#please give me $1 towards my cat’s meds

[batwynn]

Seems like we’re all going through it.

(Updates on Patreon)

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

6. Volunteering

Part 1

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, mentions of infants, children, and the NICU, masturbation, voyeurism, snuggling. Mild angst, fluff, and light smut

-----

Your next date with Ghost was much like the first. He’d come into the med bay a little before noon to have his dressings changed, and after you’d finished, he’d put his hand on your lower back and ushered you outside and towards his car. 

“Where are we going? I’m still in my scrubs,” you said, laughing as he helped you into the passenger’s seat and got in to start the engine. 

“Lunch. Nothing fancy.”

—

It was a quiet little spot near the edge of a village fifteen minutes away by car. The food was brought quickly and you ate together on the patio under a large umbrella, listening to birds chirping in the distance. 

Your phone vibrating in your pocket pulled you away from watching a stray cat prowl the alley across the street. The number was unknown, but it was British, so you picked it up. 

“Hello?” you asked, resting your hand on your palm. Ghost frowned but said nothing. 

“Hi, is this the doctor who goes by Feelgood?” the voice asked. You frowned and sat up straighter. 

“That depends on who’s asking. Who is this?” you asked. 

“Dr. Whitman, head of the emergency department at the central Memorial Hospital on your base. We’ve had a mild staffing crisis over here and I’d like to request your assistance in the operating room as soon as you can make it,” she said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course, I’ll be right over. I’ll be bringing you a…volunteer,” you said, looking Ghost up and down, a devious smile on your face. 

—

You took the wheel on the way back to the hospital and practically sprinted into the emergency department when you arrived, leaving Ghost trailing behind you and looking lost. He watched as you spoke to several people before a tired-looking older woman came to greet you and ushered you away to the back. You pointed at him as you went through the swinging doors and she looked back and nodded, and then you were gone. 

Ghost sat down on a chair in the hallway, scanning the emergency department from where he was sitting. Doctors, nurses, and other personnel bustled around him and hardly anyone spared him a glance until a chipper young man in a pastel pink scrub set approached him. 

“Hi, you must be the guest Dr. Feelgood mentioned! She spoke quite highly of you, I’m delighted to have you with us for today! Come, follow me and I’ll show you where you can help us out. She made sure to tell us to give you one of the fun jobs,” he said excitedly. Ghost rose from his seat warily, looking back at the doors where you had disappeared before following the young man out of the emergency department and into the greater hospital. 

Several maze-like hallways and corridors took them to the opposite end of the hospital, past countless different wards and departments until the man in the pink scrubs tapped his badge at a scanner and brought Ghost onto the ward they were headed for. And even then there were more hallways. 

Eventually, they found their way to a comfortable, private room with a large armchair, and the man ushered for Ghost to sit, which he did. 

“I’ll be right back with one of the little patients and then I’ll explain to you what to do,” he said with a soft smile before he disappeared and the door shut behind him. 

Ghost sat alone for a moment, wondering where the man had gone and what he’d meant by patients. Surely volunteering would just mean stocking boxes of gloves or writing things down for nurses?

His thoughts drifted to you and how you’d gone back into work mode the second your ass touched the seat in the car. Your voice had gone serious - you’d asked clipped questions about scenarios, diagnoses, and asked for numbers using acronyms he’d never be able to remember without a cheat sheet by his side. It impressed him, really - your intelligence, your skill, your care for others. 

The door was opened quietly and the man in the pink scrubs returned, breaking his chain of thought. He had with him an infant no older than a week. 

“On account of your injury, your friend has asked that we take you on as an enrichment volunteer here in the NICU,” the man said in a low voice, taking the baby from its carrier and slowly approaching Ghost. 

“What…do I do?” Ghost asked. There was genuine concern in his voice and he looked down at the little bundle with nervousness in his eyes. 

“Just hold her. Read to her, if you’d like. These babies desperately need affection - they’re in this ward for so long that it can be upsetting for their development. Just hit the call button on the wall if you need anything.” the man said softly. 

And with that, Simon was handed the baby. 

She settled into his broad arms in her sleep as the man in the pink scrubs left the room, closing the door behind him quietly. Simon gazed down at her little face as she slept, taking in every feature as he studