishing that or doing anything with it.

And if Indy feels “replaced” (which, again, this thing they kept telling us in the promo material I don’t think was borne out well in the actual text!), and he’s longing for some lost era of himself (except, again, that he pushes everyone away and continues to claim “this isn’t an adventure”), what the fuck is the actual text of the movie structurally trying to say by bringing him “back” at the end? If he’s not actually a relic of the past (uh, literally and figuratively), and we still need heroes of his type today, why do we not spend more time and finesse with that character arc??????? You cannot posit this as your central thesis and then nearly forget about it until the last five minutes. I mean, you can, I guess. They maybe did. And it sucks all the more for it.

If Voller’s obsession with science is what gets him stuck as a literal and figural relic, and Indy gets to look to the future to continue to be a hero and be needed in the world around him, why do we spend so much time valorizing the antikythera as a scientific object instead of a more mystic one, if Indy needs Belief and Awe and The Power of Friendship and The Power of Punching Nazis and so do we?! Again, and I know I’ve said this a billion times already, but WHY DO HELENA AND INDY NEVER HAVE THAT MOMENT OF RESOLUTION??? Helena needs to realize it too! Indy needs to stop being so cynical and see what he already knows!

I just. urgh. like I said. it’s hard to write about with clarity because I think they lost it themselves. And, more objectively, the script is narratively fighting itself on these themes in part because “making the antikythera scientific and not very mystic” is a reaction to Crystal Skull more than it is a reflection on the rest of the series or letting it stand on its own merits. And, again, I think that not only creates a story that is at odds with itself constantly and messy as a result, but it also does no service to Raiders as a story nor the other entries in the series, nor to Indiana Jones as a concept or a franchise. (And, most notably, it makes a bad “finale” entry!)

I’ll probably have more to say on this later, and, you know, eternally, because every time I sit down to write out what I’m trying to say I end up saying something completely else so I’m just over here piling up disjointed comments on top of disjointed comments.

[gisachi]

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

.

.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

.

.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

.

.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he���ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

.

.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

.

.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry,  and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

.

.

.

[moonlit-han]

bad squirrel ↠ han jisung

genre: bad boy!jisung au, enemies to lovers au, high school au; humor word count: 2.8k warnings: so fluffy, swearing, mildly suggestive  |  gender-neutral reader request: yes (thank you for such a clearly imagined and fun request, anon!)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You’d never understood why Han Jisung had to be so loud.

Wasn’t the “bad boy” of the school supposed to be the quiet, brooding type? Not that Jisung didn’t do his fair share of lurking in corners doing gods knew what, sneaking out of the school to mysteriously reappear hours later, and drinking from a flask in the middle of class…. But he was just so damn loud. All the time! And because Jisung was loud in class, you strongly disliked him. Sure, he did his work (sometimes, like when the sun rose in the west) and had friends—two, to be exact: Chan and Changbin—but other than that, he kept to himself, yet was somehow loud. Jisung also strutted around the school like he owned it, looking much like a disgruntled raven.

As you were in the same year, you were intimately familiar with all his less-than wonderful propensities, and had listened to more gossip about him than you’d care to admit. Granted, that was simply to hear anything about him. You had a strange fascination with Jisung that somehow existed in tandem with your dislike—you couldn’t understand it. And, you commonly thought about him at the most random times; this also meant that you ranted to your best friend, Seungmin, far too often.

Jisung sat in the corner of the cafeteria with Chan and Changbin, and scribbled. He was always scribbling in a notebook he kept in his back pocket, and you wanted to know what he was writing—probably something like emo poetry. And today was no different. Occasionally, he’d look up and stare into the middle distance.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside his head?” you asked as you chewed a mouthful of your lunch. Seungmin saw where your gaze rested and rolled his eyes.

“No. Definitely not.”

“But would it be cool to—”

“Again, no,” Seungmin interrupted before you could careen off onto one of your tangents about the merits of this person or that. Except, this person featured all too commonly in those tangents, and Seungmin was tired of hearing it. “I don’t want to hear about the exact wave pattern in Han Jisung’s hair or how long you think he’d had that leather jacket. And I definitely don’t want to hear your thoughts on his skinny jeans.”

You smirked, turning back to the table in front of you on which you’d neatly arranged your lunch: grapes, almonds, a container of rice, and a mix of vegetables and fish. You hadn’t necessarily been planning to rant about Jisung, but now that Seungmin mentioned it…

“What do you think he does when he’s not in school?” you mused, chasing a bit of cabbage around the bottom of your lunch container with your chopsticks. “I mean, he seems to just exist in his own little world—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone except Minho and Chan, and even then, not that often.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Seungmin yawned, resting his chin on his hand. “Probably goes off to some corner and broods. That’s what guys like him do: brood and very obviously not talk about how emotionally distraught they are or whatever. But in a Byronic way—I don’t think Jisung has a violent bone in his body.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at your best friend, who was steadily losing patience with the whole conversation. “I can think of one bone that might be quite . . . angry and maybe violent but probably just hard. Good with forceful th—”

“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HAN JISUNG’S DICK, Y/N!” Seungmgin burst out, drawing stares from the other students seated at neighboring tables, including Jisung himself. You made to bang your head on the table, more embarrassed than you’d been in a long time.

Seungmin, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “Y-Y/N, oh my god, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me!” This was because you had started playfully but insistently punching his thigh. “It’s fine,” Seungmin continued, trying to reassure you. “It’s not like I said anything that would— Oh shit, he’s coming over here.”

You tried to slide under the table, but only succeeded in getting yourself stuck before shimmying back into your seat. You looked up just in time to see Jisung slide into the seat opposite you and lean meaningfully on the table.

“So, Y/N,” he drawled, flashing a feline grin at you. “What exactly did I just hear?”

“I didn’t say anything, Han,” you retorted, nose aloofly in the air.

Jisung sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe you didn’t say anything, but Seungmin definitely did.” Seungmin spluttered and shook his head violently, really not wanting to be drawn into your squabble.

“So?” you said casually, still picking at your lunch. Meanwhile, your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “So what if he said something?”

“Why would Seungmin say anything about me, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not like you two like me or anything.”

You just stared at Jisung. Why did he sound petulant? “No, we don’t. You didn’t hear anything, so go away!”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Jisung wheedled. “I know you’re curious….”

“Han, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung protested, leaning back as his hands waved wildly.

“I—” you began, and gulped. “It’s just… You’re just this moody guy who walks around like he owns the place. And you wear tight skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. How could I not assume you at least think you have . . . um, yeah.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seungmin moaned, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Jisung had leaned forward now and was staring at you intently. You looked away, even more embarrassed than before, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not quite sure what to say, besides the fact that I like my tight pants.” He paused, then chuckled lightly and winked. “And that you clearly like my tight pants, too.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and blurted. “Why are you even talking to us, Han?”

Jisung stopped as he rose from the table. “I was intrigued. Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Han winked, then turned and walked back to Chan and Changbin.

You just watched him go—casually appreciating the view—completely stunned. Had Han Jisung just said you were cute? Ugh?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Seungmin was shaking your shoulder. “Y/N, you might start drooling if you don’t watch out.”

Coming back to yourself, you hurriedly shut your mouth and demanded, “Did he just say I was cute?”

“How am I supposed to know? I had my fingers in my ears!” Seungmin exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Well, you are no help whatsoever,” you grumbled, and went back to eating your food.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, then said, “Do- Do you like him?”

You almost choked on your rice. “What?”

“Do you like him?” he repeated.

“The last time I checked, I definitely didn’t like Han Jisung. He annoys the hell out of me!”

Like the traitor he was, your best friend just made a ruminative noise and smiled down at his food.

↠↞

There was a park along the route you walked to and from school every day, and you liked to cut through to its other side as a short cut and to have some time in nature. Today, the leaves rustled loudly under your feet as you wove between the trees, distracting you sufficiently that you were completely wrapped up in your thoughts until your eye caught on a spot of black.

You stopped and squinted, brows furrowed ever so slightly. You couldn’t be sure, but that looked to be Han Jisung squatting under an oak at the edge of the park. Thinking the last thing you wanted was Jisung to see you spying—no, simply watching as you, too, strolled through the park—on him, you ducked behind a tree.

A few feet away from Jisung, assuming it was him, a squirrel sat on its haunches. It looked like he was talking to the squirrel, holding out his hand with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in its center. As you watched, the squirrel, clearly used to this sort of thing, scurried forward and then away, its prize of seeds securely held in its mouth. This happened several times: the squirrel snatching a few seeds, stashing them around the other side of the tree, then coming back to retrieve more from Jisung’s hand. Strangest of all, you could have sworn you heard cooing along the lines of, “Aren’t you so good? Yes, you’re such a good little squirrel. Ooooh mhmm that tastes good, doesn’t it!”

Seeing the boy stand, you pulled your torso back behind the tree and peeked out as he walked away with a spring in his step. Yes, that was definitely Jisung.

Lost in your thoughts, you began to walk home. Feeding squirrels and talking to them was not “bad boy” behavior—of that much you were certain. So, did this mean that Jisung wasn’t as bad as you’d thought? Or was he slowly killing the squirrel by lacing the seeds with poison?

You shook your head, scolding yourself for such thoughts. But the fact remained: Han Jisung fed the squirrels and acted distinctly cute around them, and seemed to drop the persona he cultivated at school.

In a nutshell: you were confused.

The next day, you walked home the same way and at the same time, hoping you’d catch Jisung with the squirrel again. As you neared the edge of the park, sure enough, there was Jisung. You wrestled with your conscience for a moment, then walked the last meters to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, shooting to his feet and almost hitting you in the nose with the back of his head. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I was walking home,” you said innocently, giving Jisung a bright smile.

The young man in front of you was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Did you see—“

“Did I see you talking to a squirrel?” You grinned now, crossing your arms. “Yes. Yes, I did, Han.” Jisung spluttered. “Not so bad a boy, are you?”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!” he begged. “Just because I wear all black, brood, and write emo poetry—“

“Hah! So you do write it!”

Jisung gave you a look. “Yes, I write poetry and song lyrics for my friends. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirped.

“Can you-“ Jisung sighed. “Can you at least not tell anyone that I feed and talk to the squirrels? It’s, like, my own way of doing good, you know?”

“Sure, I won’t tell anybody. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, the more you know…” Jisung said and, yet again, winked at you before striding away. You admired the stark contrast between his black clothes and the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaves on the ground.

↠↞

A couple of weeks later at the end of October, your English class was lucky enough to go on a weekend camping trip to experience the misty atmosphere in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Part of you thought that your teacher was a bit odd for wanting them all to get spooked by mist, but you couldn’t argue with the fact that the foliage was beautiful. After a long day of traipsing through the forest to find the perfect lookout point for the next morning’s mist viewing, the class gathered around a fire to eat and talk.

The fire was warm in front of you where you sat on a conveniently placed log; if you'd been any closer, you would have definitely singed something. You'd been a bit stupid and hadn't brought a proper jacket, thinking the evenings would still be warm at the end of October, but oh how wrong you were. Your nose was cold and your hands were even colder, a fact you tried to hide by sitting on your hands. Soon, however, your shoulders and back felt the slight breeze the rustled the leaves surrounding the clearing.

Across the fire, Jisung tracked your every move with bright eyes. In truth, he’d been watching you all evening and noticed that you were now cold. He noticed a lot about you these days, really. You didn’t see him quietly staring, his black clothes turning him nearly invisible, but you knew he was there on the other side of the flames.

You jumped a little, shoulders shrugging as warmth settled around them, and looked around. On the log next to you sat Jisung, like the piece of the night sky come to earth.

“Better?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah.”

The two of you sat there silently as your classmates gossiped and ate around you. Occasionally, you saw someone glance your way, then turn back to their friends as if Jisung’s stare repelled them. You’d expected to feel awkward around him, expected to feel some dark aura radiating off him, but it was easy to sit with Jisung. His leather jacket was wonderfully warm, it’s weight around your shoulders oddly comforting, and the faint smell of whatever soap Jisung used caught on the collar made you smile.

“Here,” Jisung said softly, holding out the flask that always hung at his hip. “Have a sip—it’ll warm you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m not going to drink, especially since we’re on a school trip,” you hissed.

“It’s just tea, Y/N,” Jisung said, tone affronted. “What did you think I had in here?”

“I- Tea is fine. Thanks.” You took the proffered flask and sipped what was perfectly brewed and sweetened black tea. The hot liquid sliding down your throat to your stomach was a delicious feeling. You returned the flask to Jisung, your fingers brushing as you did so.

The fire crackled, sparks flying up as sticks fell and broke apart. But these were not the only sparks that were flying around that fire. Between you and Jisung there seemed to be a thread of energy along which those other sparks danced, and, unexpectedly, you wanted to follow that thread to its end with the young man beside you.

Every now and then, you glanced at Jisung. And, every now and then, he glanced at you. After five tense minutes of this madness, you finally glanced at each other at the same time and smiled nervously.

“So,” Jisung began, “um…”

“Hmm?”

“May I say something?”

“I- Yeah, sure.”

Jisung took a deep breath, hands twisting in his lap. “Y/N, I have what’s got to be the biggest crush ever on you. And if you don’t return the feelings, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll make sure to leave you alone or whatever you want,” he said in a rush.

You wrapped Jisung’s jacket closer around yourself and turned slightly on the log to face him. The firelight danced in his eyes, the look in them soft and searching. His lips were parted slightly, as if to say something.

“It’s okay, Jisung,” you murmured, realizing that this was the first time you’d called him ‘Jisung’, at least to his face. “I think— I think I like you, too.”

Jisung’s face lit like the sun that would rise hours later with the dawn, his smile glorious. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Mhmm, I do.”

“That’s great,” Jisung breathed, and made to shift closer to you but stopped himself. “Um, so what now?”

“Want to cuddle?” You hardly believed that you’d just said that, but with Jisung’s jacket around you and him sitting so close, you couldn’t help it.

Jisung laughed and held out his arms to you, and you scooted closer to him so that you leaned against his as his arms went around you. After a couple minutes of shifting positions, the two of you settled. You could practically feel Jisung smiling behind you as you rested your head against his shoulder. Like your own, his heartbeat was faster than usual from nerves and excitement, which made you feel quite proud. You’d actually made the cool, seemingly confident bad boy of the school nervous.

Thinking you’d mess with him a little, you turned your face up to his and kissed his jaw. Jisung nearly jumped, which would have deposited both of you squarely on the cold ground, and then looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“Won’t know until we try, right?” you replied.

Jisung needed no further prompting and brought his lips to yours, sending a current of warmth along that thread between you. You had to smile because, completely unexpectedly, you liked kissing Jisung. You liked it a lot and would be perfectly happy to continue kissing him all night long, if given the chance.

Drawing back from Jisung, you noticed your classmates staring at you and Jisung, and smirked back at them. Unlike you, they didn’t have a cute boy to kiss and cuddle with. They weren’t the chosen person for the Han Jisung.

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: talks of spencers major anxiety, parental death tw (not Diana or bob and Linda), trauma talks, computer hacking and new members joining the family...

word count: 4k

from the beginning <3

Taylors biggest surprise that weekend was what she had planned for Amoreena that night.

She set up a fort in the theatre room, they had every snack imaginable and any movie of her choice to watch. Karaoke in the corner, popcorn being popped in a theatre-style machine, and 3 different, matching child and adult, princess dresses for them to choose from.

It was all an elaborate plan to keep her preoccupied until bedtime, which Taylor offered to handle so that her parents could have a little wedding night date alone.

They’re all ready for a wonderful night when Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Spencer answers, sneaking away from the girls so he could hear better.

“Spencer, I am so sorry to interrupt you this late, but we have a situation… it’s not something that should be discussed over the phone. Do you have someone to watch Amoreena while you and Y/N come into the bureau? As soon as you can?”

His stomach drops, he feels instantly sick. “Not until you tell me who’s dead, who’s dying or who’s trying to kill us.”

“No one is, Spencer, it’s not a case or criminal related, it’s… personal, someone is here to see you,” she sounds serious and Spencer is still just as worried.

“I’ll tell the girls,” he responds before hanging up.

Y/N is standing right behind him, listening with wide eyes as she waits to soothe his panic. They worked like a well-oiled machine, she could physically feel his anxiety and in return, something about her just being there made him physically feel better.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asks as she appears behind Y/N, Amoreena now off changing into one of the dresses she picked.

“They won't tell me on the phone but they need me and Y/N back at Quantico as soon as possible,” Spencer explained with a pale face, “we can go in the morning.”

“I’m fine watching Amoreena for the night, there’s a hanger down the road with a few of my dad’s planes, I can have someone take you to Virginia within the next hour? It's only 7 pm, I’m sure you can be back before bedtime?” Taylor offered her services for the 100th time that day, “It’s not a problem, really, and they wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious, they’re the FBI after all.”

With that, they said goodbye to Amoreena and told her they’d be back before she woke up in the morning. If not, she had Y/N’s cellphone for the night to call them before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up, so she won't bother Taylor that early. (Even though Taylor said she wouldn’t mind early morning Amoreena cuddles.)

He was anxious on the drive to the small airport, the old man named Norman, chartering them that night was incredibly kind, they were granted lading access in Quantico and before he could prepare, they were up in the air. He chatted up a storm with Y/N on the headset radio as Spencer overthought the upcoming chat with JJ and stared out at the world below them.

On queue, he jumped from anxious to scared when they land, before getting in the shuttle from the airstrip to the front entrance, but he’s so incredibly terrified when it comes time to actually start the walk to the bullpen.

“Will you come in with me?” His small voice asks as she is pinning a visitors tag on her shirt.

“Of course,” she smiled, taking his hand as they walked into the elevator together.

He grips her hand tighter as the elevator stops, dipping and returning to the right height and making his stomach drop the same way a rollercoaster would. He hated that feeling more than anything, having it alongside the anxiety wasn’t helpful.

He can see JJ and another girl sitting together at his old desk. She’s smiling at whatever JJ says, she looks exactly like Amoreena just with box-dyed black hair that shines purple under the lighting. She’s in all black, she pushes her glasses up her nose with her sweater hiding her hands, Spencer knows she’s a foster kid from just her posture.

“JJ,” Spencer makes their presence clear and the little girl turns to him with a huge smile, running to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hi?”

She’s sobbing ten and he doesn’t know why or even who she is, he lightly holds her with complete shock on his face. He stares at JJ with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he communicates the confusion and terror with his eyes.

“This is Josephine Elliot, or Jo as she likes to be called, her parents passed away a few months ago and she recently found out her biological father was actually a sperm donor and not her moms husband,” JJ explains a little before sighing and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“She hacked into the sperm bank and found your name, and google led her to the FBI and they stopped her at the second gate, the first only let her in thinking she was your other daughter, Amoreena.”

“I’m so sorry,” the poor girl wipes her tears with her sweater sleeves, “I don’t know why I hugged you when you don’t even know me, ew sorry.”

Spencer pulls her back into a hug, “it’s okay, you don’t have to worry about wanting a hug ever again. You can have whatever you need from me.”

She cries more, holding on to his shirt as he holds her, shushing her softly and rubbing his hand over her back. It’s weird how safe she seems this early in their acquaintance with one another, but he understands it. She’s so desperate for someone related to her to love her again, to replace what she was missing from her parents, that she’s already accepted him as a father without thinking it through. Without even know what he would be like to her.

When she finally calmed down enough, Spencer led her towards the briefing room so they could have a moment alone to talk. He wanted to know her, and she needed to know him before she made another big decision. He let her know who he was, what he used to do and the rundown on his relationship with Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you met her at the park and got married a week later because you both have dead exes and somehow through fate, you made a kid together?” She summed it up in a way that made it sound ridiculous.

“Mutual trauma is a great bonding tool, I’m sure you probably listen to rock music or anything sad and angry because you know someone feels the exact same way you do? I was like that when I was a teenager. We've both lost someone we loved and then made Amoreena out of pure luck,” he combated her snarky summary with his own profile of her.

“I actually like Taylor Swift, Paramore, Evanescence and Olivia Rodrigo when I need to scream about being sad, thank you very much,” she teased him, finding a very easy rhythm as they got to know one another.

“You’re going to lose your mind when you find out who’s with Amoreena right now,” Spencer smiles, somehow everything just fits together.

“What?” She looks so confused, scrunching her face the same way he did to push her glasses up without her hands.

“It’s a long story, but essentially we were at Taylor Swift’s house when JJ called, she’s watching Amoreena still,” Spencer explained, watching her jaw drop.

“Who the fuck are you, dude?” She whispered, and it took Spencer by surprise. “Sorry, I’m so used to swearing in front of adults lately to get my point across. But seriously, you’re so interesting…”

“Understandable,” Spencer laughs lightly at her strange compliment. “I have a lot of connections, and I’ll do anything to see the people I love, smile, that includes you now.”

“You barely know me and you’re just ready to accept that I’m your kid? Didn’t this just happen to you last week?” She laughs at the insanity of it all, “you’re going to have a million kids at this rate, dude.”

Again, she calls him dude and he knows she’s just trying to distance her emotions as they grow fonder and fonder. A coping mechanism so that she doesn’t get hurt anymore, she’s lost too much and she’s not going to love him just to lose him too.

“My dad ran out on me when I was a kid, I basically raised myself when my mom’s schizophrenia got bad, I know what it’s like to feel alone even when you’re with people who are supposed to love you,” he makes sure she knows who he is inside.

“I’m sorry,” she reaches a hand out for him, holding it softly. “I never really liked my dad growing up, he always felt off… I can’t explain it, but he was never the same guy twice he was either angry, miserable or scarily happy," she explains him and all Spencer can think is how he sounds like an unsub.

"I do miss my mom a lot, I didn’t know what else to do when I found out they couldn’t have babies together and she went to a Sperm bank without telling him. I know the names of your other kids too, besides Amoreena, I’m really surprised you found her mom without hacking the system too but, yeah, Dylan is 6 and Alice is 10, they’re both in DC with the same 2 mom’s, so if you didn’t want me, I was going to see if they would cause I’m technically their stepdaughter in a weird way and if I spent one more day in that foster home I would have ended it all,” it's a Reid rant, she's his for sure.

It takes him a minute to absorb it all, “wait, Amoreena is mine for sure?”

She nods like it’s a stupid question, “could you not tell my just looking at her? The 3 of us have the same face.”

“No, they wouldn’t tell us at the clinic,” Spencer is still in shock but more so that she got into the database so easily, “how did you do it?”

“It was easy, I had all the information about the sample my mom used so I just encrypted an email to the secretary of the sperm bank so as soon as she clicked the link to read more I’d have access to her computer, they didn’t even know I was in the system, they probably still don’t know I was there,” she explains it exactly how Penelope would.

“I don’t want you to think I’d ever not want you,” Spencer holds her hand a little tighter, “I’m not sure what the process will be like trying to get the foster agency to agree to me taking you home with us, but I’ll see what I can do. We have a big house and enough room for you in our hearts if this is where you’d like to be. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, you might hate the farm life and the isolation and all the cousins you now have, but you’re a piece of me and I’m not letting you go.”

She uses her free hand to wipe her tears on her sleeve again, “please, I know it’s not going to be the same but I miss having a family so much.”

He wraps her up in his arms, he knows the feeling all too well. One day his mom was there, the next day she was gone and no one prepared him for that. She never had to do this alone, Spencer wasn’t going to let that happen to her.

“Y/N is wonderful, you’ll love her and Amoreena. We live on a huge farm and there’s a lot to do during the day and people to spend time with, believe me, you’re going to feel so surrounded by the love you won’t know what to do with it all,” he shares from personal experience.

“Okay,” she hugged him tighter, pressing her face into his neck as he talked more, feeling the vibrations of his voice on her forehead to know that he was real. That his words were true and she was going to be taken care of.

“Is there anything about yourself that you’d like me to know? Or any questions you have? I’m sure this is going to be an interesting adjustment,” Spencer asked as he pulled away, looking down into her sweet eyes and seeing the hope she was still hanging on to.

“Is Y/N even okay with all of this? It’s her house isn’t it?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she knew I had you and the other 2 out there somewhere, we just never expected to meet you so soon,” he’s as honest as possible, talking to her the same way he would with Henry, she seemed even more mature than him.

“Can she come in here too? I’d like to get to know her as well, see if she’s really as lovely as you say she is,” she smiled, coping with her trauma the same way he and Y/N did, with humour.

Almost like Y/N could feel him thinking about her, she knocked on the door before opening it a crack, “sorry, I have some updates,” she smiled.

Josephine smiled at her, “come in.”

Y/N sat down close to her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “my sister is a foster parent, she called her caseworker and they were able to rush the emergency next of kin paperwork, you can stay with us for as long as you would like to.”

“You’re serious? You barely know me?” She kept repeating that as if she convinced herself earlier in the day that they wouldn’t want to know her.

Y/N wrapped her up in a soft hug and Spencer saw all the tension leave Josephines body as she settled against her. It had been a long time since a mother held her, she didn’t realize how much she needed it until she was in her arms.

“You’re half Spencer, so by default you have a portion of my heart now too. I’m not going to love you as an obligation or because I feel like I have to, I love you because you’re part of him and our family,” she whispers into her hair, “I know what it’s like to be alone, you never have to be... unless we’re smothering you then I get it, but you know what I mean.”

She laughed in Y/N’s arms before pulling back. Y/N held her face in her hands and looked at her gently. She ran her fingers through her dyed hair, “you’re going to fit right in with the 4 of us.”

“Four?” She repeats, wondering who else they lived with.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N smiles as Josephine lights up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a big sister,” she cried a little, “my mom named me after Jo from Little Women, she said she always planned to give me lots of sisters.”

“If this one is a girl she’ll be Eleonora like—“

“Like the poem, Edgar Allan Poe is one of my favourites,” Jo smiled again.

Somehow, without even being there, Amoreena’s mess of glitter glue was able to patch her older sister's broken heart right then and there too.

“I read really fast, my mom said she was going to go bankrupt buying books for me,” she opened up more and more, the hurt of the memories fading as she remembered them with happiness instead of mourning.

Her mom was gone, but the love of a mother filled her space once more. Y/N took her under her wing, keeping her warm and making sure he grew to be as happy healthy and wonderful as all her other babies.

—

They arrive at Taylor's door once again at 11:30. Amoreena is sound asleep in the spare room, not even able to change out of her princess costume or phone them to say goodnight. Taylor said she had a sugar crash and just asked to go to sleep, reminding Taylor that she had the best day ever before closing her tired little eyes.

Jo was very anxious to meet Taylor too, telling her a similar story to Y/N’s from just a few hours prior. Taylor made sure she was comfortable for the night in another spare room, making her a hot chocolate and some snacks from earlier that day at lunch. She was the best host, a wonderful friend and an even better honorary godparent to these girls of Spencer’s.

“Can I have a hug?” She sheepishly asks before she has to turn down the hall to her bedroom for the night.

Spencer answers by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest once more, he wasn’t sure how his heart could hold so much love for these girls, and still have room left to make more one day. It was a dream come true to have a family this big, no one was going to believe that he gained 3 kids and a wife in under a month.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, seeing her smile at the contact let him know it was fine. “Goodnight dad,” she whispers, pressing her lips together awkwardly the same way he did before turning down the hall and disappearing into her room.

She had only a backpack of things currently, not expecting everything to go as smoothly as it did. She had enough clothes to sleep in, and Taylor happily provided some old tour perch to her just in case she needed something new to wear. Something to help her ease to sleep that didn’t feel like she was going back to her old life in the morning.

Amoreena was going to have a field day tomorrow when she met her big sister, the beautiful girl who was busy covering her scars with bandaids provided by Spencer, but it would take a lot of time, effort and care to make her feel truly healed again. It was going to be interesting seeing Amoreena adjust to sharing him so early, especially since he knew Jo would need so much more attention to ease her anxiety moving forward.

Spencer sat on the guest bed beside Y/N, noticing all the rose petals and candles on the dresser and night tables, “oh she really had a lot planned for us.”

“She’s the fairy godmother of our dreams,” Y/N agreed with a laugh. “I don’t mind staying up late tonight if you don’t mind leaving on Monday instead?”

“I was going on suggest the same thing,” he smiled at her, leaning in to press their lips together gently for the first time since the wedding that afternoon.

“let's get into our comfy’s and go for a walk on the beach, Taylor left me the keys to lock up when we come back,” she whispered the words against his lips before smiling.

“Can I call Derek before we go? I really need to talk to him,” he’s honest with her as he pulls away, feeling really anxious and shook up at the events of the day. He needed his best friend.

“Yeah, I’ll go check out the rest of the guest house, come find me when you’re done?” She says softly, getting off the bed with a smile and stepping out of the room with a small wave.

He takes his phone out and dials the number, waiting with the phone pressed against his ear as it rings. Again and again, every new hum in his ear making his heart beat faster, “hello?” He’s finally rescued.

“Have you talked to anyone on the team lately?”

“Who died?” It was everyone’s go-to question when they got a phone call like this one.

“No one, quite the opposite actually—“

“She’s pregnant!” Derek shouts, cutting him off and Spencer can hear Savannah asking who from the background.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not why I'm calling,” Spencer replies only to be met with Derek's laughter.

“Penny and I had a bet on how long it would take.”

“She cheated because she knew we were trying,” Spencer takes the fun from him, Penelope always won. “I have another kid.”

“I know man, birth is so cool— well I’m telling him anyway,” Derek is clearly talking to Savannah and him at the same time, “we’re pregnant again too.”

“No, Derek, I’m pregnant and sick as hell while you’re perfectly fine,” she snaps back at him as she takes the phone. “You better be so kind to her Doctor Spencer Reid; rub her feet, make her breakfast, thank every god on earth and the ground she walks on for being willing to make another version of you, do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” Spencer hold back a laugh, wondering when Y/N would have a hormonal switch like that, “but I didn’t mean the one in her stomach, another fully formed human of my creation walked into the BAU looking for me today.”

There’s a rustling through the phone as Derek takes it back from her, “what the fuck did you just say?”

“Her name is Jo, she’s exactly a month younger than Henry and her parents died 7 months ago,” he continues without even repeating the last part, “Derek I have 3 kids now and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Where are you right now?”

“In Taylor Swift's guest house.”

“Spencer, be serious with me, are you doing drugs again?"

“Ask Penelope, she contacted Portia, Rossi’s stepdaughter, who contacted Taylor so I could help Y/N and Amoreena meet her, then JJ called and made us fly all the way to Quantico and now I have 2 children living with me and one on the way. Not to mention, child 1 is extremely jealous about sharing me with people and hasn’t even gotten accustomed to being a big sister, and child 2 is so traumatized she hacked the fucking sperm bank and explained it to me like it was as easy as making a sandwich. I am in over my head here, Derek.”

“Okay, that sounded more like Spencer Reid,” Derek’s calm and happy voice calms him slightly and prompts him to take a deep breath. “If she’s able to hack she’s most likely like Penelope, we can introduce them. She’ll need someone who understands the loss of a parent. Amoreena, on the other hand, you need to spend a day with just her. Take her to the movies, or to see a play or something. Let her know she’s always going to be your little girl no matter how many siblings she gets.”

“Thank you, I needed someone who wasn’t my overly optimistic wife to tell me if I could do it,” he’s overly honest, Derek is his person and will always be his person.

“I get it, thanks for calling me, I’m really glad you’re okay,” he can hear Derek's smile and all he wants is a hug from him. “How was the wedding?”

“Good, we all cried a lot,” he laughs then, “we were supposed to have a big dinner on the beach before we got called into Quantico, so I’m going to go spend time with her now, I love you, Derek,” he rushes the words out so he doesn’t get overly emotional.

“I love you too, Spencer, have a good night,” Derek hands up before they both get too emotional. They always had a knack for making the other cry in times like this.

He lets out a deep sigh before tossing his phone on the bedside table. 3 of his 5 kids were here with him and Y/N now, safe and sound. If anyone else needed him, they could wait.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

@k-k0129

[whats-rambled-rambled]

Long Nights - part 4

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4: World gone mad

(see chapter 3, 2, 1)

summary: inverted heist calls for inverted training

warnings: 18+, explicit language, gun mention, crackheadery, and possible whiplash

author’s note: Hi, yes, I know, took me ages, but hey, I hope it's worth the wait! 5.2k words, how even--

Anyway.

The song for this part is Bastille - World Gone Mad

Enjoy! All feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you think?

——————

Tag list: @cxnnienikas @neutron-stars-collision ​ @ergunbilge @invertedneil @wanderedaway @mellifluous-cosmos @wonderwoman292 @buckysgoldenheart @townmoondaltwistle @theriverbeneaththeriver (please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list)

-----

The fact that you knew how to handle guns wasn’t equal to you being very good at it. Or enjoying it, for that matter. Sure, you could more or less hit the target, especially with some useful tips you got from Neil regarding a trigger finger discipline, but still - you’d rather avoid reaching for a pistol altogether.

You put back the weapon you’d been training with and Neil handed you another one. You couldn’t really tell the difference, at least until you checked the magazine. The lack of ammo meant you finally got to the fun bit that Neil teased in The Protagonist’s office and you smiled, looking back at your companion. He grinned at you, the gaze sparkling behind yellow-tinted safety glasses as he pointed at the wall next to the targets you used for practice.

“Just aim and pull the trigger. ” Seeing your nod, he added, “Okay now, be careful, it might feel--”

The bullet whizzed back into the chamber of your pistol and your eyes widened.

“Oh fuck me sideways,” you hissed under your breath.

“-- a bit weird, yeah.” Neil chuckled at the shock painted on your face. “All right?”

“Yeah, just processing.” Trying to blink the consternation away, you asked, “How do you make these? You put it into that...turnstile and voilà?”

Neil shook his head. “No, it’s not that simple. We receive a stash every now and then, we don’t know how to manufacture those,” - he smirked - “at least not yet. I do have a few theories I’m working on in my spare time, but...” hesitating for a moment, he raked a hand through his hair and sent you a nervous smile. “Wouldn’t want to bore you to death, though.”

“Dude, come on, with that smooth and soothing voice of yours? You could read the yellow pages to me and I’d still listen like that--” you mocked a dreamy heart-eyes expression, watching with satisfaction as that remark pushed Neil further into a flustered state.

Apparently, when explicit teasing got a little-to-no reaction now, you could still make him blush with a more wholesome compliment. As you started laughing, he rolled his eyes and scrunched the nose slightly, joining you with a stifled giggle. Grinning, you continued a little softer, “I’m not gonna lie - I probably wouldn’t understand a majority of the physics jargon, but I’d still want to hear all about that.”

A thankful look you got in return made your chest clench painfully, and your mind wandered off to those breaks near the river, and Neil’s animated rants. You knew one thing. Anyone who had ever ridiculed him for his passion for even the nerdiest things could rot in hell, and you’d gladly see to it personally.

A disgruntled huff coming from behind made you both snap out of the moment.

“Oi, lovebirds, I’d appreciate it if you could leave all that to after I prep you for the mission.”

Bottling down your annoyance, you batted your lashes at the commander, who’d just come back with keys to one of the conference rooms near the range.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, you have my full attention now.”

Ives nodded, waving at you to follow him. Meanwhile, Neil’s small smirk let you know that he noticed that faint undertone in your voice, but he said nothing, patiently waiting for the events to unfold.

Another person was waiting for you at the door. You recognized the woman who’d driven you to that abandoned factory on your very first day - you’d never gotten properly introduced, but you remember asking Neil about her once and he called her Wheeler. To be honest, with these guys you never knew if they used their real names, nicknames, codenames, or whatever. Not that you cared, quite used to it in your own line of business. You exchanged a court nod with her and went into the room.

As you sat down at the big table and Ives booted a projector, your eyes bore into the man. Definitely one of those types who enjoyed his beret and the paramilitary structure of the field branch of the organization. Probably a bit too much. You bit back a smug grin.

Those were particularly fun to mess with.

Ives caught your piercing stare and stopped the brief of the location.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said, propping the chin on your palm, a polite smile on your lips. “It’s fascinating.”

He furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What is?”

“How your commanding presence literally adds you inches,” you said, using all your willpower to keep a serious face. “I wonder if it works only for your height or--”

Neil’d futile attempts at masking an amused snort with a cough didn’t go unnoticed. Ives shot him daggers and then glared at you. “For fuck’s sake, would you focus?”

Your eyes flared up at the threat in his voice and you pouted, taunting him further.

“Or what, you’re gonna spank me?”

“No, I’m gonna shoot you,” he deadpanned.

You raised a brow.

“Kinky.”

Ives groaned, turning to Neil.

“How you survived this long without choking her is beyond me.”

Neil puffed his cheeks and gestured vaguely, but as he opened the mouth to answer, you chimed in, with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“Oh, he very much did so, all right.”

The awkward silence that followed was pretty satisfying.

“Can we keep her?” asked Wheeler casually, leaned back in her chair, fiddling with a bullpen.

Ives gaped at you all, then slumped his shoulders in defeat, sliding a hand through his features. He was so done you could almost hear The Sound of Silence playing in the distance, but apparently, his sense of duty was stronger than the urge to leave you without finishing the briefing, so he just drew a deep breath and continued.

“...anyway…”

You caught Neil’s glance and you couldn’t help but poke the tip of your tongue out at him. The mischievous sparks in his eyes reflected your own as he shook his head, tugging the bottom lip between the teeth. Wheeler’s curious gaze flitted between you two, and as you didn’t feel like drawing too much unnecessary attention to yourself anymore, you focused on the plan that Ives was persistently going through.

Time frames. Blueprints. Entry points. Exit routes (you spotted at least one additional way he left out, but you weren’t sure if you could drag Neil through there, judging by that alley performance, so you didn’t bother to mention it out loud). Everything seemed clear enough. You still had no idea how being inverted would affect the lockpicking, but when you voiced that, Ives promised you some time to figure it out before the mission.

The mission. Huh. It wasn’t that much different from your usual assignments - at least if you forgot about that tiny insignificant detail like moving backwards in time - but something in this paramilitary and/or espionage vibe made your heart beat faster with excitement.

It had been quite a long time since you had company at the job. Working alone had its perks, but you wouldn’t mind a trusted partner in crime having your six for a change.

Another thing that you certainly wouldn’t mind - seeing Neil in tactical gear. Not that either of you would need one, but the image got planted in your head and suddenly you wished you’d had a bottle of water.

You realized that everyone was looking at you expectantly. Shit, was there a question or…?

“I’m good,” you said, shooting in the dark, hoping that would be enough to cover your distracted ass.

Ives squinted, but fortunately, that was an acceptable answer.

“Well, as you two can proceed straight from here - Wheeler, they’re all yours.’

“Okay,” - she smiled and stood up - “we don’t have any turnstiles on-site, but there’s one in the base outside the city, I’ll talk you through the basics on the way.”

So that little daydream cost you a chance to come back home to prepare? Grand. The problem was - you needed your heavy-duty tools, but you’d rather eat rocks than back away in front of Ives. Luckily, he called on Neil to wait for a moment, so that was your chance.

“Umm, Wheeler?” you asked quietly, following her outside.

She glanced at you curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I know I said I’m good, but could we stop by my apartment for a second, please?” An awkward grimace ran through your face. “I gotta pick up my tools. You know, just in case.”

She wasn’t surprised by your request. Moreover, she sent you a knowing smile.

“Sure thing,” she said and winked, and then it was your turn to present a slightly flushed face. “I’ve got you.”

----

You didn’t know what to expect from the whole inversion process.

The first time your brain stuttered was when Wheeler pointed at something she called the proving window, just in time for you to see the three of you coming out on the other side. You caught inverted-you glancing back at your present self; the schooled expression, but with the gaze shining with anticipation.

The second time was when it was you on the other side, looking at your wide-eyed past self. Feeling the incoming headache, you took a deep breath and followed Wheeler and Neil to the stand with oxygen masks.

“How are you feeling?” asked Neil, handing you the equipment.

“Weirdly normal.” You shrugged. “Or maybe not more backwards than usual, if that makes any sense.”

He smiled lightly.

“It’s the airlock. When you see the outside, you’ll get a whole new perspective.”

Wheeler nodded. “What he said. And to recap: you’re inverted, the world is not - all forces will be pushing back on you. Besides gravity.” She double-checked the oxygen bottle secured to your belt. “Just mind things that might be rising instead of falling.”

You furrowed the brows.

“Wait, didn’t Ives mention the rain?”

Neil smirked from behind the mask.

“Afraid of getting wet?”

“Never.” You grinned, meeting the sparkling blue eyes. “Should know that by now.”

Wheeler snorted and shook her head, walking to the panel near the exit.

“You’ll have plenty of time to finish the job before you move far enough to catch up on that. Although, if you ever find yourself in the inverted rain, here’s a tip: pop your collar.”

“Why would you--” Oh. The sole thought of the water going up from the ground to the sky made you nauseous. You swallowed with effort, leveling your breath in the mask. “...right.”

Wheeler opened the door and you almost gasped at the view. The golden rays of sunset (...or was it technically a sunrise now?) flickered on the training grounds’ equipment as the sky painted the scarce pools of muddy water with greyish violets and reddening oranges. Leaves shuffled in the wind, their dance almost satirical with that inverted spin.

Wheeler’s voice stopped your mind from wandering further into the landscape.

“Okay, ready? Ives asked me to remind you not to try any cowboy shit, you need to be in one piece at the end of the training.”

“Yes ma’am,” you mocked a salute and stepped outside, stretching your limbs, readjusting to the reality being slightly off. Neil stood right beside you watching you warming up, ready to take you to the obstacles section.

But as soon as the airlock’s doors closed behind you, you spun around, tapping his shoulder - “Tag, you’re it!” - and without waiting for his reaction, you leaped towards the assault course.

Surely that turned out overly optimistic. You counted on the element of surprise and a head start, but Neil had an experience with running while being inverted, while you… well. You tried.

“B+ for effort,” laughed Neil, catching up on you even before you reached the first obstacle and tapping you back. “But you can do better than that.”

“Just you wait!” you retorted and vaulted over a low hurdle, the mild confusion caused by the dumbfounded senses slowly eased up as you tuned out the brain and let the muscle memory guide your movements. Because hey, in the end? Yes, the natural forces were acting up against you. Yes, Neil had years of inverted training behind him. But you’d been challenging different obstacles your whole life, and courses like this one were your favourite playgrounds.

You caught on him by the next wall, playing dirty and tugging at his leg, pulling him down before he could jump to the other side. The exasperated huff he gave you in protest got lost in the squelch of mud under your feet, the sound more like a suction instead of the much-expected splash. Shuddering with disgust at such abomination, you rushed to the set of monkey bars, hearing Neil following up closely. You gritted your teeth, swinging your body to help yourself get through the part, and that’s when you felt a light tap on your foot.

You glared to your left, where Neil was gaining an advantage over you.

“Damn you and your infinite legs, man! It doesn’t count!”

“Losing looks good on you,” he said, landing and then instantly ducking under your reached out hand.

“Too bad it’s not gonna stick,” you scoffed as you ran after him to jump on one of the parallel logs. Balancing was easy enough, even with inversion; it gave you the perfect opportunity to plan ahead, while Neil had to maintain full focus. “Must say - all that sass definitely makes you like... ten percent hotter.”

But you’d taught him well, apparently, and instead of losing his pace, he only shot you a quick glance accompanied by an arched brow.

“Only ten?”

“Dunno, come over here and let me take a closer look,” you teased, getting a short chuckle in response. “No?” - you sighed - “Alrighty then.” And you leaped to the side straight into Neil, pushing him off the log. He yelped and grabbed you by the shirt, the momentum sending you both straight into the mud. You landed on top of Neil, collapsing into his arms for a moment to catch a breath and to stop laughing.

You leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, maaaybe fifteen,” you panted, booping his mask as you would do to his nose.

Neil snickered and nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

When your gazes met, his features softened, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently. You smiled behind the mask and sat up, straddling his waist. Neil was studying you closely, his hands grazed your sides and rested on your hips. Nibbling at your bottom lip, you leaned over him again and slowly reached out, and--

“Simba…” you choked out with reverence, brushing a muddy thumb across his forehead.

Tears from the held-back laughter threatened to spill any second as you observed Neil blanking out in utter confusion. The five stages of grief ran through his expression and then he closed his eyes and sighed theatrically.

“The fate of the world is in the hands of a complete madwoman.”

...the what now?

You tilted your head, grinning.

“Aren’t you a little dramatic?”

Then, without a warning, Neil shifted under you, rolling you off him and pinning you down.

“Birds of a feather and all that,” he said, clearly enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed as the mud got under your shirt. “You think you got a hang of the inverted movement already?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. Neil realized your intentions a second too late. A handful of mud splashed on his face and you chuckled with satisfaction. “Yeah, now I think I’m ready to go.”

You turned up at the airlock soon after, looking like something that cat dragged in, but beaming widely. Dreaming of a hot shower and a clean set of clothes, you put down the mask and the oxygen container and headed to the turnstile.

Wheeler was waiting for you near the machine, and seeing the state you were in, she just gaped at you both, trying to come up with an adequate question.

As you noticed her quizzical look, you gave her a thumbs up and smiled.

“If you ain't dirty, you ain't here to party! Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands up and trotting past her straight into the turnstile.

Right before reverting yourself back to your original state, you heard Wheeler’s hushed question.

“You two all right?”

And then Neil’s answer.

“Don’t worry, we’re good.”

--------

The truck’s engine hummed steadily, which could only mean you were on some sort of highway. At least the container stopped wobbling, so you could practice in peace.

No wobbles meant no excuses, though. You sighed, readjusting your grip on the tools.

Neil had fallen asleep some time ago, after making sure you figured out the locks and hearing your solemn promise that you would follow him soon.

One day after that eventful night, then inverting and going straight back without proper sleep. You knew he was right and you needed at least a nap. But you couldn’t. Not before you were absolutely sure you got it. The usual locks weren’t that bad. The inverted ones were a whole other story.

It’d taken you long enough to crack them in the safety of your own apartment, without the weird physics, ever-present even within the air-locked container. Without the pressure.

The fate of the world.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You didn’t even know what was that thing you were supposed to retrieve soon. It was okay, you didn’t need to. It was a quite common situation in your work history. That kind of knowledge could be dangerous, after all.

The pin clicked and you sighed again, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the burning sensation even for a moment.

Besides, you were doing it for Neil. The memory of that panicked look on his face when he’d seen the documents was enough to keep you going.

But did he have to say that?

You had to do it. Not only because you felt responsible for him, in a way. What you’d told the boss was true and you weren’t the only one at fault for Neil not being fully ready for that assignment. He was your friend, wasn’t he? And there was no way you’d leave a friend in need.

You pressed your lips together, forcing yourself to breathe.

Probably a stupid joke, nothing more.

But what if he was being serious? What if that thing out there was really that important? And you were about to fuck everything up because you couldn’t get your shit together fast enough to figure out the bloody inverted mechanism again. And with every minute wasted and not spent on resting there was a higher chance of messing up at the actual location.

Hell of a locksmith you were, huh?

The feedback from the tools came with a final warning like a sobering slap. If you were to continue, they would snap any second now.

You let out a shaky breath and retraced from the lock, hiding your face in the palms.

A gentle touch on your shoulder almost made you flinch. Of course, he had to wake up in the middle of your breakdown.

“Go back to sleep, we still have a few hours left,” you muttered into your hands, trying to collect yourself.

“Not before you talk to me,” said Neil as his fingers slid down your arm. He was crouching right beside you, the blue eyes boring into you with concern. “What is it?”

You sighed and shifted in your seat to face him.

“Wanna make sure I got it, that’s all.”

Neil’s brows knitted together.

“But I saw you open that lock once, why--”

“Once! And that’s exactly the problem!” you fumed and glared at the table. “I can’t crack it again, I--” your voice wavered and you gritted the teeth in frustration. “What if it was a stroke of dumb luck? Should I start praying for another one to happen there?”

Another delicate touch, this time on your knees, was enough to make you look back at Neil. A shade of smile tainted his lips as he searched your gaze.

“Someone used to tell me all the time that if you did it once, you can do it again.”

You hung your head and huffed, “Maybe that someone was full of shit.’

“I know for a fact that she wasn’t,” he chuckled, taking the tools out of your clenched fists and putting them back at the table. “She was utterly brilliant,” he continued, reaching for your cramping, trembling hands and taking them in his, ”and always reminded me to take a break instead of agonizing over a stubborn lock.”

That you did, all right. Your laugh sounded awfully close to a sob. God, if you weren’t exhausted.

Mustering enough strength to look him in the eyes, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey all the gratitude in the gesture. And hide that bit of embarrassment, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said and his thumbs brushed over your knuckles. “Scoot over.”

You moved back on the provisional bench, making enough space for him to sit next to you. And so he did, not letting go of your hands even for a second. He started rubbing small circles into them and you grunted softly. Neil gave you a knowing smile and soon enough, his fingers glided between your forearms and fingertips, applying pressure to the tensest places, careful strokes and precise moves bringing a much-needed release. You couldn’t help small groans escaping your mouth, every one of them adding to the self-satisfied grin hiding in the corner of Neil’s mouth. But then, instead of teasing you, his features softened and you caught his glance, warm and sheepish.

“I don’t think I properly thanked you for offering to help me with this mission.”

“I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” you laughed and winced as Neil’s thumbs worked on your wrists. “Don’t thank me yet, we still need to pull it off first.”

“Well, maybe we already have, from the typical point of view,” - he pondered, lighting up - “seeing that we are moving back--”

“Neil, please, I’m all for discussing it later, but right now it’s about to give me a pounding headache.”

When you met his eyes, you noted with relief that he didn’t mind you cutting him off like that. He knew that you were tired, nothing more.

“Right, sorry.” Then he looked at you with determination, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said quietly as your heart ached with unexpected fondness.

Neil smiled, shaking off the sentimental moment. His hands cupped yours and gave them a light squeeze.

“Now would you please get some rest?”

“Will you tuck me in?” you grinned and batted your lashes at him, earning an amused snort in return.

“I can even sing you a lullaby if that means you’ll fall asleep faster,” he said, standing up and tugging at your hand.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m gonna crash too fast to properly appreciate it,” you giggled as he kited you all the way to the resting area at the front of the container. “But I’m definitely taking a rain check on that.”

“Sure.” One final brush of his thumb over your fingers and he let go of your hand, smirking. “Now sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

-------

Neil proved to be an excellent companion.

You disabled the alarms simultaneously, paying attention to all the possible silent traps. Forcing the main locks went smoothly, almost surprisingly so. For having something of such importance hidden there, the owners of the place seemed strangely old-fashioned; it shone through the antique decor of the lofty apartment as well as the security choices. Too easy. Tuning out an intrusive thought rattling in the back of your head, you scouted the dark rooms, careful not to leave any traces of your presence.

There.

The office you saw in the photos.

...but they’d redecorated.

“That’s one fancy safe they got there,” you said nonchalantly, eyeing the ornament piece of metal lit by your flashlight, “Too bad it somehow got left out at the briefing.”

Neil’s face dropped when he followed you inside the room.

“Christ, and what now?”

Good question. You’d worked with safes before, hell, you’d cracked a fair share of them using simply manipulation. But never going bloody backwards in time. How would that even work? Was it normal or inverted?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

“I’ve got this.” And that’s how you felt, despite the initial panic. There was a method to it, and you had most of the things you needed with you. Perks of overpreparing. The only issue was-- ... “It might take a while, though.”

Neil nodded.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“Keep an eye on the time for me, I gotta focus,” you said, reaching into your backpack and accidentally pulling on the thin tube. Right. “...and maybe on the oxygen levels as well?”

“Will do.”

Your brain switched into the challenge mode, and your fingers tingled to give it a try. Armed with a sound amplifier and a little notepad, you sat down next to the safe and got to work.

Figuring out your way in was meant to be a hit and miss, doubly so with the goddamn inversion. But minute after minute, click by click, you determined the first contact points, and the years of experience took you from there. You scribbled numbers and variations in the notepad, fully focused on the task. Almost there.

Another combination. Inhale. Exhale. Pull.

Gotcha.

“Neil?” you called out in the hushed voice as the beam from the flashlight landed on a small metal box of a peculiar shape.

He was next to you in no time.

“That’s it,” he said, kneeling down. He reached inside and took out the box, then carefully placed it inside his backpack. The blue eyes glimmered in the dim light. “Good job!”

“Thanks,” you smiled and closed the safe. “Now let’s get out of here.”

You gathered and packed all your stuff, double-checking for any leftover signs of your entry.

Then you heard it. A faint, slightly off patter against the huge windows. You froze in place as your mind tried to grasp the view of trickles of rain coming up the glass.

Neil glanced outside, not mindful of the absolutely bonkers scene that wiped any coherent thought from your head. Although judging from how quickly his face lost all the colours, the view he got was even more disturbing.

“Christ…” he uttered, shooting you a panicked look. “We’ve got company.”

You dashed to the window to see for yourself. A group of people was crossing the empty street, moving pretty much normally, and that only meant...

Fuck.

“The owners?”

Neil shook his head. “Impossible. The third party, probably.” With his hand already on the holster, he hesitated, considering the options.

But there were only two: fight or flight. The problem was - the numbers didn’t look good for you to try pushing through the crew downstairs. And as for the second one, your initial exit routes seemed to be cut off already.

Although, there was still one path left. You almost smiled to yourself. He was not going to like it.

“Let’s go through the roofs.”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” he asked, scanning your face for any sign of doubt.

There was none.

“Yes, but we have to leave right now.”

He swallowed with effort and nodded.

As soon as you bolted out of the apartment and rushed up the stairs, the footsteps coming from the lower levels quickened. Time was running out.

You were about to barge outside when Neil grabbed your hand as if he sensed what was going to happen next. The doors opened and you lost the momentum, startled by the view. Heavy showers replaced the drizzle you saw through the window, intensifying the nauseating effect.

The last strands of sanity threatened to leave you, but Neil’s touch was like an anchor, grounding you and keeping you from spiraling further.

“Which way?” he shouted through the hammering, almost deafening rain.

You blinked rapidly and looked around to match the data from the brief to the actual location.

“Over there!”

Wishing you’d had a goddamn collar to pop, you leaped to the side, guiding Neil through your only escape route. You let go of his hand to vault over the vents, and just as your feet touched the surface again, you heard distant yells behind you. Shit.

The high density of the area was working in your favor, but only for so long. There was meant to be a gap between the buildings sooner or later, and one of them was coming right up. The jump was doable, even for Neil - all you needed was speed and a decent launch.

But when your companion noticed the edge of the roof, he slowed down and stopped by a low parapet wall, cursing.

“No fucking way!”

“Yes fucking way, Neil, come on! We don’t have time!” you urged him as the voices behind you grew louder.

He swallowed with effort, too transfixed on the gap. You bit back an impatient groan and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look at you.

“Neil, listen to me. You can do this. All you need is a run-up.”

He didn’t seem convinced. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your own rising panic in check.

“Do you trust me? Yes or no?”

He met your eyes and his features hardened. There.

“I do.”

And when you opened the mouth again, the first bullet whizzed past you. You flinched, but maintained the eye contact, afraid to lose Neil’s newfound confidence. “Then go first, I’m right behind you.”

Neil nodded and backed away quickly. Watching him jump, your heart skipped a beat, but he landed on the other side without too much trouble. Good. Your turn.

You dashed towards the rim and another bullet missed your legs by a hair’s breadth, hitting the parapet wall right ahead of you. A little close to the top, as you noted, jumping on it to leap across the gap.

But the realization came a moment too late. The wall crumbled under your feet.

Enough for you to not make it to the other side.

Someone screamed.

Was it you?

It didn’t matter.

The world dissolved in a flash of agonizing pain.

And darkness.

----

Static beeping. The smell of disinfectants. And your every particle throbbing in dull pain.

Somebody was having a quiet conversation nearby. The Protagonist… and Neil?

A wave of relief flooded over you. He’d made it.

Grunting, you opened your eyes and squinted, waiting for your sight to readjust to the poor light. Weird. Why would they keep you in such a pitch-black room?

“Gents?” you called out, carefully shifting upwards, wincing. “Would you mind getting the lights?”

The conversation stopped and you heard a gasp.

“Lights? But it’s the middle of the day?” said The Protagonist, but Neil cut him off.

“You’re awake!” Footsteps and a sudden touch on your hand. Neil’s voice trembled slightly, as well as his fingers. “Are you okay?”

You bored into darkness, hoping to see the familiar face.

To see anything.

To see.

(next chapter ->)

[shoot-the-oneshot]

Counting the days: day 1

Series summary. You go to a friends bachelorette party in Italy and meet the man of your dreams, NOT, you didn’t see the part where you get kidnapped by a gangster on your friends itinerary. How will you handle being thrown into a life of guns and mafias.

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Series masterlist

A week in Italy, your dream vacation. Only difference is when you imagined it you didn’t see the screaming girls surrounding you.

Sinking further into your seat when the squeals start up again. Your eyes shifting to to the right when Ally jumps in the empty seat next to you.

“You know I don’t think planes work like that.”

You tease, seeing equal annoyance on her face. You both loved Katie, the bride to be.

But her friends that seem determined to hit a new octave with their high pitched yells, not so much.

“Oh hush we’re already here they won’t say anything. Plus you didn’t just spend ten hours sitting next to a freakin squeaky toy.”

Laughing as you pushed her out of the way to grab your bag. Her grabbing hers as you pass her seat when the plane stops.

“Y/n, Ally, come on the cars waiting!”

Katie yells, still wearing a very inappropriate headband which is one of the reasons the two of us were keeping our distance until now. When we meet the group outside they immediately shove sashes over our heads. Ally was miss behaving, while I was hot mess. Rolling my eyes while she laughs.

“At lest you’re hot.”

After dinner we went to the resorts bar and took up a cabana by the pool. After a few hours of her housewife friends throwing subtle digs at you for being not being married yet.

“Clarity!”

“I’m just saying, Y/n is a pretty girl but she can’t wait to settle down forever.”

“Yeah I’d take your advice if I wanted my husband to be sleeping with his assistant.”

Ally coughs as she choked on her drink laughing while everyone else is still shocked that you even knew that. You didn’t, it was a guess but judging by her face you hit the nail on the head. As politely as you could you excused yourself saying you needed to find a bathroom, more like you needed the bar.

While you were still ranting in your head you accidentally bumped into a hard chest. Mumbling apologizes as you backed off, stopping as you looked at his face. Hello tall Italian and handsome. Taking a moment to look him over wearing all black, a few tattoos you can see, intense look in his eyes. As hot as he was there was something about him that send warnings off in your head.

“Are you lost babygirl?”

Before you could reply Ally comes running up, and starts shaking you.

“Y/n, that was amazing did you see her face!”

When you looked back for mystery man he was gone, so you let your guard down and let her drag you to the bar while telling you about the reactions you missed.

You’ve been here for five days. Just enough for you to fall in love with the place and your tan to be just right. You and Ally thankfully shared a room and while the champagne that room service brought every night that neither of you ordered creeped you out your roommate loved it.

And right now was a moment you were happy for the alcohol. The party was out at a restaurant while the food was amazing the company, not so much. Charity has made it her mission to get under your skin and while you found it funny Ally did not.

“Men don’t like women that drink Y/n”

“Shut it Karen!”

“It’s Charity!

“Sure!”

Seeing the two bicker you didn’t want it to ruin your friends bachelorette vacation. Taking yourself from equation was the best option, it was easy enough to slide away coming up with some lie about feeling sick and wanting to go back to the hotel.

Giving a few hugs to the people you actually like before taking your leave. The city was beautiful at night but you were definitely lost. While you weren’t exactly heading back immediately you’d like to at least know what direction the hotel was in.

Just as you were about to give in and call a taxi, the trashcans down the alley suddenly tipped over, your hand coming up to your chest to calm your breathing, laughing when a cat came running out. Turning around you bumped into someone for the second time this week and this man sent up red flags too.

And you should probably learn to listen to those instincts, because the next think you know everything went black.

The first thing the went through your head when you woke up was that this definitely wasn’t your hotel room or even the alley. You weren’t sure if you’d rather woken up here or back there. The room was beautiful, you can admit that. The dark floors and walls contrasted perfectly with the gold accents the biggest shower you’ve ever seen. Big double doors, wait doors! Almost tripping over the dress you were thankfully still wearing in you haste to get to the doors. Locked of course, you’ve seen enough criminal minds to know how this goes. They locked the doors but the windows however were open, Amateurs. They probably thought you wouldn’t risk the two story jump, but you’re pretty sure the climb down is better than what’s on the other side of those doors.

Pushing open the window, getting hit with the ocean breeze. The molding on the outside walls gave almost perfect steps for you to take down. You swear nothing had ever felt as good as the grass under your feet in that moment. you couldn't enjoy it for long before you heard yells, that was quick.

Gathering your dress in your hands you take off running. Looking for a way out when the voices started coming from all around you. You’re trapped, the only thing you can get to is the pool so that’s where you go.

Slowly getting into the pool to not create a splash, taking deep fast breaths until you see shadows come around the corner. Gasping once more slipping under the water keeping your back to the wall. You never thought you’d use anything you learned in those diving classes for once you were glad to be wrong.

All you heard was muffled voices, after what felt like forever they started to fade, waiting a few more seconds before coming up just to be safe. But before you could two hands reach through the water hauling you up.

Choking between screaming and gasping for air, barely noticing the man picking you up until he gently sets you down on a couch.

It’s mystery man! You can only see his back but you’re sure it’s him. Especially when he turned back. You didn’t see the towel that was around your shoulders until he finally spoke. Leaning on his arm that was resting above the very elaborate fireplace.

“Was the idea of being here so bad that you tried to kill yourself twice to get away?”

The words rolled off his tongue, thick with frustration and his Italian accent. Did he think you wanted to be here? You didn’t even know where here was. Oh if only you weren’t trapped in an episode of Dexter this situation would almost be hot.

“While it was incredibly stupid to jump out a window, I must admit I admire your dedication the pool was very smart. But if you try it again I will not be as kind.”

As his sentences went on the closer he got, step by step the more intimidating he became. He ended up only a few inches away from your face. Arms reaching the back of the couch trapping you between them.

“So next time don’t let you catch me”

Those were not the words he wanted to hear, he made that fact very clear but tugging the towel tighter around your neck and pulling you even closer as he growled.

“Don’t test me, If you run again I can always chain you to the bed. How would like that? Think you could run then?”

No you don’t, but you do think you can play nice and slip away once you gain his trust. So you kept quiet, taking your silence as cooperation he backs off back to the fireplace.

“Five years ago my life changed, I watched my father die by a bullet that was meant for the both of us. I didn’t see my life flash before my eyes I saw you, I’ve looked for you for years, no one believed you were real they said you were only my imagination, but when I saw you at the airport I knew I had to make you mine.”

You could see where everyone was coming from. You didn’t believe him either it was insane! “I’m not yours!” You couldn’t help but say. Now Y/n you really shouldn’t tell the psycho that he’s a psycho. You could hear Ally tell you now.

“I know, that’s why I’m giving you a chance to fall in love with me. Not because I forced you but because you want to. I’m giving you 365 days to love me and if in a year nothing changes I’ll let you go.”

Three words. What. The. Hell.

“I have a family, friends, a boyfriend! they’ll look for me!”

“My men have collected your things from the resort, your friends think you left to ease the tension with that woman. Your family thinks you found out your boyfriend cheated on you so you’re staying here to get over it. Y/n, if you give it a chance you’ll love me, I know you will. I’ll do everything to make you love me.”

DAY 2

❤️part one is done. I know it sucked but it will get better but hope you guys Liked it stay tuned for more. My request are still open!❤️

Series tag list: @calirindo

[binniewon]

In Their Eyes 7

Prev|Next

Pairing: Hybrid!BTS/ Female!Human Reader

Warning: Mild cursing 

A/N: YAY loves chapter 7 please enjoy most just Hobi but he is really important to the story- anyways I probably won’t update this in a while I am super busy but I love you!! Also if you want to be on the taglist please let me know!

Taglist:

@babyboytae1  @crystal581  @reallysparklychaos  @mayla548  @dbaby14  @missseoulite @tundrafox548   @tae-letubbie @thebleuprince​ (unable to tag @alex--awesome--22)

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Recently you had been thinking about the task that the scientist asked you to do and honestly you were ready to get out of the place, but it seemed like every time that you would want to get the damn thing over with so that you could leave Hobi’s beautiful smile and cute ears would pop into you head add that to Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook and you would chicken out every time. You don’t know why they have started to mean so much to you in this short amount of time but you knew that you needed to stop thinking about them and just do it the scientist were starting to become inpatient.

You figured that you would need to distance yourself from them if you every wanted to leave this place, but did you?

“Hey Y/N wake up” You recognized that voice anywhere and by the way that the sun hadn’t start to peek through your make shift blinds you knew that it was Hobi, every morning you guys went out to the lake and watched the sunrise but today would be the day that you started to distance yourself the more that you were detached the better.

“Hobi not today okay” you could all but hear his whine as the words left your mouth and you could feel your heart breaking.

“D-did I do something wrong” you regretted looking at him because the face that he was giving you almost had you caving in, almost.

“No Hobi I j-just don’t feel good” his ear perked up in alarm at your confession and he was immediately by your side.

“Do you need to go see Jinyoung he probably isn’t awake but I’m sure he would be more than happy to check you out and make sure everything is fine” how could you do this to them Yoongi and Namjoon were another story but the others had been so nice to you especially Hobi so how could you just betray them like this, you mother didn’t raise you to be like this but she wasn’t here anymore-

“I’m fine Hoseok I just need some space” you said upset, at yourself, but you took it out on him you quickly turned away from him but it wasn’t fast enough because you saw the hurt flash in his eyes and his ears flatten against his head, you had hurt the only person who without a doubt trusted you from the beginning and it was all because you were selfish.

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You stayed in your bed all day long you knew that if you came across Hobi you would march over to the scientist and tell him to leave the hybrids and you alone but you couldn’t do that because you needed to get home.

A rapid knock on your door had you sitting up as you waited for the hybrid on the other side to make themselves known and by known you mean to make sure it wasn’t Yoongi or Namjoon you didn’t want to have to confront them until it was time and you were dreading it.

“Y/N open the fucking door” that was Yoongi, you quickly looked around for some way to escape Yoongi was really possessive when it came to his mates but he was even more possessive with Hobi and if Hobi told him how you treated him and what you said you were a dead man walking.

“Fine I will just break it down” this was your only form of privacy in the hellhole and you didn’t want that taken away from you so you jumped up and quickly unlocked it. As soon as the door was open Yoongi pushed you backwards you didn’t have a chance to regain you balance so you fell backwards and hit your head which didn’t feel too great.

“What the fuck is wrong with you huh Hoseok came to me crying because you hurt his feelings, I understand that you don’t “feel good” but that doesn’t mean that you have to yell at Hoseok he doesn’t deserve it so you will go fucking apologize to him now!” once he stopped his rant you snapped out of whatever trance you were in and quickly felt at the back of your head and when you did you felt something hot and wet, it didn’t take a genius to know what it was but you still brought your fingers to the front of your face to examine if you were in fact bleeding and to no one’s surprise you were.

It seemed like Yoongi snapped out of whatever trance he was in also when he saw your bloody fingers “Fuck Y/N I-i- NAMJOON” you didn’t want to start freaking out but it was kind of hard when your head was bleeding and two people who absolutely hated you were standing over you trying to figure out what they should do.

“Let’s just take her to Jinyoung” Namjoon said which Yoongi quickly dismissed “He would kill us” Namjoon nodded his head in agreement “If the others find out they might kill us also” again Yoongi shook his head “Not if they have already found out what she did to Hoseok” you figured Namjoon already knew as his face quickly morphed to one of hatred “Your right”.

You started to become light head so you laid down just in case you passed out you could still hear them talking but you chose to block them out they were just making you feel worse.

It wasn’t until you heard hushed whispers that you chose to lift your throbbing head to see what was going on, you watched as the other five boys walked in “Hey we smelled blood and- oh my god Y/N” Hobi was quickly at your side with his hand under your head trying to stop the bleeding.

“What the fuck did you do Yoongi” Hobi asked his mate pissed off when Yoongi said he was going to come talk to you he convinced Hobi that he wouldn’t hurt you and Hobi believed him.

“I didn’t do anything” at his reply Hoseok growled at him “So she magical ended up on the ground with her head bleeding?” Yoongi huffed at Hoseok’s question “I-I accidently pushed her too hard I swear it was an accident” Hobi snickered at his lover “Bullshit Yoongi”

You were getting tired of the fighting so you tried to defuse the situation but found it quit hard as the room started to spin and you felt yourself start to become lightheaded.

“H-he i-isn’t l-l” was the last thing you said before you blacked out.

[gingwrites]

Who Did This to You? (Yoonmin)

Whumptober Masterlist | BTS Masterlist

Summary: Jimin's (now ex) boyfriend becomes abusive, so Jimin leaves him and runs to Yoongi, who is waiting with open arms to patch him up.

or, whumptober prompt day 3: “Who did this to you?”

Tags: abusive relationships, non-graphic violence, non-graphic abuse

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Jimin knew he’d made a mistake the second he walked in the door at 10:05, five minutes after he’d told his boyfriend he’d be home. It was a Friday night, and he’d gone out with a few of his best friends to get dinner. Traffic had been a bit heavier than he’d expected on his way home, but luck apparently wasn’t on his side.

The moment the front door clicked shut, the yelling had started. That wasn’t new. Two minutes after Jimin stepped foot into the living room, where he saw his very drunk boyfriend on the couch surrounded by beer bottles, the throwing had started. That wasn’t new either. And, five minutes after that, the hitting and punching had started. That was new.

Their relationship hadn’t always been like this, of course not, or else Jimin would never have stayed or agreed to live with the older man. It had started not long after Jimin had moved in, about a year into their relationship.

First it was just words. After a few months, words didn’t seem to be enough and it turned into throwing items around the apartment. Jimin had spent a fortune on replacing the decorative items that were easy to throw and somehow always within grabbing distance. 

It seemed like just throwing items in Jimin’s general direction wasn’t enough anymore either. 

Jimin had put up with the yelling, the insults, and having plates thrown at his head because he really did love his boyfriend, and honestly, he didn’t know what he’d do if they weren’t together. They did live together, but Jimin wasn’t paying rent. He did have a job, but it was only part time so he could still go to classes. Most of his money went toward school or food. He hadn’t been able to save up a lot of money.

There was also the fact that Jimin didn’t want his friends to find out. He knew he was in an abusive relationship. He knew he needed to get out before it got worse. But, he couldn’t find it in himself to do that. He didn’t want his friends to find out how stupid he’d been by staying with his boyfriend for this long. Jimin kept hoping that this was all just a phase and it would go away on its own. His boyfriend had been complaining about how stressful his job had become in the weeks leading up to the abuse starting.

Jimin knew that there wasn’t any reason his boyfriend could give that would justify the abuse, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

At least, not until tonight. Tonight, he’d gone too far. 

Jimin’s whole body hurt. He could feel his head throbbing. He was pretty sure he had a black eye and probably some bruised ribs. At least it seemed like nothing was broken.

The apartment had been silent for the last fifteen minutes, and Jimin figured that his boyfriend had passed out in the bedroom. He’d left Jimin on the living room floor to deal with his injuries, not even sparing a glance back at him when he was done.

Dragging himself up slowly off the floor, wincing at how much it hurt to move, Jimin walked to the front door and grabbed his keys and bag from where he’d dropped them not even an hour before.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Jimin slipped out and made his way to his car. He didn’t know where he was going or what he was going to do, but he was getting out of there.

Ten minutes into the drive and Jimin realized where his brain was subconsciously taking him. Yoongi’s apartment.

Jimin and Yoongi had been best friends for a couple years now. They’d met early on in Jimin’s freshman year at college, Yoongi a couple years ahead. They’d hit it off pretty quickly and found a mutual group of friends. Yoongi was Jimin’s person. And once upon a time, Jimin might’ve had a crush on the older man. 

That all changed when his boyfriend, no, his ex-boyfriend, came into the picture. Jimin had been smitten from the start, his crush on Yoongi taking a backseat. Yoongi had never liked Jimin’s boyfriend, but he saw how much Jimin cared about the other man, so he kept quiet. Most of the time. Jimin just hoped that Yoongi would take him in and help him now, even after he hadn’t listened to him.

A few blocks later, Jimin was pulling into the parking lot at Yoongi’s apartment complex. It took Jimin a few minutes to even get out of the car, body starting to get sore from the beating he took the hour before. He really wasn’t prepared to see what he actually looked like.

Grateful that the building had an elevator, Jimin quietly made his way to Yoongi’s apartment. Luckily, it was late, so nobody was around to see him in his sorry state.

Jimin paused outside Yoongi’s door, suddenly nervous. What would his best friend think of him? Would he still want to be friends? Would he take Jimin in now that he didn’t have anywhere to go?

Knocking three times before he lost his nerves even more, Jimin looked down at his feet, nervously swaying from side to side.

“Jimin?” Yoongi asked as soon as the door opened. “What are you doing here? I just saw you an hour ago. Is everything okay?”

Jimin finally looked up, causing Yoongi to gasp.

“What the hell happened? Who did this to you?” Yoongi quickly reached out to gently pull Jimin into his apartment, leading him to the bathroom so he could get his first aid kit. “It was him, wasn’t it? I’m going to kill that bastard!”

Jimin kept silent, not sure how to respond.

Gesturing for Jimin to sit on the counter, Yoongi leaned down and shuffled around in the cabinet until he let out a quiet ah hah! and pulled out a small first aid kit, setting it on the counter next to Jimin.

“This is the first time it’s happened,” Jimin felt like explaining after sitting in silence after Yoongi started cleaning one of the many cuts on Jimin’s face. “I promise. He hasn’t done anything near this bad before.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Jimin,” Yoongi sighed.

“I know! I know!” Jimin rushed to interject. “I just...I don’t know. He wasn’t always this bad. He’s never hit me before. Sure, he’s yelled and thrown things at me, but he’s never stooped this low. And before you say anything, yes, I’m leaving him. I’m smart enough to know that it will only get worse from here. I just don’t know where I’m going to go. I wasn’t even paying rent. I don’t have that kind of money, not with only working part time.”

“You’re going to come here. Is that even a question?” Yoongi insisted. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you live on the streets when I have a perfectly good spare bedroom?”

Jimin felt himself smile, but then let out a small hiss, his movements pulling open one of the cuts on his face.

The two sat in silence again, Yoongi slowly making his way across the cuts littering Jimin’s face.

“Maybe I did deserve it,” Jimin spoke quietly after the silence became too much for him.

“You definitely did not,” Yoongi insisted, straightening his back to look Jimin in the eye. “No one deserves that. And I don’t ever want to hear you say that to me again. You are the kindest, sweetest, most caring human being I have ever met. You did not deserve this in the slightest. He’s an asshole who needs to learn to control his anger and not take it out on other people.”

Yoongi paused for a moment, catching his breath after his small rant. 

“You deserve someone who will take care of you,” Yoongi continued passionately, turning his attention back to cleaning a cut on Jimin’s face so he didn’t have to look the younger man in the eye. “Someone who won’t use you as a punching bag. Someone who will treat you like the amazing person that you are.”

“Someone like you?” Jimin whispered?

Jimin felt Yoongi’s hand falter for a split second.

“Yeah, someone like me,” Yoongi replied. 

The hand Yoongi was using to clean fell to his side. He took another moment before finally looking at Jimin’s face, which was full of hope.

“But I don’t want to be a rebound or anything like that,” Yoongi said. “I know it’s going to take some time to get over him and move past what he’s done to you.”

“Will you wait for me?”

“No.” Jimin’s heart sank. “But only because I’ll be right next to you the entire way. And once you’re ready, you just let me know and I’ll be there.”

Jimin’s heart soared. He really had lucked out with someone like Yoongi.

“Thank you,” Jimin beamed. He quickly leaned forward and placed a quick peck on Yoongi’s cheek, his own cheeks heating up.

“Alright, no more talking,” Yoongi shook himself out of his shock after a moment. “Let’s get the rest of you cleaned up.”

The next day, Yoongi took Jimin to pack up his things from his apartment. And if Yoongi left with bruised knuckles, nobody needed to know.

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And I'm still behind. Don't look at me. I'm trying, okay? Also, I'm trying for tickets tomorrow, so I probs won't be writing anything tomorrow unless that goes quickly. Who knows.

Please let me know what you think! And if you have ships you'd like to see or specific prompts (the full prompt list is linked on the whumptober masterlist), then please let me know! I'd love to hear them!

And follow me on twitter (@/yoongismandu)!

[guevaraobsessed]

revolution.

so..........hi.

time for a long, probably boring paragraph or fifty about revolution :D

firstly, match of the night,, it’s between two (and i’m totally unbiases guys). i’d have to say it’s between sammy, darby, & sting vs ahfo and mjf vs cm punk.

i’m not biases guys i swear,, those are just the matches i enjoyed the most. i was on the edge of my seat for both matches (once from excitement, once from fear) and they just happen to involve my faves SO WHAT.

but likeeeee, let me just discuss these two matches rq, then i’ll just discuss my other faves.

the tornado tag match...my besties slayed that’s all. and sting my man...mvp of the match bro. mans is older than my parents and they would simply d-word if they tried that table shot. mad respect for you broski. but sammy & darby tho :((( my fave unofficial besties :((( for those who don’t know (after this post you can probably tell though) they’re two of my faves and UGH i just love seeing them together :)

and then,, the dog collar match. *shivers from flashbacks* that match. it stressed me out. it hurt me. it made feel like i bleeding along with them. help. basically, i just took a lot of eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe from that match,, sigh. max...maxie....babe :( tonight wasn’t your night don’t let it eat you up. for those who don’t know (which is no one because i talk about 24/7), max is one of my faves (probably my number one fave tbh...) BUT cm punk was my fave growing up so....*cries* but but but!! to literally NO ONE’s surprise, BESTIE WARDLOW with the betrayal of the century. i’m...i’m hurt. not shocked, but very hurt. wardlow man you did me dirty but it’s okay i’ll still love you. but yeah. i’m just. i’m a mess.

anyway, ADAM VS ADAM *thunder rumbles in the distance* boy when i tell you this match had me reeling. i personally wanted adam to win :) but this match was so entertaining,, my adam of choice for the evening (and all evenings) was adam cole (bay bay) so i’m kinda bummed that my man didn’t win but it’s okay because i personally believe that someone else (*cough cough* maxwelljacobfriedman *cough cough*) should be the one to take the belt from hangman and finally get what they have deserved since they stepped foot in an aew ring (here’s me making this about max yet again) sigh. but yeah end of rant.

other great things from last night that made me smile :D

- the ladder match,, bestie i love a good ladder match. my pick to win was of course bestie wardlow who is now temporarily no longer my bestie (i need time to recover guys) but honestly i like all those boys so i really didn’t have too much of a preference about who won. congrats to the traitor wardlow i guess...

- the tag titles match....oh broskis when i tell you these are my three favorite teams in aew...another match that stressed me out :) i did end up picking jungle boy and his dinosaur bestie :D simply because i was wearing my four pillars shirt and i could never go against any of my pillar boys when i’m wearing their shirt (or when i’m not wearing their shirt) but man did everyone deliver. i love reDRagon guys. so much. i really thought they had it at the end but alas, i was mistaken. but the BUCKS bro. i love them too ugh this match was iconic.

- HOOK PPV DEBUT HOOK PPV DEBUT. my MAN. my absolute fave rookie of the year every year bro i love this man so much (y’all probably guessed that) and oh boy did he eat qt UP. ugh i’m proud. i’m so proud. he looked so lovely too. i’m in love guys.

- both women’s matches :) i love when women <3 i love everyone who was there but just like i do with every ppv event, i am once again asking where tf is my girl penelope ford. i miss her. i miss her and i want her back now. but britt though :))) i love my fave dentist <33 but the kiss in tay vs jade??? hello??? it was so unprovoked LMAO. but like no complaints here broskis we love to see the fruitiness. 

fin.

(but fr tho i loved every match on this show,, i would give it a 10/10 thank you tony khan for once again showing me why i love professional wrestling)

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

iv. Relationships w/ MC | Obey Me | Actor AU

Request: Hello! I saw that your ask box is open, so I have come bearing a request. I found ur blog thru your OM actor au and I adore it to bits. Your interpretation of the characters was delightful and the gag/bloopers had me laughing so hard! May you please expand on the au by sharing your relationship headcanons of how the cast interacts or feels about MC (platonic/romantic)? I hope this finds you well 💖💖💖

Word Count: 3225 words

Page Count: 9.2 pages

A.N. Hope you guys enjoy this!

Tags: @weebartistinc​

[ M A S T E R L I S T ]

Lucifer / Benjamin

        The relationship between Benjamin [ Lucifer ] and MC would more like master and apprentice. Think of RDJ and Tom Holland. Ben is more lax than his show counterpart for sure. Where Lucifer would be prideful, Ben is humble, where Lucifer is smug, Ben can be self conscious. I'd like to think the MC of the "real world" thinks much more logically, doesn't throw themselves into things head first and is more calculating. Maybe something more like Satan? 

        Between the two of them, they are lax and playful, throwing inside jokes and playfully fighting. Ben [ Lucifer ] is like the "cool dad" that loves to mess around with his kids, which makes sense because he does have his own, they are fairly young and I can see MC babysitting in case it was needed. There's a deep trust between the two that can't really be described. Ben really wants MC to prosper in their career and will guide them- but he doesn't want to baby them either, he wants them to test the waters on their own. If they ever get overwhelmed he's there for them though.

        His dumbass is forgetful to check his sugar as well, so you can catch MC helping to remind him to check it/eat/drink if needed. He didn't have the most welcoming background- he didn't have the support system a child needs, so he strives to be that and forgets to care for himself often.

        "I want to give my kids everything I never had and more, just like how I want it for you too, MC."

Mammon / Avery 

        Avery [ Mammon ] is very business oriented and formal. MC and him would get along well, like their Obey Me counterparts, but just more lax and less chaotic. I see them as the type to go on coffee dates to catch up and get away from it all, seeing as how famous he is, he often likes to find smaller and less well known places to dwell. Enjoys the small and peaceful moments with MC and they can relate with being the most famous of the cast- so they often get treated the same.

        I can see them having a deep platonic and familial connection while also being distant. Avery has trouble opening up due to being frequently used for his money, and though he and MC are on the same playing field, he has his moments where he needs to back away and recuperate. And though he is distant, if MC or himself were to ever need anything, they're at each other's beck and call. Think of the relationship as: MC is the younger sibling that was born like... 10 years after Avery and he is the older brother, they are distant at times, but still love each other deeply and fiercely.

        "MC, what do you think of this new script- who is that on your page? They're liking too many pictures at once... a bit desperate- don't you think?"

Leviathan / Jackson

        This one... is a little complicated. Really- he's a fuck boy and he doesn't care. I can see him as very... objectifying- and not just sexually either. He can see how to use someone to their fullest advantage, but only for his sake, just for to further himself or satisfy any needs he has. MC is a playful flirt, but once Jackson [ Leviathan ] starts to pull the moves, I can see MC pulling back quickly and isolating away from him. Until there is a serious moment where Jackson can prove that he can provide something meaningful to the relationship- it's going to remain cold and formal. MC isn't playing games.

        This can be one of the few relationships that, if managed properly by MC and Jackson [ Leviathan ], can make their relationship to a more friends with benefits type or something romantic. Jackson [ Leviathan ] needs to learn how to stop seeing people as tools and more like... people. MC, in turn, would need to learn boundaries for themselves. They'd probably be so used to accepting people that keeping Jackson at a distance would be weird and almost foreign to them. If they both want things to work out for a proper, and healthy, relationship- it's going to be a lot of work.

        "MC, come here, I need you for something. Hm? No, no- nothing like that. I thought maybe... we could just hang out? Normally?"

Satan / Ross

        Honestly? MC could do better than Jackson [ Leviathan ] and Ross is it, babes. He is definitely the most understanding of MC and takes their own emotions into consideration. Wow kinda like Satan. He still does those live streams and gets smacked on a couple of grams, so MC is there either smoking as well or just getting hot boxed, their tiger dyed cats running everywhere. The live stream then turns into a kitten purring ASMR, then eventually, everyone is asleep on a live stream together. Ross [ Satan ], is a sweetheart as well, remembers the little things about MC and will make them special gifts or gestures for them. Is the type of boyfriend to leave random kisses on them just because.

        Ross [ Satan ], also likes to talk, so he does like to pick MC's mind and see how they think- which in turn touches their heart because WOW. A guy they like isn't using them or being a general ass? He doesn't play around, so if you want a relationship prepare to be in something for the long haul, family affairs are now your business as well. He is super close with his younger brother Dmitri [ Luke ], so you need his approval as well. Ross also can help with building confidence and a stronger self image, but a major downside is that he is lazy, like, he is really fucking lazy. He's tired though, with his job, the animal shelters, watching his brother, and avoiding... them- he wants to just be a homebody. MC does a lot of home dates, but they end up very fulfilling because it's Ross, he knows how make make even the smallest moments feel like everything.

        "Look at ya, MC! Damn, you always have me fallin' for ya all over again."

        "I'm in sweatpants and a tanktop, babe, nothin' special."

        "And you make 'em look fine as hell. Now come 'ere, let's watch a movie, look-! An MC sized space is here, right between my arms, neat right?"

Asmodeus / Micheal

        He's like the best friend who acts like the wine mom. He's the wine mom. He's mom. Always come to him for help, from either something as small as a rant to larger issues like contracts and relationship advice. This a more platonic/familial relationship that MC would develop. They can delve into more personal and private conversations, confident Micheal has the best intentions and advice, and in turn MC helps him out with what their generation is up to these days.

        Pinching MC's cheeks? Yeah, it's a ritual at this point. Likes to joke that MC is actually his illegitimate child. He also invites them to his vlogs, taking MC out at 2 am to Wendy's and talk about the most random stuff. Maybe hint at new things that are upcoming on the show. He writes TSL, not Alex [ Simeon ], so MC will help him with plot and point out any plot holes as well. 

        "MC, hon, take a nap. You're tired and haven't slept well. I got you food too- no, not Wendy's, actual food. Eat that and go sleep, alright?"

Beelzebub / James

        This can be another contender for a romantic relationship! James [ Beelzebub ] is one of the few actors who is pretty similar to their character, so if you love Beelzebub, you love James, sorry I don't make the rules. It's law. He is still new to the acting scene, so unless MC was an actor as a child as well, they'd bounce tips off one another- things they learn from whoever takes them under their wings. In MC's case, Benjamin [ Lucifer ] is their mentor, and in James' case, Alex [ Simeon ] is his mentor.

        He's very thoughtful, understanding, and compassionate. But, he is a bit of an airhead at times, or he often gets lost in his own head. This is due to him trying to think things through, he gets anxious and wants to perform well in every aspect of his life, so he tends to overthink and try to fix his problems in his head. MC will help him with opening up and stilling his mind into calmer waters. He feels the weight of his family, seeing as he now makes the most, he feels like he should be taking care of all of them- even when they tell him to just enjoy his life as it is. MC would realize he's a family man, so this would be another relationship where commitment is expected, James would rather not just have something casual due to how hectic things in his life get. He also is often with Dmitri [ Luke ], watching him and making sure he's okay, because if his younger siblings were in the same situation, he'd want someone to look out for them too. Dmitri is in love with both MC and James, often messing around or just relaxing with them of Ross [ Satan ] isn't around, so their often known as the "Realm Trio" due to their characters each being a different race.

        "I'm fine, really! I was just... thinking, that's all. I'm happy, really I am, and I want everyone else to be as well. That's it."

Belphegor / Conner 

        MC definitely becomes more chaotic with Conner, he's a sweetheart, but damn can he not sit the fuck down. He can be a bit draining for MC if they aren't in the best of moods, and even then, he just holds this light that makes them happy or feel peaceful. Another romantic/platonic relationship that can happen. This is a relationship where no matter how old they get, what is going on in life, how overwhelmed they feel, MC and Conner [ Belphegor ] will always manage to laugh.

        He is clumsy, especially with the tail, so MC will worry over him on and off set. He is very humble, and grateful for every opportunity he gets, so he faces each day with a smile and the classic southern hospitality- where you say thank you after everything, help anyone even if they aren't struggling, all with a southern drawl that makes MC melt. This is the healthiest relationship to exist, due to how easy Conner can communicate with MC and how MC can pick up on things he might not, there isn't any big issues because they both can just talk it out. Even if it doesn't end up romantic- it's still one of the most fulfilling relationships MC and Conner will have due to just being... them.

        "It's so easy, being with you, and I love that. Loving you is never painful, never tough on me, it's always so... light. So perfect, like you."

Barbatos / Thomas

        Oh my god. He is an absolute ass. He is like the uncle you never wanted, always sarcastic, roasting someone, but in the end he means no harm. MC and him definitely have a darker sense of humor together, getting either morbid or just downright weird, and no one else can decipher that the fuck they're saying because there's too many inside jokes and little intricacies. In the end, he is a ride or die, may not be the best to work with- but MC is now family and Thomas [ Barbatos ] will now kill for them. Congratulations on the achievement!

        Will not allow MC to go to openings or any large events alone, and even if they have another cast member with them, he still keeps an eye on them. He gets anxious, and almost paranoid, his younger sister went missing years ago and never got closure. He see's MC not as his missing sister, but as someone who is in need of that older brother figure, and wants to take that role because it feels so natural. He still ends up as that cool asshole uncle, but he likes that too, as long as MC is with him. There are times where MC will need to help him through some issues, just by being a shoulder to lean on, and in turn they get closer. Thomas didn't expect to get close with many people on the cast, other than his old friends, and taking MC into his family was a surprised for all.

        "Come here, ya annoying ass little kid, give me a hug! What! Come here or I'll chase you around his big ass house, MC!"

Diavolo / Roman 

        MC can be the romantic partner for Roman if you'd like, but I just remembered that I made him have triplets, so unless MC is his partner and willing to have kids, Roman would end up as another Uncle/Father figure. If you go the romantic route, Roman is so deeply in love with MC he will sometimes feel empty of he doesn't tell them he loves them everyday. He is attentive, watchful, and optimistic, always bringing fun into the relationship and making MC feel fulfilled and overflowing with love. But, now with the triplets? Love bomb x10, he loves MC with all his soul, he does, but now he realizes the kids come first and appreciates that they do the same. Prefers to be more private though, won't post whatever he does with the kids or anything like that, he doesn't want spotlights on his children when they never asked for it.

        A more platonic/familial relationship though? Best. Man. Ever. Always taking MC out to eat and keeping up with their needs, doesn't baby them, just keeps a watchful and caring eye. Does this with all the younger cast as well. MC will feel loved, safe, and in harmony. He is a wine dad though, so MC will often bring him drinks so he can unwind, even make cocktails time to time just for practice and will make sure to give any tips he can. MC gets a little too tipsy at a party? Well, since he knows where the party is, shoot him a call and he'll pick his 6'5 ass up outta bed to bring MC either to their home or his. 

        "I've got you, always have, always will. I won't ever let you down, because you deserve the world and all the happiness in it, I just hope I can even be a little piece of it. A reason to make you happy."

Luke / Dmitri

        MC is close with Dmitri no matter what, he's always on set, and MC can't seem to let him leave their sight. Kinda like a parent at the park. Won't exactly just stare at their kid, but will always know where they are, and make sure their within a safe distance. Hollywood is full of some sick fucks and MC will be damned if they'd let anything happen to Dmitri. He gets overwhelmed sometimes, will cry and shake, due to holding in stress from the public. MC will teach him how to cook, rather than bake, because food always brings people together and he wants his family to be together in any way he can do it. 

        Spending time with him means spending time with Ross [ Satan ], so MC ends up close with Ross anyway, and will often be filling up Dmitri's Instagram and other social medias. He is the younger brother MC never had and is ready to be another older sibling for him. If the show goes on for multiple seasons, then it will be set in stone, MC and Luke will be a found family along with the rest of the cast.

        "Thank you for everything, MC. I love you, really, and I want you to be as happy as you can be! You're the best and more!"

Simeon / Alex

        Alex [ Simeon ] is another potential love interest/ close friend. This is the only other relationship that can compete with Ross [ Satan ] and Roman [ Diavolo ]. He is known for his temper, but usually plays it up for comedy, and will never actually "blow up" on anyone that isn't deserving of it. He is a sweetheart, but has a tendency to be materialistic, due to his rich upbringing. He knows material things aren't the answer, but it's a habit/mentality he's working on fixing. He prefers to be more affectionate in private, because he wants to enjoy intimacy with MC without the eyes of the public on them, not because he would want to hide their relationship. 

        He is intelligent as fuck, so MC will be filled with the knowledge of the gods, always learning something new and living a student life that isn't more of a student- but someone that has a love for learning. You know Leonardo in Ikevamp? Yeah- that bitch. That's Alex. Even as a friend MC and Alex would always confuse people due to how close they are, which can be annoying if they are with another cast member, but in the end they know the truth.

        "Ah fuck, MC, I'm trying to cook here, ya dork! Don't yank me around the kitchen! Hey! Loving me isn't an excuse to squeeze the life outta me! MC! Don't run now!"

Solomon / Derek

        So, I honestly had Derek [ Solomon ] as the original love interest, going with the childhood friend trope. MC and Derek would be the ultimate set of goals, and living a fantasy life that most people dream of, the thing you'd see if those overly fluffy fan-fictions. Derek is the more caring and nurturing of the two, while MC is more outgoing and aggressive, and manage to find a happy medium between them. Derek has a calming aura around him and yet is the most socially awkward one in the cast- he will put Leviathan's character to shame with some of the things happened in the past. MC is the biggest tease and will have him flushing like a virgin school boy- and it isn't even sexual, he just flusters easily.

        With Lovely and Blue, MC and Derek are known as the babysitters and pet sitters, and are often looking out for the casts pets and children whenever they need it. The couple everyone wants to end up like. You will never see them in scandals, drama, or anything of the sort- even if they become household names, Derek and MC prefer to keep the details of their lives lowkey. I can't see major issues in this relationship, romantic or platonic, because after knowing each other so long, they can communicate in their own ways.

        "Blue, stay stiiiiiiiiill. Fine, leave. MC, come here, I need a pillow and Blue won't love me. Thank you- oh! Now you come, Blue? Jealous much?"

[neon-junkie]

The Last of his Kind - Chpt.1

Summary: A handsome young man approaches you at the bar after catching you checking him out. Names are exchanged and drinks are downed, and you seem to have fallen for him a lot harder than you realize.

Pairing: Jack Marston x f!Reader

Word Count: 3941

Rating: SFW

Tags: Post-RDR1, Saloon, Drinking, Flirting, Slow burn, Strangers to lovers, Gambling, First dates.

Notes:  finally, some Jack Marston content, because this man deserves some love!!!!!!!!! to clarify, this is set after RDR1 and the epilogue, so Jack has already killed Ross and is now just trying to move on with his life.

To everybody's surprise, you'd done it. You'd managed to move out of your parents' house and buy a small home on the edge of Blackwater, with a chicken coop and a tiny garden around the back of the house. It's homely enough, perfectly decorated and surprisingly warm, even in the winter. The fireplace provides more than enough heat to keep your one-room house cozy, and you always get that wholesome feeling in your chest as you sit against the window, watching the snowfall with a hot beverage in your hands. It was nice to be able to work in the town that you live in, your place of work being less than five minutes away, and sometimes you like to shake up your morning commute and walk along the docks, overlooking the water and the land in the distance. The view is beautiful during the day but even more so at night, as an array of lights dance along the horizon. You'd heard about a city across that lake called Saint Denis, and although people have told you time and time again that it's huge, you can tell from how far across those lights go, as well as how bright they are. Maybe you'll visit that place one day. The furthest you'd ever traveled was up to Strawberry, only because your parents live there, and down south was a complete mystery to you. You're aware of that place called Thieves Landing, and you dare not to travel south because you fear that everywhere else will be as chaotic as that place.

Your closest friend and co-worker, Belle, had told you that the land down south was actually quite nice. Well, the scenery was, but Armadillo was almost always riddled with some sort of plague, and the other town down there was completely abandoned. The name slips your mind, but it's no matter as you'll never head down there. She's been to Thieves Landing many times for gambling trips and has egged you on to come with her one day, but you worry that it'll be your unlucky day and you'll end up in some sort of mess, so better safe than sorry. Instead, Belle likes to play her games at the Blackwater Saloon whilst you mingle and relax. She's tried to teach you before but there are so many cards and so many rules. You've gone this far in your life without getting addicted to a fun way of losing money, and you're happy to continue living your life without it. And that's where you are now, sitting at one of the tables with Belle, having a rant about some customer you served today who has his own nose way too far up his ass. A few drinks have been shared between the two of you and you can tell from the way Belle keeps looking at the Blackjack table that she wants a game sooner or later. Blackjack was the only game you knew how to play, only because the dealer does all the work, though you'd still rather save your money, even if luck tended to be on your side and you'd exit the game with a small profit. "Shame I was in the back when it happened," Belle tells you after you've finished laying out what happened to her. "What would you have done? Barked at him?" you say with a laugh. "I would have!" Belle says proudly, then lets out a bark, a surprisingly realistic one that catches the attention of a suited man at the table next to you. He pulls an odd face but turns his attention away as the two of you laugh. The town knows by now that the pair of you are a little odd, but times are changing and women seem to be asserting themselves more and more every day. Just last week, you saw a woman dragging out her husband after she'd caught him chatting to a woman at the Saloon. Normally, men would step in and try to defend the husband, saying the woman clearly wasn't 'doing her job' as a wife. But a bunch of men had stepped in and told the man off for being unfaithful. You're welcome to this change, and although there's no man in your life right now, you hope that he'll be a kind and gentle soul. Well, you wouldn't marry anybody who isn't, though you'll always have that worry of marrying a man who lets himself go the second the wedding rings are on. Let's hope things are different for you. Belle snaps you out of your daydream as she perks up again. "Ugh," she says as she rolls her eyes. "Another cowboy. I thought they had died out. He must be a wannabe, though I'm unsure why anybody would want that life." You're about to ask who she's on about but your eyes drift over to the bar, fixating on the stranger leaning against it. He's tall with sun-kissed skin, his cheeks a little rosy as he's just walked in from the hot evening outside. For a cowboy, he's clearly got good hygiene, as his hair falls nicely against his shoulders, his facial hair is neatly trimmed, and his clothes are perfectly clean. Maybe he's just trying to look the part but is a little too soft for the lifestyle? Either way, he looks young, maybe around his early twenties. The way his brows naturally furrow brings a soft smile to your face, as he's clearly trying to look a bit tough but he's quite adorable instead. "I'll give him credit, he is handsome," you tell Belle as your eyes stay locked onto him. "He's probably the only handsome cowboy to ever exist then. They're all so dirty and smelly," Belle shakes her hair. She's clearly not had a proper look at him, though you're thankful as you're definitely calling dibs on this one. "He doesn't look it," you tell her, your eyes briefly flicking over to her. "He's only just walked in and you're already planning the wedding, aren't you?" Belle says with a laugh. Belle's laughter has caught his attention, as he looks over to your table, his eyes locking onto yours. You gulp and quickly look away, giving Belle a small kick under the table to stop her from laughing. "What?" Belle asks. "Your laughter's caught his attention," you tell her, your eyes wide and glued to her. Belle looks over at the bar and grins as she looks back at you. "My laughter may have caught his attention, but his eyes are definitely fixed on you, sugar," she chuckles. You can't help but peek over at him once more, instantly looking away as you realize that yes, he's staring directly at you. You see his head move and check again, letting out a sigh of relief as he's now turned his focus to the bartender as he orders a drink. "What perfect timing. There's finally a space at the Blackjack table, meaning you'll be left on your own, looking all pretty and available," Belle says with a chuckle as she stands. "Belle, don't do this," you sigh. "He's just a boy. This ain't the first time you've chatted up a stranger at the bar," Belle replies. "They were different! Well, this is different. He just seems... you know," you attempt to explain. "You've caught feelings already. I understand." You're about to jump on the defensive and say you haven't, but Belle cuts you off as she hands you some change. "How about you go get a drink for yourself and if things go south, get one for me too and use me as your escape route, alright?" A long sigh escapes your lips before you respond with "fine." You stand up also, Belle flashing you a smile before she turns and heads to the Blackjack table. As you walk over to the bar, you count through her change, checking to see how much she gave you but to also prevent your eyes from awkwardly catching the strangers. He's stood at one end at the bar, yourself at the other. The bartender serves you your drink and the leftover change is put into your pocket. After taking a sip of your drink, your look out the corner of your eye at the stranger, noting the way his head quickly turns. He was definitely staring at you again, but you're just as guilty as you're now staring at him. The sight of a pair of guns on his hips tells you that what Belle said was true, that he's definitely a cowboy, or whatever they now call themselves. The gunbelt he wears is worn down and you assume it's been passed down to him, meaning at least one of his parents lived the same lifestyle. "Something catch your eye, Miss?" somebody asks. You shake your head a little as your eyes trail up his body and oh shit, he's speaking to you. "What?" you blurt out, the panicked expression on your face making him softly laugh. "I said, has something caught your eye, Miss?" he asks again, a lot slower and clearer this time. You suddenly realize how awkward you must have looked, staring down at his gunbelt, though he may have thought you were staring at something else instead. "Oh, I was... admiring your gunbelt," you honestly tell him, though it sounds odd saying it out loud. "My gunbelt?" he double checks with you. "Yeah... it looks well worn," you tell him as if he doesn't already know. "It is. Was my Pa's," he tells you, his eyes briefly flicking down to the piece of equipment. "Was that really what you were staring at?" he asks you with a soft smile as he looks back up and draws his focus back to you. "Yes!" you say with a nod. "I promise." "Heh, sure," he laughs again. "I ain't ever had a woman check me out before," the stranger tells you as he bridges the gap on the bar, taking the few steps over to you and leaning against it. His body is turned mostly towards you, but his elbow rests on the bar top. He crosses one ankle over the other, his spurs clinking as they move, sending a shiver down your spine. You've heard many stories about true cowboys and you've seen the odd wannabe or bandit, but something felt authentic about this stranger. "I promise you, I wasn't being perverted," you explain. "I don't view checking somebody out as perverted. You're only admirin' them, no harm can come from that," he says with a shrug. "But I can see how flustered the thought is making you, so how's about I buy you a drink to settle your nerves?" the stranger offers. He adds on a "sweetheart" at the end, the sound of that petname coming from his voice draws you to him even more, and you find yourself agreeing to his offer in a heartbeat. He's polite when he orders, using his manners and checking with you on what you'd like. You finish up the drink you currently have as he pays for your next one. Either you didn't hear, or he snuck this in as you were occupied with downing your drink, but he orders a shot on the side. At least he ordered gin, as despite it still burning, it doesn't burn as much as whiskey does or leave that awful feeling in your throat. "Thank you," you say as he slides your drink over to you, followed by the shot. "May I know your name?" you ask him. "Marston. Jack Marston," he tells you as his attention focuses back on you, the bartender moving away to serve somebody else. "And yours?" "___," you tell him. "Pretty name for a pretty woman," he says with a smile as he picks up his shot. You can't help but shake your head a little at the cheesy comment, but you pick up your shot and clink it against his glass, both of you necking the burning liquid. There's that nasty feeling in your throat, trailing down and settling in your stomach. You lightly cough, placing the empty glass on the bar top and taking a well-needed sip of your drink. Jack doesn't seem phased, taking a much smaller sip of his drink and licking his lips, probably savoring the taste. "You alright?" he asks. "I don't often drink liquor neat," you explain, letting out a small cough and chugging some more of your drink. "I'll get the next round," you tell him, deciding that shots are definitely off the table. "We're doing rounds? I can't take money off you, sweetheart," Jack informs you. "But you can take drinks off me instead," you correct him. "Alright. If you insist," he says with a smile, shaking his head at you. "So," Jack begins after having another swig. "I noticed your friend went straight over to that Blackjack table. You not much of a gambler then?" he questions. "Oh, Belle? Yeah, she loves it. I just can't wrap my head around it, apart from Blackjack because I'm not doing any of the work," you shrug. "I could teach you sometime? Card games just kinda click without you even realisin'," Jack replies, shifting more of his weight against the bar as he relaxes against it. "She's tried to teach me so many times and I just can't figure it out," you say with a soft laugh. "She's tried to take me down to Thieves Landing many times, saying I'll definitely win there as apparently they're a bunch of morons, but I just don't trust a place with a name like that." "I don't blame you," Jack nods in agreement. "But the folk down there are nice, despite the name. It's more of a lawless place but the area has its own morals and codes." "I dunno," you drawl, nervously fiddling with your drink. "Trust me, it's alright. Maybe you'll head down there one day and bump into me," Jack tells you. "Do you visit it often?" "I'd say I'm a regular there, yeah. I tend to visit a lot of places down south," Jack replies before taking another sip of his drink, finishing the bourbon off. "What're they like?" you question. "I've only been up north to Strawberry as my parents live there." "I haven't been Strawberry since I was a kid..." Jack pauses. He's clearly having a flashback moment, though his attention quickly turns back to you. "Down south is alright. There's the occasional bandit that you bump into on the roads, but the town folk are kind." "Occasional bandit?" you question with a concerning laugh. "You make it sound so inviting." "Well, down there is 'uncivilized', or at least that's what rich folk describe it as," Jack explains. "And what would you say?" you question, finishing off the rest of your drink. "Me? I'd just say it's a different part of the land," he shrugs again as he gives the bartender a wave, who nods in return to indicate he'll be right over. Jack turns his attention back to you. "But if you ever want me to take you down there, I'll keep you safe," he says with a wink. "Ain't you a bit young to be tryna keep me safe? 'Specially from bandits?" you tease. "I may be young but I know how to work a gun," Jack informs you. "It's in my blood," he adds on. You're unsure on what exactly he means with that last comment, but you decide not to press into it. Thankfully, the bartender comes over to serve you and you buy the next round, without any shots this time. Your stomach has barely settled down from that gin, and your body feels sickly enough from being chatted up by this handsome stranger. The drinks go down quicker than you realize. Jack seems well-composed, though he's beginning to slur a few of his words and stumble whenever he excuses himself to the restroom. You, on the other hand, are struggling to keep yourself sober-looking. This stranger has scrambled your nerves and you've fallen into the liquor for comfort, and now you're having to deal with the outcome. You stumble back into the Saloon after taking a leak. Jack is still at the bar, leaning against it as he swirls the booze in his drink, fiddling with something to pass the time. Belle had found you moments ago to inform you that she was heading home, giving you a nudge and wink as she tells you that you look very happy with this handsome stranger and that she assumed you wouldn't be needed her back up plan. You'd said goodnight to her after insisting that you weren't just going to take this one home, that something about him feels different and you want to see where it takes you. Jack flashes you a smile as he notices you approaching, trying not to laugh as you narrowly miss stumbling into a stranger. "You alright?" Jack asks as you. You're about to reply that you're just fine, but as you go to lean against the bar, you stumble over your own feet and almost fall flat on your bum. Jack's reaction times are still immaculate, even whilst tipsy, as he manages to catch you before you can hit the floor. Your eyes lock onto his as you realize the pickle you've gotten yourself into, and both your expressions turn nervous once you notice how close your faces are. Jack helps pull you up to your feet, though an arm remains around your waist, your hand resting on his shoulder to keep yourself up. "I'm gonna take that as a 'no'," Jack tells you. "What? Oh! I'm fine, trust me. Just a little tipsy," you reassure him with an embarrassed laugh. "I think you mean 'drunk'," he says as he shakes his head. "Maybe I should get you home?" Jack suggests. "You don't have to walk me back," you tell him, but Jack quickly shakes his head and waves his hand, dismissing your claim. "Not only is it the right thing to do, but I doubt you'll make it home on your own," Jack comments, concerned for your safety, not just from strangers, but from the liquor in your system. "If you insist," you shrug, taking up his offer. "I very much do." Jack gently removes his arm from around your waist, only to offer you his arm instead. You link your arm through his, your other hand holding onto his upper arm as he walks you through the Saloon. As you exit the building, you notice your reflection in the large windows, and your stomach begins to spin at the sight. You quite like the look of yourself and this handsome young man, a curious duo but you fit together like two pieces of a very odd puzzle. Is it wrong to already take a liking to him? Especially when you only met him a few hours ago? You'd heard about 'love at first sight' and all those other cheesy terms from the books you read, but maybe they write about those things for a reason. You're snapped out of your daydream as Jack makes a clicking noise with his tongue. The sound of hooves clopping against the stone floor makes you snap your head over your shoulder, noticing that one of the horses that was hitched outside the front of the Saloon is now following closely behind. "I assume she's yours?" you ask him. "She is," Jack confirms as he leans his other hand out to loosely hold onto her reigns, leading his horse as well as leading you. "So, you don't live in town?" "I don't," Jack tells you. "I live on a ranch in the Great Plains," he informs you, tilting his head down slightly to look at you. "A ranch? That must be hard work," you let out a sigh. "It.. erm... Yeah, it can be. There ain't really many animals there anymore. It's hard to run a ranch by yourself," Jack replies and you notice the darkened tone to his voice. "I won't ask," you tell him, not wanting to pry into his private life. "I'll tell you about it someday," Jack tells you. He catches your eyes and gives you a smile, reassuring you that you haven't accidentally stumbled into anything too personal. "So, who's this lady then?" you comment as you peer over at his horse. "Oh, I just call her nag," he shrugs. "You haven't named her?" you say with a slight laugh. Maybe he'd only brought her recently, but from the way she's sticking beside him and loyally following, you assume otherwise. "Yeah. I ain't really sure why, I just haven't," he tells you. "Well, we've gotta name her!" "We?" Jack questions. "So, you want to see me again?" he says with a smirk and a flirtatious tone to his voice, making you softly laugh. "If you'll let me," you flirt back. "Of course I'll let you, sweetheart. How about I take you out some time?" Jack questions, coming to a halt outside your house. "I'd love that. You know, there's a nice Bistro in town that I've been wanting to try out. We could go there?" you suggest. Your arm slips from Jacks as you talk, standing in front of him instead. You can't help but reach out and gently stroke his mount's nose, picking up on how well-groomed she is. "Sure. When are you free?" Jack questions, watching you pet his horse. He can't help but smile at the sight, his nag warming up to you quickly. "Wednesday?" you suggest, giving you two days to mentally and physically prepare yourself. "Wednesday it is," Jack says with a nod, his eyes trailing back to yours. There's a slight pause as you move your attention back to Jack. You try not to smile too much but you can't help it; this handsome young stranger is making you feel a hundred things at once, but he seems the same, flashing you a smile in return. "Thank you for walking me home," you comment. "It's no problem. Now, you should get yourself inside before you stumble over something else," Jack teases, enjoying the way your cheeks turn red. "Alright," you say as you roll your eyes, walking up the steps to your porch. "Does 5 sound good? for Wednesday?" you ask as you turn back to him. "5 is good. I'll come by here," he says with a nod as he climbs up onto his nag, shuffling about in the saddle until he's uncomfortable. "Now go on, Miss. Get yourself to bed," Jack tells you. "I will. Goodnight, Jack," you say with a smile. "Goodnight, darlin'," Jack says as he tips his hat at you. He taps his spurs against his mount's stomach, his horse slowly trotting away. Jack's eyes remain on you until you enter your home, ensuring you're safe inside. Once inside, you lock the door and lean back against it, holding your chest like a cheesy girl who's fallen in love. You can't help but smile, though you think you're only swaying about because you're still tipsy, but who knows? You get ready for bed, Jack staying on your mind the whole time. It's incredible how one person has made you feel this way in such a short amount of time, though the nerves of your date have already begun to sink in. Hopefully, the date will be just as good as tonight, maybe even better. But you have tomorrow's shift to get through first.

[redhawtriot]

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

I am posting at not my normal time at ALL, but I really wanted to get this chapter out so I can work on my favorite chapter so far lol (month five is boutta be LIT) if the tags aren’t working i’ll fix them tomorrow they are acting weird rn. 

Thx, for the patience. Love y'all

extra chapter warning: sexual harassment, nsfw..ish

HnM 💕

Month 1, Month 2, Month 4

--MONTH 3--

It was a Friday night about two months ago when Katsuki Bakugou had found himself on the second floor of Club 52—or “the booty room”—as it’s so brusquely known.

But he sure as hell didn’t fucking belong here-- Surrounded by drunken idiots when he had to stay alert and keep his mind sharp-- groped on by inebriated/drugged up women who he would simply growl at in return-- drenched in the germy sweat of the fucking extras around him when he could be at home in his clean bed thinking about how to improve himself tomorrow.

Honestly. How in the flying fuck did he let those three walking hairstyles talk him into coming to this shit show?

The driving beat of the music dancing within his chest was his only saving grace, its constant booming throwing him into a state of familiar comfort as he watched the colorful lights burst around him. He had to admit… they were nice…

No!

Fuck that! He still didn’t belong here, dammit! His roommates, Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest, had all three nagged, and nagged, and nagged him to come here the entire week.

At their begging, Bakugou quite frankly wished that he had lost even more of his hearing than he already had from his quirk. Maybe he could find one of his old drumsticks and jam it into his head—or up those idiots’ asses, “Ahh! I’LL GO! JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” It was the only way to keep him from losing his job as a hero and committing a triple homicide. 

So yeah, that’s how he ended up in the booty room—and he wasn’t gonna gratify those damn idiots for even a second by enjoying just an ounce of the hellscape.  

“You’re not drinking, huh?”

A sudden inquiry snapped the man out of his thoughts, and he found himself whipping his head around to face the feminine voice that had cut through the loud room. As soon as his eyes encountered yours, Bakugou felt his jaw drop slightly at the sight.

But then he quickly noticed the way that your eyes flickered down to his mouth, and the mocking way that your lips began curving up into a smirk at his display. He wanted to kiss knock that smug look clean off your pretty face. He immediately clenched his jaw back shut and hardened his traitor of an expression so that no more slip-ups could be had.

The two of you sized each other up for a moment before you slickly glanced over your shoulder with a nod, “So I am guessing those belong to you, then?” you motioned toward Mayonnaise, Ketchup and Mustard—all three of Bakugou’s roommate idiots making a theatrical, display in the middle of the dance floor.

Kirishima—who had long taken his shirt off by this point-- noticed Bakugou’s disapproving gaze and attempted a wave back, only to lean into a drunken stumble.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, snapping his regard from the (flat out embarrassing) show “I’m not anyone’s damn babysitter. They’re grown men. They can fucking handle themselves!”

“Good… I’d like to have you to myself for a while,” you turned to the bar-tending counter and beckoned for two drinks.

Bakugou eyed how the man behind the counter ingested you. He was a lion looking for his prey’s weakness and you didn’t even seem to notice—or care. He glared at the man, subconsciously taking a step toward you to speak as the bartender handed you your drink, “For what?” Bakugou asked you flatly. He didn’t even know why the hell he was entertaining this.

You simply shrugged, throwing your eyes up as innocently as you could with the contrarily wicked smirk that befell your face, “To… talk.”

“Yeah right. You’ve got some freak look in your eye. You want something else.”

“Well, hell yeah! Have you seen yourself?” you laughed and Bakugou couldn’t tell whether the stutter in his chest was from your utter bluntness, or from the melody of your happiness, “Anyway, I wont waste your time—or mine. Come find me if you want to…” you trailed off as you handed him the second drink in your hands. You had to bite your lip from smiling too hard, “…Talk. Ba-Bye~.”

As soon as you were the short ear distance away and faded into the dense crowd, the bartender gave a low whistle, “She was fucking fit as hell. God, the things I would do to her!” Bakugou felt his face twitch suddenly as the man continued his rant, “She’d never be able to walk that pretty little walk ever again. Yo, let’s hope she’ll still be here by the time I get off!” he chuckled but Bakugou didn’t see any thing fucking funny about what the bastard said. He might live in what is effectively a hero’s version of a frat house, but still, he never understood “locker room talk.”

Bakugou angrily downed the entire drink in his tight grip in one long pull before slamming it back onto the counter forcefully. His red eyes burned holes through the bartender’s fearful ones—the cup breaking apart under his palm, “She won’t be. Keep your dirty eyes off her, you bastard,” Bakugou didn’t even allow the man an opportunity to rebuttal as he stormed away, his fiery glare set intently on one thing only—or one person only…

That night Bakugou watched intently as the ceiling above him teetered and danced for a moment—sinking into the deep feeling of numbness that his intoxicated mind had succumbed to after about his fourth drink. He wasn’t exactly used to this feeling—this caving in on himself and sense of absolute relaxation as he melted into his bed.

Sinking.

              ...Sinking.

Wait, was his bed really sinking? His eyebrows furrowed into a state of confusion before he heard a sigh coming from next to him. Things finally clicked into place in his slowed mind.

Oh yeah. That’s right…

He would never get used to having someone else in his bed, probably.

Bakugou turned to where you were imprinting yourself down onto his mattress. You laughed at his stern expression, extending your arm to caress the side of his face, “God, your face is s’ intense like that. It gives me chills,” your thumb danced across the permanent furrow of his eyebrow. There had to be a magnet underneath his skin somewhere right about there that kept the brows in a constant state of attraction.

He snapped his face away from you as the magnet’s strength intensified and twisted his expression even deeper into anger, “Heh?” Goddamn, you were a fucking difficult girl to read for as blunt as you were.

You march up to him in the club like you own the damn place and send him heart eyes and flirtatious body signals, just to stone cold walk away like he never even existed? You proclaim that you want to fuck him, yet made him dance with you for almost an hour before you lead him out?? You let him fuck you in thirty different directions, just to call him out for looking “intense?!!” His friends (if you could fucking call them that) always said that he had an ugly mug, the jealous bastards, but why would a girl he slept with--

“You’re jus’ beautiful is all,” you faintly slurred, instantly hushing any of his thoughts and softening his expression, “People tell me all the time ‘You’re a pretty girl! You should smile more, but why th’ hell should I go around smilin’ for people who don’ deserve it? If they don’ like my resting state, then—”

“Then they can fuck themselves.”

“Yeah,” you looked up at him with a lazy smile. To a sober mind there was no doubt that your expression was an obviously drunken happiness, but to Bakugou’s in that moment—he couldn’t help but think that maybe there was something deeper behind that smile. You giggled, “They can fuck themselves,” you agreed more heartedly-- leaning into Bakugou and rolling him onto his back before snaking your way on top of him. You planted a trail of wet kisses up his neck and finished by making a small bite on his jaw “And maybe you can fuck me,”

Your warm breath on his sensitive neckline made him shiver underneath his skin, but he prayed that you couldn’t feel it. He scoffed to cover the pathetic display, “Again?”

You laughed before planting even more smiling kisses all over him—pressing your body even further into his with each one, “and again. and again. and again…”

“Pervert.” Bakugou tried to grab you by your hips to keep you from grinding into him even further—or at least that was what he intended to do; however, instead he ended up using them to guide your rhythm in rubbing against him.

You laughed again as you sat up on top of him and pressed your hands to his chest—your hips far from slowing down or stopping, “Maybe so, but can y’ really blame me? I have this guy in bed with me who isn’t even tryin’ to make me smile, but I have been fucking cheesin’ it up all night with ‘em.”

Bakugou didn’t even try to fight the growing smile on his face. It really was damn corny and pathetic--whatever this was between the two of you. But it felt so… so fucking right to him.

Still, he was going to tease you-- otherwise he wouldn't be him, “Well, I have this girl in bed with me who won’t stop smiling and it’s really fucking starting to creep me the hell out,” he suddenly flipped you onto the bed and mounted himself on top of you before placing his own assault of kisses on your body. His face only reemerging to take in your stupid, corny, beautiful smile for a long second. 

You were absolutely stunning in every respect of the word.

Yet--

Two months later, the same face that now stood in front of him on the platform of the train station was far from smiling—honestly neither was he. He was pissed the hell off. You didn’t even recognize him until just now?? Was he really so fucking immemorable?

You backed away from the man who had just saved you from falling to the tracks. You took him in one final time as the two of you sized each other up, “I don’t even know what to start…”

Bakugou’s face contorted in such anger that it could have been mistaken for disgust, “How about you start by giving me some fucking answers!” he screamed, causing your heart to drop and your stomach to lurch. The two organs effectively were trying to switch places.

Oh fuck. He knew?

“T-to what…?” You trailed off, but you had a feeling what he was going to say next. He was gonna chew you out about the damn parasite growing in your uterus, but you had no idea how he could have known about that! He shouldn't know that!

Deku didn’t tell... He didn’t! ...Did he?? Your heart raced and assaulted your rib-cage with an armada of thrums.

“Why did you sneak out that morning, huh!?” as soon as the words flew out of his mouth, you paused—your mind not quite able to comprehend his grievance, “I was just some sex toy for you? That it??” When he finished yelling and glared at you with expectancy burning within his red irises, you found yourself tilting your head a bit in astonishment and confusion.

Your heart had dropped, but you couldn't tell if it was from relief or repugnance. 

That? That was the question he needed answers to?

In the grand scheme of the fuckery on hand, his damaged ego was literally not your problem. You crossed your arms as you stretched your neck toward him, “Because it was supposed to be a club hump and dump! So yeah! We were just sex toys! That was kinda the whole fucking point!” Note the fucking emphasis on ‘supposed to be’! Ugh!

A tinge of underlying hurt quickly flashed across the blond’s stern face. You gave a short, sharp sigh in exasperation as you laid your forehead in one of your palms, “Look, I am not exactly here to cater to your wounded pride. Sorry that you caught feelings for me, but I wasn’t exactly obligated to fix you breakfast that day,” the tired, emotional remarks flew out much faster than you could filter them, but you still felt a twinge of remorse as soon as they hit the air.

The man in front of your face look completely stunned as if you just slapped him across the cheek with your words. It actually seemed pretty unnatural on his expression—like a rare, endangered species-- something not many have seen. Soon enough, however, as the dust of your words fell his expression settled back into a more natural state of fury, “You’re fucking right,” he grunted before turning to exit up the stairs of the subway, “I’m not obligated to listen to this horseshit either.”

Oh fuck. What have you done?

You knew that you had laid it on pretty thick, but the emotions you felt were just so damn overwhelming, “Kacchan… I…!” Why couldn’t you have said something different? Nicer maybe?

Whether you liked it or not, your lives were now tied together and this was not a good first impression—or uh-- second impression technically-- whatever! “I promise you’re gonna want to hear the end of this.” you called to his retreating form.

Bakugou’s face shriveled even further, stretching its extent of maximum disgust. Hearing that name come out of your mouth left his stomach feeling ill, “I promise you, I don’t give a fuck”

You slapped your arms at your side as you finally halted in your attempt to get him to stop walking away. Fuck it. You were about to completely call his bluff because you definitely weren’t about to chase him. You were much too tired and emotional for this shit! You just wanted to get home and sleep these random-ass, foreign emotions away, “I’m pregnant.” you simply exclaimed.

Bakugou froze.

In that moment, it was as if the entire world around him had iced over as he replayed your words in his head over and over again. He couldn't have heard you right, “What?” 

The man felt every fiber of his being stiffen. So much so that he couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and face you. In your silence was his answer loud and clear, “How… how the fuck do I know it’s mine?” he murmured, still unable to turn towards you—he didn’t want you to see the raw emotion that his face probably held in that moment.  

You barely even heard him, but the weight of his words was heavy enough to slam down on your ears and cause a burning reaction from you “What?!”

Your shriek finally prompted him to whip himself around, and you almost wish that he didn’t. The mangled mess of feelings transcribed on his face left his cheeks flushed a furious shade of red as he shouted at you,  “You like one-night stands so much—how do you know it’s mine?” With a horrified expression, you glanced around you for a moment to the other people in the subway, who immediately adverted their gazes.

“Hell, You’ve been hanging around that bastard, Deku. How do I know it’s not his?” You looked back to Bakugou with a choked ‘Wow!’ that could be interpreted as “Are you fucking kidding me right fucking now??” These strangers were getting one hell of a show, too.

You stormed up to him to keep him from shouting your all of your dirty laundry into the air, “Deku and I aren’t—” You stopped yourself. Would any fucking thing you said to this man make a difference? He didn’t know you from fucking Adam-- or from fucking Adam. You groaned in annoyance, “Look! I know that it’s yours because you're the only idiot I have slept with in months! An idiot who doesn’t know how to use a goddamn condom apparently!” you half whispered to him as your spectators began eyeing you again. You flipped them off as Bakugou continued,

“I’m the idiot?! Well if you could ACTUALLY FUCKING REMEMBER that night then you would know that we did use condoms the first three times! They ran out and you told me to keep going,” He screamed—by this point you’d given up hope of containing your melodrama as he continued loudly, “What idiot says that unless they are on birth control or something?!”

You throw your face in your hands with a shriek of a sigh before looking back up to his furious face “Here’s the deal,” you decided to completely ignore his comment, becoming tired of this theatrical display of emotions spewing from him,  “I can’t spontaneously conjure up some proof that this-- this thing is yours but I assure you it fucking is. But hey!! If you don’t want to stick around, I am not the type of person to make you. I can deal with this myself,” his face fell a bit as you swiftly turned yourself around to make your exit, but you didn’t make it far before you felt a heavy hand grab you by the wrist.

“Let’s say it is mine...,” Bakugou offered flatly, “You don’t think I can handle it” his daring tone left your mind whirling. This wast a fucking wrestling match or even one of his villain attacks! He continued, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna let my kid grow up without me. Give me your fucking number,” He easily snatched your phone from your front pocket with a slight protest coming from you, but ultimately, you really were tired as hell and just wanted this day to be over with al-fucking-ready. You sighed as he put his number in your phone—your mind briefly wandering why you didn’t put a password on the damn thing.

In a short instant, he shoved your device back to you and promptly turned on a heel. Only acknowledging you once more to tell you to “Stay off of the fucking train tracks,” before he stiffly marched away. Good riddance. 

You couldn’t even blame the spectators anymore. This was a mess. This was a downright, melodramatic, teen drama on CW disaster. This was… this was your life now.

Fuck…

“Oooh... no smiles today, huh?”

About a week later you found yourself walking up the stairs to a modern mansion with stupid windows for walls. A true sign of pretentiousness and obvious lack of shame. This house was a display for all to see... kinda like your argument with that Bakugou last week. 

You shook this thought out of your mind and put your ‘work cap’ back on. You were on your way to get some test shots in for the week with your new hair cut that the agency had forced on you recently.

Instead of throwing her a “What’s there to smile for?” like you wanted to, you threw her a “This better?” and forced a small smile at the girl, Dina, who had traveled along with you to get her test shots done today as well. Usually for these kinds of things, you would be alone as you traveled to the photographer’s house, but it was always nice to have someone come with you so you weren’t complaining—well-- not about her company at least.

There truly was nothing to smile for recently. You were pregnant with a raging, quirkcist asshole’s child, said asshole won’t answer any of your damn texts or calls that aren’t directly related to the prenatal appointment that you two have later today, Deku hasn’t been able to hang out with you as much because of his work, and as trivial as this may seem, you looked in the mirror today to saw a completely different person.

You were quite used to your agency drastically changing your hair, but that, along side the obvious rounding of your face and the speckles of hormone induced facial topography growing on your skin, led you to a slight identity crisis. The girl in the reflection was a sloppy second to who you used to be and you hated it-- you hated sharing this body.

“Trouble in paradise with Deku, Y/N?” her tone had a hint of worry in it as she rung on the doorbell to the modern house. You could only give her a slight shrug as the bell sung out,

“I’m fine. Really.” you lied. 

“Hello, hello!” The photographer’s voice loudly blared out before the door could even fully open to reveal him. He gave you a shocked glance, “What a pretty lady—pretty ladies!” he corrected as he stepped aside and invited you in with the swing of his arm. You rolled your eyes as he turned his back to walk through the house. He looked like the textbook definition of a douchebag. 

Fuck not judging a book by it’s cover. If it walks like a duck. Talks like a duck. Then it’s probably a misogynistic asshole who only got into photography to get away with his sick urge to take photos of unfamiliar women.

“Okay ladies, I just want to preface by saying that you can feel comfortable around me, alright? I think of all my models as a family,” Dina stiffened into a board as he came over and rested his hand on her hip. She forced her lips into a fine line that could resemble a smile as he firmly patted her, “This shouldn’t take too long-- only about five to six hours, ‘kay?”

Your face scrunched up, but you just wanted to get this day over with so you could go to that stupid appointment and wouldn’t have to deal with “Cockugou” for another few weeks. Throughout the next few hours, the photographer actually wasn’t too bad. He was for sure creepy, but you noticed that he wasn’t so bold with you as he had been with Dina earlier. Of course there were little off hand comments like, “You are doing sexy.” instead of “you are doing great.” And he would refer to both you and Dina as “baby” is a husky, drawn out tone—like he was moaning, but besides that he was actually being pretty calm.

Until he wasn’t.

“Okay! Now take your tops and bra off,” both you and Dina paused as the camera flashed once more. As the two of you threw each other a wary glance the photographer spoke up again, “Trust me, I have a vision. You’re gonna love it!”

“I- I just don’t feel comfortable with that,” Dinah spoke up feebly. She looked to you for support, so you nodded before she returned her gaze to him, “Do you think… maybe we could do something else?”

The photographer sighed and threw his nose into pinched fingers as if you all had offended him, “Look honey, you’re not that photogenic. I am having to bust my ass off not to capture that cellulite on the back of your thighs, so when I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason.”

You glanced over to Dina with a horrified expression. You noticed that her hands were clenched at her sides and shook ever so slightly after she subconsciously rubbed the back of her thighs-- you also noticed a prominent thigh gap in between the two tiny appendages. You shot your stern glare back over to the photographer.

He sighed again—this time even harder than before, “Take five!” he frustratedly pulled out a box of cigarettes and stormed over to his patio outside—the glass door slamming shut behind him.

You walked over to Dinah and hesitantly found your hands drifting toward her. You were never really good at cheering people up. Hell, you had to rely on alcohol to cheer you up for the vast majority of you adult (and a little bit of your pre-adult) life. Still, you took her shaking hands in your own. “Hey. Don’t listen to that asshole. If you’re not comfortable...”

“I have done nude shots before, but this just feels… wrong. Doesn’t it?” she refused to look you in the eyes as hers glazed over in a thick sheet of shame. She was right. Nude shots were nothing new at all. In fact, some of your best shots had been done in the nude—they had the potential to be true art, but this? This was wrong.

She shook her head,“But I just… I don’t want to be unprofessional.”

“We can walk out right now. I’ll call Ainu and tell her what’s up I am sure she’ll understand,” as soon as you began walking to gather up some of your belongings, her voice spoke up once more—this time much colder than before,

“Maybe for you. Y/N, you could get away with murder at our agency-- you know that, right? You’re the one who bought Ainu her ticket to the top-- her golden child,” she sneered. You threw your eyes toward her own—not quite comprehending if this was the same person still talking to you.

It was, but this Dina had tears growing in her eyes, “Not everyone can half-ass everything and not care…” her voice shook. The two of you just stared at each other as wild emotions filled your expressions and overflowed into the room to drown you.

The patio door clicking open snapped you out of your trance and Dina furiously began wiping her eyes clean as the photographer reemerged, “Alright pretty ladies! Who’s ready to get back into things?”

You sighed.

With a quick roll of your eyes you angrily threw your top off—not even giving the girl with you a second glance as she did the same and the two of you settled yourself into position. The atmosphere was certainly much heavier than it had been before, but the photographer obviously couldn’t read the room,

“Y/N might I say, that your tits looks wonderful! Have you gotten a job recently? I mean- they look huge!”

Okay. 

That. Was. It. You couldn’t fucking hold it back anymore, “Talk about my tits again and I’ll stab you in the neck with your own goddamn tripod,” you kept posing as if you totally hadn’t just threatened someone’s life, but the photographer fell away from his camera, shock painted on his expression. Slacking on the job. Huh, who’s the unprofessional one now?

“…S-sweetheart I—”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me!” you screamed, storming up to point a finger in his face. This surge of random emotion overwhelmed you. You had never felt this before—like you were gonna explode if you didn’t unleash it. And unleash it, you did, “The fuck is your problem?! You get some kick outta being a perverted asshole, asshole?!”

Dinah tried to come pull you back by the shoulders, “Y/N, maybe you should just calm dow—”

“No! Fuck this bastard!!” you smack her hands away as the photographer gets up and crossed his arms,

“This is so unprofessional. You women always jump to conclusions. Why cant you ever just take the compliment?”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST TAKE MY FOOT UP YOUR--”

And that’s how you ended up getting sent home two hours early. You had attempted to call Deku to rant about the harsh encounter, but he was at work. You supposed that saving lives a a little bit more important than “The Dramatic Tale of a Quirkless Model” or whatever fucking CW show your life had become. Your mind briefly fleeted to calling Bakugou, but he certainly wouldn’t answer anyway. No. Fuck that.

So you decided to text Deku and cry into your pillow instead,

You:

[2:49pm]

I mean he was just such a fucking dick!

I should have actually stuck my foot up his ass but he for sure would have liked it🙄

Seriously. I don’t mind nude photos

But there is a difference between art/photography and porn

Deku:

Right!!

Well I’m glad you stood up for yourself!

You:

No! Don’t tell me tht!😫

Deku:

I am upset tha you stood up for yourself…?

You:

UGHHH

I just wish tht I had just walked out

But the other girl wouldn’t leave and I couldn’t leaver her their

There*

God

Ainu is gonna 💀me for this

Deku:

How can I help you?

I’ll find what I can on the photographer?

You:

Talk Kacchan into not going to our clinical visit.👉👈

You knew that Deku really wanted to go, and honestly you would really prefer if he did. Regardless, Deku stood up for his childhood bully like the saint he was,

Deku:

Y/N! He’s the father. he deserves to go, don’t you think?

Also!

Don’t forget Baby Notes vol 1! I wrote some questions for you to ask!

You stifled a small laugh as you eyed that stupid goddamn notebook he left on your nightstand one of the few days he stopped by your home.

You:

Grr

I can’t handle Cockugou’s moodiness right now

And I-- Oop!

Speak of the devil. He’s here.

Talk later k?💕kith!

You snatched the notebook from your nightstand and marched to your front entrance. The knocking at your door was downright disrespectful—constantly switching between pounding knocks on your door and vigorous successions of the doorbell ringing.

“Fucking. Calm. Down!” you screamed out the door before answering, revealing Bakugou’s stern gaze,

“What the hell took you so long?” he huffed, causing your face to scrunch up into an expression that mirrored his own. 

“I had to walk to the damn door, you know! I’m quirkless? No teleportation quirk here!” He only clicked his tongue at your response. You noticed the way his eyes drifted down to the notebook in your hands before they narrowed into even tighter slits.

“Let’s just fucking go, already,” he took your wrist and led you out of the house before shutting your door. You could really just knock him the hell out. Okay, maybe you couldn't, but your weak ass might just be able to get one good hit in! He deserved it, not replying to any of your attempts to reach out to him past talking about the appointment,

“Why didn’t you answer my texts all week?”

“I was busy.” he simply said, not even bothering to look you in the eye. This was the last time he spoke up for a long while. In fact, you didn't even hear his voice again until later when the two of you sat in the small, shoebox of a room in the clinic with the prenatal physician,

“This is your first appointment, right?” the doctor, was extremely old looking and your mind phased into a grim question of ‘how the hell can someone so close to death know jack about birth?’

You tried your best to push these dark thoughts out of your head as you gave him a slight answer, “Yeah…” you laid back on the crinkly paper covered recliner and lift your shirt a bit for the examination. You looked down at the small, hardly noticeable bump in your lower abdomen and internally cringed. 

“This is the father?” you knew that it didn't really matter, and that he was probably just trying to make you comfortable and spark up some small talk, but you rally didn't wanna hear it out loud. 

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Bakugou loudly spoke up, filling the absence of your voice, “Why the hell else would I be here, old man?” he scoffed and twisted his face away from everyone. 

You raised an eyebrow at his rudeness, but from the vast stories that Deku had told you about him, you shouldn't have been surprised. But still, it was like seeing a mythical creature in real life-- a grumpy troll under a bridge, if you will. 

The doctor gave a loud laugh at Bakugou’s remark, causing both you and him to snap your surprised gazed to the elderly man, “You’d be surprised at the shit I have seen, son. Someone brought their neighbor for the entire 39 weeks once-- the husband came in only once or twice, I think.”

You couldn't help but to laugh at this. Your doctor’s voice had a much more youthful demeanor than he had originally led on, “Oh, they were definitely fucking behind the husbands back,” you smirked.

“So Mama Bakugou,” 

And just like that your smile was completely wiped off of your face, “This is your first child right?” the doctor asked. You felt Bakugou throw you a fleeting expectant look. You assumed that it was probably because he hadn't even thought to ask you this question. The two of you really didn't know each other. Matter of a fact, this doctor, with your list of medical history in his hand, probably knew a lot more than the father of this ‘it’ inside of you. 

“L/N actually,” you corrected, “and yes, it is.” with that, Bakugou’s glare drifted back off into unconcerned and uncaring territory as he found a sudden interest in the glass container of gloves on the counter. 

“Well you look about 10 weeks along. They’ll be about the size of a strawberry right now-- almost done with your first trimester.” he trailed off as he began coating your stomach with some sticky jelly substance. 

“What??” you could have sworn that you had only met Bakugou about two months ago right? So does that mean...

“The date of conception would have actually been a little closer to about 7 or 8 weeks ago. We just count by the first day of your last period. No need to get worried about the neighbor, I don’t think, Papa Bakugou,” he winked to the blond, who only gave a scoff in return. You let out a slight sigh of relief. 

The recipe for the rest of this appointment as the doctor searched your organs for your uterus in the ultrasound included him making small talk and Bakugou ignoring it with you giving slight answers here and there,

However, finally, something really caught both of your’s attention, “I think that you guys should take time today to find your primary care physician,”

“Why not you, idiot?” Bakugou spoke up and it shocked you. You were surprised he cared about this out of everything. 

“I am thinking that I should send you to someone with a specialty in a multiple pregnancy birth.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you and Bakugou shared a brief, terrified glance at one another, “What...?” Bakugou spat.

“You see these two circles? It looks like you’ve got two buns in the oven! Congrats on the twins!,” 

T...wins...?

The world bean fading into a blur for you as he continued, “Now You are a little past getting the neural tube check, but we can get you started in on some genetic testing and counseling’s. Every thing is looking alright, but we just want to…”

The world around you moved in a blurry, choppy chain of images as your mind tried its best to comprehend the knowledge it had been given. So... not only were you carrying one parasite... but two?

You couldn't bring yourself to listen the rest of the appointment, and you had a feeling that Bakugou wasn't picking up on much else after the shocking news either. 

If you thought that commute to the hospital was quiet, the walk back to your apartment was even more so.

Taglist:  @steggy4ever​ @library-trash​ @watevermelon​ @glimmadora-ble​ @persephones24​ @dragonempress123​ @your-pri-ncess @broken-from-fandoms​ @hot-pocket01​ @tsukineho @bakugousbabydoll​ @bubbzibubbles @ikebukuro-ghoul​ @thehoneycookiecrumbs​ @katsukis-sad-angel​ @dulcetailurophile​ @yukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @kanasakura @lonekitsune @pastel-prynce​ @mynameispurple​ @cutest-celestial-princess​ @minfani​ @aurorahoneybuns​ @galacticrosee @orokayagi​ @centerhabit​ @animefan7420 @katsukisposts   @bakugou-is-my-daddy​

[yanderecandystore]

TUMBLR DIED BEFORE I COULD FINISH BUT imagine the collector unsuccessfully attempting time and time again to trap a ( albeit disguised ) god that turns out to either be much older/wiser or much stronger then he is. chaos ensues

Hey boo! Don't worry I got your ask. Tumblr can be so rude sometimes, all you need is your WiFi to drop one bar low and all that you have done is gone in an instant.

This may be a little different than what you expect, but I still hope you enjoy it!

TW/Tags: Smoll caos with a hint of potential fluff/angst (because I'm feeling soft, kay? 🥺) // God complex coming both sides, so there is a lot of sassiness // I think that for the sake of this headcanon, reader will be an humanoid-looking god // I'll give the reader the ability to choose which type of entity and title they have, but that may cause a little bit of disimmersion when it comes to reading, so yeah just an warning.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

This has nothing to do with the headcanon, but Papyrus is the best skeleton boy you'll ever meet [Yandere!Eldritch OC x God!Reader - Headcanon]:

So, I would imagine that your first encounter would be very, very interesting.

I'm gonna let you choose which type of god you're in this headcanon. Are you one of the greek gods? Perhaps an african god? One of the various entities in Asia? Or are you completely different from all of them? Are you a cosmic entity that just so happens to look like a human? It's up to you darling.

You, [Y/N], were simply walking around a garden you grew to appreciate. At first you thought that receiving this type of gift wasn't really needed, but having buildings built in your name and glory it's pretty flattering. A whole garden built in your image, the statues fit this place perfectly, the only thing missing is the shrine that the humans are currently building.

What a lovely day, right? Yet, the sound of something being pulled out of the ground with immense force made you realize that there was a newcomer to your garden.

Maybe you're familiar with the white masked creatures from the beyond, or may be not. Maybe you just see them as a strange monster that has started to… steal the trees in your garden? You can't tell whether to laugh or to take great offence to this ridiculous sight.

A being tall and grand as the sky above, stealing plants from your garden, but to what cause exactly? What is their gain? One can't help themselves but to be curious over such a fascinating sight.

Your approach to the situation is one of pure mischievous nature, but not letting your guard down, as you aren't so sure what this stranger is capable of doing just yet.

"- Well, hello." You try to take their attention out of your beautiful flowers. He wasn't picking one by one, he was taking the entire bush and… Consuming them? There is an immense amount of light every time he puts them behind his mask, what could be underneath that if not a face?

"- Oh! Greetings." He says turning his head to look at the direction of the voice, only to be met with a little human greeting him. He still doesn't seem to be really bothered by your presence, as he continues his activities as usual.

"- Gorgeous flowers right?" You ask, still wondering if he realizes that none of these plants are his.

"- Indeed, it's beautiful specimens such as these that need to be guarded somewhere more safely, don't you think?" He asks, although his whole time is pretty distant from the present conversation. He probably does think you're just an ordinary human.

"- Yeah, I sure think that the owner of the garden is taking good care though." You respond, hoping he has some sort of sense to understand that he is in a private area, taking things that aren't his.

"- Well, they seem pretty lonely over here, and besides, I haven't seen anyone taking care of them." He probably already noticed what you're doing, trying to make him feel bad for taking them away. But honestly, he didn't saw anyone here to take care of them, so it may as well be from no one.

And if it is from no one, is his now.

"- Are you perhaps the owner of the garden?" He asks, now paying close attention to you. You seem to be an upper class human, lavishly adorned by those jewels and fine silk, it would make a lot of sense of you were the owner of such an extravagant place. Are you perhaps made at his entrance into "your territory"?

"- Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, why the curiosity?" You ask while making your way to seat down at one of the stone benches near the creature.

"- Just wondering why you're so interested in my presence. I guess I'm not wanted here." He was going to go back to… Wherever the hell he is from, but you decided to stop him right there.

"- Wouldn't it be rude for you to leave without making an proper introduction to the host? And hey, what kind of host am I if I let you leave this place while having such an unpleasant experience?" You make a little sign to tell him to seat with you. I mean, metaphorically, he can't really seat at that tiny little bench with you.

This interesting encounter lead to an surprisingly interesting conversation between two beings that are very similar yet aren't fully aware of it. The Collector sees you as a really intelectual human, almost so close to understanding his own feelings towards the other creatures around him, and you think he could be just another kind of monster with an oddly endearing superiority complex.

The type of "yes, sir, I do shiny like a thousand stars" it's strangely very entertaining to watch. You're both art lovers, and seem to have an great fascination with the living creatures around you, even if they're a "beneath" you two.

If only this conversation could least longer, if only he could held his hoarding erge, but he couldn't.

"- This conversation has been the best I had in eons!" He squeals in excitement.

"- Yeah. The feeling is mutual." You say being completely honest. Although, he didn't think you were being serious on each word you said.

"- I think we'll have a great time when I put you in the jewel box." He starts to stand himself up, his legs making mechanical noises that almost overpowered the sound your voice when you said:

"- Uhn…. The what?" You asked genuinely confused about this turn of events.

"- Oh! Well, I like to call it jewel box but if you want an precise description is an pocket dimension containing my vast collection!" He says absolutely eccstatic about this! His hand starts to go towards your small form, successfully picking you up in a really gentle way.

"- An collection? Of what exactly?" You decided to go with this just out of curiosity. This is starting to become concerning and interesting!

"- Of living creatures such as your beautiful little self." He answers, but without waiting your response, he pulls his mask slightly to the side as an strong amount of light hit your eyes making you temporarily blind.

He thought he had managed to transport you with the plants he had stolen to his little storage dimension, yet he was proven wrong when he heard an voice say:

"- Wow! That was…. An interesting and short ride! Absolutely terrifying!" When he turned around he saw you adjusting yourself as you speak. Man, who would've thought being transported to another dimension would be like this?

And of course, he is shocked. How??? How did you do that? How did you managed to get out? Have you even went inside??

He was starting to check his mask to see if he could feel anymore new cracks, or if the mask was damaged in any way. Luckily for him, his mask hasn't been damaged at all, yet he was still left with unanswered questions.

"- H-How?" This is the first time in his life he has ever stutter, he felt so confused and afraid because he couldn't understand what the hell just happened!?!

You turned your head to look at him, your once welcoming mischievous face wear a more serious expression, almost an scorn.

"- So, this is what you meant by loving the "lesser creatures"? The ones that can't protect themselves from the almost of power you harbor? You capture them and put them in your personal little playground?"

You asked him, scolding him as you came forward to his towering form. You looked straight up at his eyes. Or more accurately, his masks holes for eyes. He is so shocked at this outcome that his first reaction is to distance himself from you, walking back in desperation.

If any of his kind saw this pathetic display, they would probably laugh at him to no end.

"- I should have known better than to trust someone so soon. I should have banned you from my garden, but now? I'm kinda glad I got to see your true nature-" You didn't stop your march towards him. You only stopped when he was corned by the mountain against his back "- You vile mons-" You were cut off in the middle of your rant by a large hand picking you fast as he tried once again to shove you into his light. Into his dimension.

He needed to confirm he hasn't went insane. No, no, this couldn't be possible, it had to be impossible!

How can you stop the teleportation midway and go back like nothing happened???

"- Were you listening to anything I said?" You once again appeared near him, clearly mad at his futile attempts of imprisoning you.

He… Is shaking. Uncontrollably. His body is shaking in such a pace that even the mountain behind him seem to be suffering from the earthquake caused by his sudden shaking.

You weren't understanding what was happening, and before you could try to get some answers his whole body freezed the moment an crack was audibly coming from his mask.

He was getting so, so stressed over this predicament. He needed to calm down. He needed to understand what was happening and who were you to be able to do this to him!

"- I.. I have underestimated you." It's all he managed to say. It's all he could process at this moment.

"- Well, I guess I did as well." You thought he was only another monster hanging around your garden. You didn't expect such powerful abilities being used to harm others.

Your later encounters were, well, kinda bittersweet at first. He kept stealing jewelry and kidnapping habitants of your world. You did try to fight him, but you soon learned that he was essentially a walking bomb. A cosmic one at that. To kill him, you need to break his mask, breaking his mask causes an immense explosion that will consume everything around it, and then turning all that mass into a new star with a new solar system.

And there is a slight possibility of him rebirthing with the star and the new planets. You were considering consulting other entities to create an weapon capable of destroying his kind without causing too much destruction. You have yet to decide your next move.

You two had, interesting encounters. No fighting, no trying to harm or to trap one another. Just… Talking. Just like you two did in your first meeting.

As the centuries pass you notice how he still wants to keep you in his little playground, which still disturbs you to no end, but at least he has stopped picking more victims to his dollhouse. His attempts are still futile and naive, yet, you can't help but feel concerned about his cracks in his mask. Not only the possibility of it breaking causing an massive massacre against all that you love and care about, but- You can't help but be worried about him.

You have soon learned what the cracks means to his kind.

"- Hey, look, stop- Sigh, stop trying… Please." You try warning him, not wanting to see him overstressed again.

He looks at you, and although his mask doesn't show, you feel that he is looking at you with confusion and tiredness. He knows you're just like him, so it makes sense that you can't be trapped inside his dimension.

Is, kinda of a thing about his kind. There is an common understanding that if you love something, you put it where no one will be able to harm or take it away. They can't physically put each other inside their pocket dimensions, but saying that you do it for them if it was possible is kinda an emotional phrase to them. It's an weird equivalent of "I love you", but they aren't aware of how this types of feelings work, so whenever they say it, is supposed to be really special.

Even if to the majority of the universe, it sounds incredibly concerning and possessive.

He just- He just really wishes he could take you with him, to keep you with him.

He doesn't understand why, he just really wants to, and the frustration of not being able to is killing him (literally).

"- Why are you-" He tried to muster an question, but he feels so weak and pathetic that he can't even ask you why you care about him. You interrupt him, shushing him up in hopes of it easing his mind.

"- Just, please, don't say anything. Don't think about anything. You'll get yourself hurt if you do."

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Jesus Christ, I'm really sorry if this isn't what you were waiting for anon, I'm really sorry but I still wanted to share it so here it is- 😭

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[until-theend-oftheline]

Friends in Training

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Warnings: Sam and Bucky are giant children

Word Count: 507

A/N: This is a drabble request written for @jewels2876​ : How about this with Sam and Bucky? "Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?" "I don't know, probably both?"  

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

You were sitting by the counter in the Avengers Tower chatting with Steve, Nat and Clint when the door came crashing open. It was so loud that most normal people would have jumped out of their skin, but you weren’t surrounded by normal people and the sound of the door slamming against the wall wasn’t exactly unusual either. All of that put together meant none of you barely reacted. 

Clint and Nat shared an amused look. You raised an eyebrow, looking over at Steve who released that kind of sigh only the most exhausted of parents can muster. 

“Come on Sam! I knew you’d move in time,” Bucky followed, Sam from a safe distance of a few feet grinning from ear to ear as long as Sam’s back was turned. As soon as Sam spun around Bucky reset his expression to one of great remorse, hanging his head while impersonating a kicked puppy. 

“A fucking flame thrower Barnes!” Sam hissed. 

“Well if HYDRA….” Bucky started only to be interrupted by Sam. 

“DO I LOOK LIKE HYDRA!”

“It was a training exercise. If it had been real…” Bucky tried to explain but Sam was having none of it.

“I would still be on your side and you damn near barbequed me!” 

“Kentucky fried chicken,” Clint snorted, and Sam’s fist landed against his arm without the man even worthing Clint a look. 

“Hey! That’s my job!” Natasha scolded, causing Steve to sigh even deeper and you to bite your lip in effort to not laugh. Bucky however, didn’t have that strength and he bent over laughing, much to Sam’s frustration. 

“So that’s funny is it?! I knew you did that on purpose!” Sam glared at Bucky, who just shrugged seeing no reason to keep up the charade. 

“Really?! Are you clinically insane or just incredibly annoying?” Sam growled, so angry he wasn’t even making much sense anymore. 

“Probably both,” Bucky grinned, causing Sam to make an indecipherable noise before twirling around and storming towards the elevator. 

“Alright you got that one. I’ll deal with the other,” Steve spoke to you nodding towards Bucky, who instantly scowled at his best friend. 

“Hey!”

“Behave,” you flicked Bucky’s ear, and his hand shut up to rub it with a pout, even if it hadn’t hurt. Steve on the other hand hurried towards the elevator so Bucky wouldn’t see his smile. He was happy Bucky finally seemed to have found his place in the Tower. Even if you pretended to be mad at him, Steve knew you loved Bucky more than anything and the feeling was mutual. Steve even knew that beneath the fighting and bickering with Sam, there was a deep friendship there. A friendship that resembled the one of a pair of toddlers, but a friendship nonetheless, that would end up giving Steve a head of grey hair despite the serum. But Bucky was happy and that was the main thing, Steve decided as he took a deep breath preparing himself to deal with Sam’s hour long rant about Bucky’s behavior.  

Reblogs spread my work and make me happy. Got a favorite part/line? Did something touch you? Do you relate in some way? Please tell me and make my day.  

Bucky Barnes Tag Team

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[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 16

Title: Bruised, Not Broken

Warnings:  mental illness, memory and talk of near death experience, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty​

“He’s struggling,” Esme says the following morning, as she leans stomach first against the kitchen island, cell phone pressed to her ear and an oversized mug of steaming tea staring invitingly up at her. “Badly.”

It’s eight thirty in the morning and she’s exhausted; a night full of broken sleep and attempting to fend off the monsters that accompany the reality of mental illness. It hadn’t been that bad in a long time; inconsolable, body wracking sobs that quickly transition into feelings of frustration and embarrassment, followed by a period of self loathing and disgust, finished off by intense rage directed at the mental illness itself and the people and experiences that directly caused it. It’s a hell of a thing to go through. Holding your six foot three, two hundred pound husband while he desperately clings to you and weeps like a terrified and wounded child. Able to do little more than offer verbal reassurance and attempt to comfort by running your fingers through his hair or rubbing his back. THAT isn’t the difficult part; the soothing comes easily and naturally and he normally responds quickly. Even the shame he feels afterwards is relatively easy to cope with. She can fend that off by staying calm and explaining why he doesn’t need to feel that way; somewhat convincing him that there’s no need for embarrassment just because he had a moment of vulnerability and weakness. Reminding him that he IS human; he’s allowed to feel hurt and pain and be frustrated and confused. But it’s the anger that takes over; all consuming and powerful and making it impossible to get through to him. She’d long ago learned that it’s best to just sit back and not say anything; let him rant and rave and vigorously pace the floor. Redirecting doesn’t work; he becomes defensive and accusatory and every little suggestion is taken as a personal attack or judgement. Silence IS golden when he goes off the deep end. Relegating herself to just listening and acknowledging what's happening to him and conveying understanding through body language and actions as opposed to words.

It always ends the same way. With pure physical and emotional exhaustion taking over. All the rage and tears expended and leaving him feeling empty and worn out; crawling back into bed and turning his back towards her in a silent request to just leave him alone. And she gives him that; a hand resting on the top of his head or upon his shoulder, yet no words ever exchanged. Staring up at the ceiling with tears of her own streaming down her face; a mixture of her own frustration and anger and pure and profound heartache. Not only hating to see the person she loves more than anything in the world hurting so badly, but detesting the fact she can’t do anything to take it all away.

“He always struggles at Christmas,” Ovi reminds her, and over the line she can hear the babbling of the littlest and the various voices belonging to characters on Sesame Street. It’s surreal at times; acknowledging just who he is now and how far he’s come. Easily remembering him as that scared and traumatized teenager and then having to remind herself that he’s a grown man; a wife and children of his own and well on his way to becoming a pediatrician.

“It’s different this year. It’s not just sadness. It’s frustration and it’s rage and it’s so much self loathing. I know we were told that this would happen; he’d go through these kinds of ups and downs. But he’s been doing so well and he’s been coping and hasn’t had a downward spiral like this in so long.”

“What is it he’s actually getting worked up over? What’s setting him off?”

“He’s been thinking a lot about Austin. He mentioned how it was bothering him how much Millie and TJ look like him. I mean, he’s always sad at Christmas. It’s always difficult for him. But it’s not like THIS.”

“Maybe he’s wondering what Austin would be like now. Or what he would have been like when he was Millie and TJ’s ages. And if he’s already down and out because of the holiday, adding that into the mix COULD make it worse.”

“It’s been years since he was THIS bad. You know how well he’s been doing. Everything’s been under control. He’s been managing it. Extremely well.”

“And he’s still going to therapy?”

“Religiously. By himself AND with me. And you know what a miracle THAT is. Him even agreeing to getting help in the first place.”

“Is he taking his meds? If he’s been off them or been skipping them…”

“I’ve checked. I went and counted them myself. There’s no extra. He’s been taking them. And I fucking hate that I even have to do that. Check up on him like that. He’s a grown man. He’s forty-seven years old and I’m treating him like he’s a child. I hate that I have to do that. I hate this whole fucking thing. This whole illness.”

“Unfortunately, he’s shown that he can’t be trusted. When it comes to meds. It’s a horrible thing to say, but…”

“This is just so unfair,” she laments, and lifts the mug of tea to her lips. “ That he’s suffering like this. He’s paid his dues, Ovi. And then some. Why does he have to KEEP paying? Wasn’t Dhaka enough? Wasn’t what happened twelve and half years ago a big enough price to pay? He doesn’t deserve this. This kind of pain. I’d rather see him physically struggling than this. Because at least I know that pain will subside. But this? I fucking hate this. And I can’t see Christmas being the only thing causing this. He’s never this bad.”

“How’d he seem when he got back? From Cambodia?”

“Tired. A little sore. But he seemed fine. He was glad to be home and in great spirits. He’s been...I don’t know...he’s been Tyler. Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, it seemed like there was some underlying sadness, but I just chalked it up to it being Christmas and him always have a hard time.”

“Could something have happened while he was away? Could something have triggered it?”

“He didn’t tell me much. Just that the guys he took out were pretty much the biggest pieces of garbage he’s ever encountered. And that’s saying a lot; considering how many years he’s been doing the job and how many assholes he’s taken out. I guess they didn’t stop at just drug running and weapons trafficking. Apparently they abused women. And children. In the worst ways possible.”

“That could do it. Probably hit close to home. Hearing about someone taking advantage of kids like that.”

“He did seem rather vengeful about it. Satisfied, even. That he got the chance to take out people like that. And I don’t blame him; those people are scum and they deserve to put down in the most painful way possible. And he did say that it made him think about his kids. He kind of started dwelling on it; what would happen and how he’d react if anyone touched his kids like that.”

“That’s probably what did it,” Ovi concludes. “It’s probably been just eating away at him. It’s probably all he’s been thinking about; his own kids getting victimized like that. And you know Tyler. Once something is in his head, it lives there rent free. For a long time.”

“I try to get him to focus on other things; cut him off at the pass before he even gets down that rabbit hole. Usually it works; I can distract him and get him thinking about other things. And I thought it DID work. Guess I’m not as good at all of this as I think.”

“I think you need to cut yourself some slack. If anything, you do TOO much. You take too much on. You’ve got seven kids you’re taking care of. You’re dealing with Tyler’s issues. Are you taking care of yourself? Has anyone asked you how YOU’RE doing? Because that’s just as important.”

“I’m doing okay,” she lies, and swallows a mouthful of tea. “I’m fine.”

She feels anything but; weary to her bones and longing to be home. Six years ago, Australia had become her happy place; a beautiful home backing out onto the beach and the ocean in such short walking distance. There’s a bliss that comes with being there. The feel of the sand beneath your feet and between your toes, the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the smell of salt that hangs heavily in the air. It represents everything that is beautiful and good in her life; incredible little human beings she’d had a hand in making and a man that loves her more than anything in the world and practically worships the ground she walks on. Everyone seems happier there; content with the sunshine and the warm temperatures and the close relationship with nature. The pace of life seems slower; more laid back and relaxing and not possessing the amount of stress and tension that being in the States in the middle of winter seems to bring. And while she loves it in New York -the convenience that comes with a big city and the amount of activities to keep yourself busy that are available- she’d willingly give it all up if meant it would alleviate some of the suffering that Tyler’s mental illness brings upon him.

“You realize I know you’re lying, right?" Ovi says. "That I lived with you for years and I know exactly how you get; taking on the world’s problems and not paying attention to your own. You can’t keep doing that. You can’t keep ignoring yourself because you’re so busy trying to solve everyone else’s issues. You can’t pour from an empty cup. You burn yourself out and you’ll be no good to anyone. Especially the kids.”

“I don’t have time to worry about myself. Or the energy. There are far more important things going on than what I’m going through.”

“So you’re NOT fine.”

“It’s stressful. It’s Christmas. I always get like this at Christmas. It’s all those ridiculous standards my mother put on us when we were young. Everything had to look and be perfect on the surface so no one really knew just how messy it all was underneath. I can’t get out of that; that line of thinking. And yes, I DO know that’s unhealthy, Doctor Mahajan.”

Ovi chuckles. “Let’s not go tossing that title around just yet. I’ve got a few more years to go. Especially when I’m going into a speciality.”

“Listen, if I want to call my kid a doctor, I will. I’m proud of you. I know how far you’ve come. Everything you’ve gone up against and battled through. I still remember fourteen year old you. Keeping you occupied in that factory; talking about movies and girls and school.”

“I still remember when you showed up. Wondering who the hell you were and thinking ‘how the hell is someone THAT small going to help us?’. Talk about not being able to judge a book by it’s cover. Tyler was right; it is the tiny ones you have to watch out for.”

Smiling, she takes a sip of tea and then perches herself on the edge of the counter. “Do you remember when we used to go into town and get ice cream? In Telluride? When you had your last period off in high school and you’d come home early and it would just be the two of us?”

“I LOVED that place. That was like a childhood dream come true! Walls of candy and thirty flavours of ice cream and these enormous banana splits and massive sundaes. Remember that time we shared that really huge hot fudge one? With the whipped cream and the peanuts on it? I think it was called the Beast or something like that.”

“The Behemoth,” she laughs. “I DO remember that. We sat outside and shared it. We even flipped a coin to see who got to eat the cherry that was on the top.”

“I am still mad at you for winning that. I really wanted that cherry. Those are some of my best memories, you know. The things we’d do together. When Tyler was away and Millie and the twins were at school. We used to have some fun. I used to love when we went bowling. And we’d eat french fries soaked in vinegar.”

“And those really horrible hamburgers. With the flat patties. And no taste. That seems so long ago. You were what? Eighteen? If that?”

“Just turned seventeen. And that IS a long time ago. I AM twenty seven now.”

“And you have your own wife and your own kids. And you’re a doctor.”

“Not yet,” he laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Let’s not pretend it won’t happen. We both know it will. And I am; proud of you. So proud. You have come so far, Ovi. To do as well as you have after everything you went through. You would have had every right to have issues.”

“I had two people that loved me and believed in me. That made me realize I could do whatever I wanted. BE who I wanted. If I hadn’t had you guys? I wouldn’t be where I am now. I probably would have followed in his footsteps. I would have felt obligated to. Scared and pressured into it. And it would have just kept that whole vicious and toxic cycle going.”

“I know we weren’t perfect. I know Tyler and I went through some shit that you had to listen to and witness. But all we’ve ever wanted is the best for you. For you to realize how amazing you are. How much potential you have. And all we wanted to do was give you a good life. Even if at the time we didn’t have the money you once had and sometimes it seemed we didn’t have much to offer you. All we wanted was to give you a family.”

“You did. And it never mattered what you could and couldn’t give me. Materialistically speaking. All that mattered was that you loved me. And I felt that. I ALWAYS felt that.”

“It’s strange, huh? How something so crazy and scary brought us together? How complete strangers can become family? It’s surreal.”

“It wasn’t the most conventional of meetings, but it certainly turned out pretty amazing. You know what I remember the most? About back then? When we did meet? I remember being on that bridge with you. And how you refused to separate from me. You said you wouldn’t leave me. And you didn’t. Even I was slowing you down, you never abandoned me. And you didn't treat me like you were doing a job or I was some kind of package. There was no money, but you still stuck by me.”

“We were in it together. I wasn’t going to sacrifice you to save myself. That’s just not who I am. I wasn’t going to leave you. In the same way I wasn’t going to leave Tyler there. There was no way I was doing that; taking off and leaving him there to die. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. My conscience couldn’t handle it. And selfishly, I wanted him alive. I wanted to get to know him and be with him.”

“Hell of a way to profess your love for someone. Willingly sacrifice your life to try and save them. Stick your fingers in their neck to keep them alive. Nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like that.”

“It was quite the ordeal,” Esme agrees, and finishes off the remains of her tea. “You know, sometimes it feels like just yesterday. Other times it feels like forty years. But if I close my eyes and I try hard enough, I can actually remember what it felt like to be there. How scared I actually was. I can hear the gunshots and the explosions and my own heart pounding in my chest. I can even still smell things; blood and gasoline and gunpowder.”

“I believe that’s something referred to as PTSD.”

“Listen buddy, you’re trying to become a pediatrician, NOT a shrink. Don’t go psychoanalyzing me.”

“I’m just saying maybe it’s time you worked on what’s going on in YOUR head. Instead of worrying so much about what’s going on in Tyler’s. I know you love him. I know you’d do anything for him. You go hard core Mother Hen when he gets like this. And I know you can’t help it and I know he appreciates everything you do for him. But you know what else I know? I know he doesn’t expect you to forget about yourself while constantly taking care of him. He’s a grown man. And he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“It’s easier said than done. I can’t just let him fend for himself. I can’t just let him spiral out of control and do nothing more than hope for the best. He’s my husband. The father of my kids. And it kills me to see him like this. To know he’s in so much pain. To hear him talk about himself like he does.”

“When he gets like this, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Or saying. He just lashes out. He doesn’t mean it when he says he wishes he had died five years ago. Or twelve and a half years ago. That’s just his brain telling him this shit. Do you think he’s in crisis? Do you think he’d hurt himself? Try something stupid?”

“No. I don’t think he WANTS to die. I think he just wants this over. The pain he’s in. He just wants it to stop.”

“He’s going through a depressive stage. It’s to be expected. I mean, it sucks it’s happening right now. At Christmas. What’s he doing right now?”

“Sleeping.” She looks out towards the living room; Tyler fast asleep on the couch, on his stomach with the comforter from TJ’s bed tossed over him and an arm and a leg dangling over the side. The night hadn’t gotten any better after he’d fallen asleep. Tossing and turning and having nightmares; finally coming downstairs to take up residence on the sofa and give her the chance to get a peaceful, undisturbed rest. But she hadn’t been able to. Too worried about him and wanting nothing more than to go downstairs and join him on the couch, yet knowing his current mood, her actions wouldn’t be well received. “He’s on the couch right now. It was a rough night. Nightmares.”

“About?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Which means they were about Dhaka. Most likely about the bridge. He’ll talk to me about Nathan, but not about the bridge. He avoids that like the plague. More for me than for him.”

“Have you called his therapist? Told him what’s going on? Maybe he has some suggestions; things that can alleviate some of the anxiety and the panic. Help him sleep better.”

“If it gets worse, I’ll call. This could have been a one off. It might have just been a delayed reaction to being away.”

“If it wasn’t and he DOES get any worse? Call. Don’t hesitate. Or take him to the emergency. Or call me and I’ll take him.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. He’s resting now. Which is a good sign. Last time he went into a depressive state, he didn’t sleep for a week. I’ll give it a couple days. At least get past Christmas. Once it’s over, he might perk up.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me. If he gets worse or you sense he’s spiralling out of control. I’ll be there. As soon as I can.”

“You have your own life. Riya and the kids. I can’t…”

“That’s my dad. I want to help. LET me help. It’s the least I can do. I’ve to go for now though; promised Mykayla we’d go see Santa in Central Park. She has some last minute gift ideas to drop in his lap.”

“Give her and Tabbi a kiss from Grandma Me. Tell them I love them. Riya too. I love you, Ovi. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll give them tons and hugs and kisses from you,” he promises. “And I love you too, mom.”

****

She’s sitting in the sunroom when he wakes an hour later; listening to him shuffle through the living room and into the guest bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Minutes later he’s heading towards her; yawning noisily and his eyes heavy lidded. And she glances up from the laptop resting upon her thighs when he pads into the room; clad in a pair of tattered and faded plaid pyjama bottoms and no shirt. And she can’t help but think about how adorable he looks; a giant of man boasting his fair share of tattoos and scars, his hair mussed from sleep and a sporting pout of both sleepiness and annoyance.

“Hey sleeping beauty,” she cheerfully greets, and tilts her head back to smile at him. “How you feeling?”

“Alright I guess.” He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and then rakes his fingers through his hair. “Can you stand up for a second?”

She cocks her head to the side, a quizzical look on her face.

He manages a small smile, then runs a gentle palm over her hair and adds, “Please?”

Obliging, she places the laptop on the seat cushion next to her and then joins him at the side of the couch; immediately gathered into his embrace and pulled tightly into his chest. And she climbs onto the top of his feet and perches on her tiptoes in order for her arms to reach their final destination; wrapped tightly around his neck. For several minutes neither of them speak; eyes closed and their warm bodies pressed together, a forearm holding her in place and a palm cradling the back of her head. He feels so good; his body hard and strong and never failing to make her feel safe. It’s never been a worry of hers; whether or not he’d be able to defend her if someone hell bent on revenge was determined to hurt his family. And she rests easy at night knowing what he’s capable of and that he’d do whatever it takes -even giving up his own life if need be- to protect her.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he gently tugs on the short, soft tresses, forcing her to pull back and look at him. She hates what she sees in his eyes; that darkness that betrays just how lost and confused and scared he actually is. A man that always has always been so strong and so fearless; fighting other peoples battles while refusing to address his own. And it breaks her heart. Knowing that the things he’s capable of -the fierceness and the tenacity and the sheer brutality he’s reined down on people- are some of the many reasons he’s now feeling so weak and vulnerable. So good at the job, yet suffering so badly because of it.

“I’m sorry,” his voice quivers with emotion. “I am so fucking sorry.”

She reaches up to push limp bangs away from his forehead. Trying desperately to keep her own fears and worries from betraying her. He doesn’t need that right now; her coming undone and weeping in HIS arms. It’s time for her to be the strong one; holding him up and supporting him and never making him feel like a burden. “For what? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“The way I acted. Going off the deep end like I did. I hate that you have to see that. Hear the shit I say. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Tyler, you’re sick. It's a legitimate illness. And you know what? You’ve had an amazing five years. Barely any depressive or manic episodes. Things have been pretty stable and pretty smooth sailing. But we were told this could happen. That you could crash like you did. It’s just part of it. And you can’t help it. You don’t know what you’re doing or what you’re saying and…”

“I DO know what I’m doing. And what I’m saying. I’m not blacking out when it happens. I know exactly what’s going on when it’s happening.”

“It doesn’t mean you have control over it. Because you DON’T. It’s your brain. And when things go haywire, you can’t stop the things you do and the things you say. And you’re not to blame for that. You can’t control what is going on. And I know that’s what scares you the most; the loss of control.”

“I just hate that you have to be there. When it happens. That you have to see that shit and hear the things that come out of my mouth. I hate that it hurts you. That I hurt you.”

“You don’t hurt me. I hurt for you. That’s two entirely different things. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I know things were great and it seemed like it was completely under control. But baby, this is going to happen. Whether we want it to or not. We can’t stop it. It’s just the nature of the beast, unfortunately.”

“If I’d died five years ago...twelve and a half years ago…”

“Listen to me,” she pleads and takes his face in her hands. “DON’T go there. That is a very dark place and if you go there, you may never get back out. You are here for a reason. You’re here because you deserve to be. Because there’s people that love you. That NEED you. You helped me make seven beautiful little humans. None of them would exist if you weren’t here. Isn’t that enough? Knowing they’re alive because you are?”

“Of course it’s enough. But they shouldn’t have to live with this. YOU shouldn’t have to.”

“You are not the burden you think you are. It’s an illness. You can’t help what’s going on and you didn't do anything to cause it. It’s not your fault. Your brain didn’t do this to you because of something you did. It’s so many things. And you know what? It sucks. Huge. And I hate that this is happening to you. I hate that you are at war with your own mind every second of every goddamn day. But I won’t let you talk like that. I won’t let you say that you should have died. I won’t let you completely discount the life that you have now. Because I didn’t stick around on that fucking bridge and put my ass on the line so you could turn around and totally disregard that you were given a second chance for a reason.”

“I never asked you to stay. On that bridge. I never…”

“I stayed because you deserved to live. Because you’d paid your dues and you got your absolution. And you know what? Maybe part of it was selfish. Because I knew we could have something amazing if you stopped hating yourself long enough to let me love you. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say you really wanted to die that day? That you would go back and change that if you could? Even knowing you wouldn’t have what you have now. Someone that loves you more than they love themselves. Seven kids that think the sun rises and sets on you. Would you really go back and change everything? Would you really choose to die?”

“No,” he blinks back the tears that threaten to escape. “I wouldn’t. I would choose you. And my kids. Every day.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I’m sorry you’re hurting as much as you are. And I would give anything to take that all away and make you healthy. But you are not broken and I won’t let you destroy what you have. I won’t let your brain destroy YOU.”

“You shouldn’t have to do this. Take care of me like this. Do you know what this is like? How fucking embarrassing it is? That you have to take care of ME?”

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m your wife. I’m the mother of your kids. I have you seen at your absolute worst. I’ve seen you inches from death. This? This is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen and heard. You should never be embarrassed around me. I’m not going to judge you. And it's okay to be weak. To have vulnerable moments. You’re a goddamn human being.”

“I hate it. Being like that. Being weak.”

“Because you were told that it makes you less of a man. You had that drilled into your head from the time you were a little boy. And you know what? Nothing could be further from the truth. It takes a strong man to break down and admit they need help. You are the strongest person I have ever known. You do battle every second of every day with your own mind. And you always keep going. THAT’S brave.”

“I don’t feel it. I feel weak and pathetic and…”

“You are not any of those things. Look at everything you’ve been through. From the time you were a little boy until now. A weaker man would have given up a long time ago. But you? You fight back and you never give up and get back on your feet time and time again. That is strength, Tyler. The fact you suffer like you do but you get up every day and you smile when all you want to do is cry and you love your family with everything you have and bust your ass to make them happy even though you feel like you’re drowning. THAT? That is so far from being weak and pathetic.”

Sighing heavily, he glances away; swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion that sits squarely in his throat.

Pressing her fingers into his cheek, she turns his face back towards her. “I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And I fell in love with you knowing how messed up things were and what kind of torment and pain you were carrying. None of that matters to me. Because I know who you are outside of all of that. I know that you’re loving and you’re caring and you have a heart that’s even bigger than your body. I know how deep and powerfully you love DESPITE everything you’ve been through. I didn’t back away then, and I’m sure as hell not backing away now. So you can try as hard as you want to push me away, but you’re stuck with me, buddy.”

“That’s not so bad,” he chides through threatening tears. “I mean, I can think of way worse fates.”

“I will love you and take care of you until your last breath. And you know what? I’ll love you even after that.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve YOU.”

“That’s your brain trying to convince you of that. And I know its voice is deafening and it seems impossible to ignore it, but you’ve got to try and shut it out. Concentrate on what I’m saying to you. Because what I’m telling you? It’s the truth. I’d never lie to you. So you need to pay attention to me, okay? And the things I say. I am way stronger and more tenacious than that voice inside of your head. Can you do that? Listen to me? Because I would never….ever...steer you wrong. You know that, right?”

“I do. I do know that. And I trust you. ‘Cause I sure as hell don’t trust my own brain anymore.”

“Then just rely on mine. Rely on ME. To give you the truth. Can you do that?”

“I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I’m asking for. Now…” she lays her hands on his chest and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin. “...you hungry? What do you want for breakfast? I know I’m not actually the top chef YOU are, but I do make a mean veggie omelette. And you do like my french toast.”

“I thought maybe we could go out. To that little diner a few blocks over. The one that makes those Belgian waffles you like so much.”

“With the strawberries and the homemade whipped cream? I definitely could go for that. Are you sure though? That you’re up to it? It was a pretty rough night and…”

“I’m fine. Or I will be. It’s sunny out. The fresh air would do me some good I think. And we only have so much time without the kids left and I really do like our alone time. Outside of the bedroom.”

“So you don’t like the alone time in the bedroom?” she teases.

“I never said that. I LOVE that time.”

“A breakfast date with my favourite human sounds perfect.” Reaching up, she combs her fingers through his hair, pushing the longer strands off his forehead. “I’m proud of you, you know that? How hard you fight. A lesser man would have given up a long time ago.”

“I’ve got way too much to live for. Besides, I can’t go offing myself and then have to bear witness to you dating another guy. Or worse, marrying one.”

“Never going to happen. You’re it for me. There won’t be anyone after you. You’re stuck with me until the bitter end, Mister.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he takes her face in his hands and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”

*****

“I talked to Ovi earlier,” Esme says, as they sit in the back corner of the diner. Sipping steaming mugs of tea; joined hands resting on the table top; fingers laced together and his thumb repeatedly brushing against hers.

The booth is a safe distance away from the main hub of activity; crowds of people and excessive noise caused by the rattle of dishes and numerous conversations and boisterous laughter taking place at the same time. It’s important to avoid any and all triggers, or to at least find ways to lessen the effects of something that could bring on ‘an episode’. On the short walk she’d noticed the tell tale signs that depression isn’t the only concern; the hyper-vigilance associated with his PTSD quickly creeping in. Exhibiting anxiety if he felt pedestrians were crowding around him on sidewalks or when waiting to cross the street. Glaring at anyone he felt was staring at him or in somehow posing even the slightest bit of a threat towards her; jaw clenching as he tightly brought her into his side or put a hand on the back of her neck while drawing him in front of her. And the glances cast over his shoulder; eyes constantly scanning for anything and everything that could be considered suspicious or threatening, visibly tensing at every slam of a car door.

It’s both disheartening and worrisome; to see him regressing back to old behaviours after years of coping so well. Being off the street has helped; his shoulders not as tense, jaw no longer clenched, eyes not surveying the crowd with so much apprehension and simmering anger. But he still insists on being the one to sit facing the door; able to physically handle a threat if one came in their direction. And while she knows those chances are rare and his brain is far from thinking rationally, she doesn’t argue or try to change his mind; squeezing his arm and giving him a reassuring smile before switching seats.

Tyler doesn’t look up from the menu open in front of him. “About me?”

“Yes,” she admits, and refuses to allow him to pull his hand away from hers. “I told him what happened last night. About how you’re struggling.”

“Why? Why would you tell him? He’s got his own shit to deal with. He doesn’t need to hear about what’s going on with me.”

“I told him because he loves you. Because you’re his dad. And he worries about you. We both do.”

“He’s got his own life. His own wife, his own kids. Don’t bother him with that bullshit.”

“You and your issues are NOT bullshit. And you’re part of his life. You have been since he was fourteen years old. We took him in and we raised him and we gave him a family. And he loves you. He has every right to know what’s going on with you. And you know what? I have the right to have someone I can turn to. When I’m struggling.”

“I don’t mean to be such a burden on you. Make you struggle so much.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. I need someone I trust to help me, help you. And honestly, I need someone I can talk to. About all of this. Because it kills me inside that you’re struggling and you’re in so much pain. And I don’t want to put that on you, Tyler. Can you just accept that you’re surrounded by people who love you? That we’re trying to help? Let us love you, okay?”

Sighing, he nods in agreement. “Okay.”

“We’re just worried about you. We just want to help you.”

“I’ll be fine in a couple days. Once Christmas is over. I’ll act like everything is okay around the kids. So it doesn’t ruin things for them. I just need the holiday over with. I’ll be okay once it is.”

“I’m sure you will.” She hopes she sounds more confident than she feels. “It’s always a hard time. The holidays. And you know, seeing the kids so happy Christmas morning will help too. You know how cute that is; how excited they are, their faces all lit up when they see all the presents. It’s kind of hard NOT to smile when you see all of that. So that gives you something to look forward to, right?”

“You know what I’m NOT looking forward to? How many times they wake us up between midnight and five am.”

“It felt like every half hour last year.”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been up until two in the morning putting together that stupid dollhouse we got for Addie and Brooklyn. Having to decorate every damn room and put out all those little forks and knives and plates and shit.”

“You were a pro. I was quite impressed how those huge hands of yours dealt with teeny tiny cutlery. And I have to say, you have quite the eye when it comes to interior design. Maybe you should be in charge of picking out decor for the house from here on out.”

“That’s not the deal. You pick shit out and I live with it. Or you tell me what needs to be painted and what colour you want and I do it. Or I carry heavy shit. I’m happy with that; our arrangement. What else did he say? Ovi?”

“He said that Tabbi is up on her feet and starting to cruise the furniture. Finally sleeping through the night. Remember those days? The relief that comes with THAT?”

“We didn’t really get to experience that until Takota and Brookie started sleeping through the night. They’re last so we didn’t have any babies after them to worry about. The rest of them?”

“One started sleeping through the night, another baby was born. We were pretty busy those first seven years.”

“You know, you could have always said ‘no’ a few times. You didn’t always have to put out every time I asked you to.”

“Are you kidding? And miss out on the fun? You can’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

He grins. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“And Mykayla starts preschool next week. Can you believe that? Our first grand baby is going to be in preschool! It seems like she was just born. Kind of hard to believe, don’t you think?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact I have two grandkids.”

“For what it’s worth, I think we’re pretty sexy grandparents. You’re a damn fine grandpa.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

“I don’t care. You ARE a grandpa. You ARE grandpa Tyler.”

“Makes me feel so fucking old. Way older than I actually am.”

“Well for what it’s worth, you’re the hottest grandpa around. I’d still do ya.”

“Yeah? Well I definitely wouldn’t say no to you. You’re kinda hot yourself. For a grandma.”

“What about when I’m the grandma who can barely see or hear and my hair is snow white and my body a total dumpster fire?”

“You’ll still be the most beautiful girl in the world to me.”

Smiling, she squeezes his hand and then smiles at the waitress who returns to refill his coffee and take their orders. For several minutes they sit in silence; his thumb sliding down to the base of her wrist and continuing its slow and methodical caress, eyes flicking back and forth as they constantly survey the surroundings and their fellow diners. She’s seen that look before; cautious and wary, as if expecting a threat to announce its presence any second. And it’s a side that she hasn’t seen in years; since extensive therapy began to help control the hyper-vigilance and paranoia.

“Hey…” she taps the toe of a boot against his shin in order to grab his attention. “...you okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages a smile; that half assed turning up of one corner of his mouth. “I’m good.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like an armed robber is going to come barging and start shooting up the place. Do you want to get our order to go? Eat at home? Where you’re more comfortable?”

“I’m comfortable here. I’m fine, Me. Honest.”

“You are NOT fine. You are far from fine. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time. I’m safe, Tyler. Nothing is going to happen. I’m with you. Which means nothing or no one can hurt me. I trust you. I know you can protect me if you have to. I am one hundred percent safe because I am with YOU.”

“What if I can’t? Protect you?”

“You can. You’ve always been able to. Nothing’s changed. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m here with you and everything is right in the world. Just try and relax, okay?”

“I’m not who I was back then. When we met.”

“I don’t expect you to be. And you know what? You’re better than you were. You’re stronger and you’re healthier and I trust you one hundred percent. There’s nothing you can’t handle. Nothing you can’t beat. Everything is fine. I’M fine. You need to just try and relax, alright? Nothing is going to happen to me. Not when I’m with you.”

The tension slightly lifts; the stiffness in his shoulders easing and the frantic bouncing of his leg finally stopping. But she notices the way his hand shakes when he lifts when he lifts the coffee mug to his lips.

“Do you want to go? Do you feel like you’re going to have a panic attack?”

“No. I’m okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Here…” reaching into her purse, she briefly rummages through it and pulls out a small vial of pills she’s grabbed from the stash in the lock box in the pantry; snapping off the lid and dropping two in her palm. “...just a couple. It’ll take the edge of. Calm you down. Take them. Please.”

He obliges, plucking the tablets from her palm and placing them under his tongue and allowing them to resolve. The silence that follows is nerve wracking. Feeling her own heart pounding wildly in her chest as she watches him from across the booth; an elbow resting on the table , eyes closed and his palm pressed against his forehead. And she’s unsure how much time has actually passed when he takes a sharp intake of breath; eyes opening and his forearm coming to rest on the formica.

“Good?” she asks, and softly runs her fingers over his. “You alright?”

“Better.”

“You’ll be okay. In a few minutes, you’ll be right as rain. You’re doing good, baby. I’m proud of you.”

The corners of his mouth twitch as he attempts a smile. “I was thinking that maybe we should go home. Earlier than we were going to. Maybe a couple days into New Years instead of a couple weeks.”

“Is that what you want to do? Go home?”

“Yeah…” he struggles to hold back a flood of tears; uttering a string of profanities and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be embarrassed. Just pretend that no one else exists but me. That no one else is here. Just listen to my voice. You’re fine. It’s just your brain, Tyler. Ignore what it is telling you and pay attention to what I’m saying. I’m okay. I’m safe. Because I’m with you. Nothing is going to happen. There’s no one following us, there’s no out to get you, there’s no one that’s going to hurt me. There’s no threat. Everything is okay. Alright?”

Nodding, he takes a deep intake of breath and then releases it slow. “I want to go home.”

“Home as in our place here or…?”

“Home, home. Australia. I want to go home. As soon as we can. I NEED to go home.”

“I’ll change our flight plans. When we get back to the townhouse. I’ll call and set everything up. We’ll leave on the second, okay?”

“But the kids might be pissed. They might…”

“I’ll think of something to tell them. They don’t need to know what’s going on. Don’t worry about that, alright? I’ll take care of everything. I mean, if you really wanted to, we could leave earlier. Ovi knows you’re struggling and…”

“I can’t miss his wedding. I’m the best man. That’s my kid.”

“And he’d understand. If you needed to get out, he would totally have your back. Believe me, he wouldn’t hold it against you if you couldn’t handle it here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll suck it up and I’ll get through it. We’ll go to the wedding and we’ll have a good time and we’ll have our mommy and daddy only night. Then we can leave. On the second.”

“Okay,” Esme says, and reaches across the table to wipe away an errant tear that slips down his face. “You’re going to be okay.” she promises. “You always are. You’ve fought back against way worse.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

Smiling, she pushes her fingers through his. “Enough for both of us.”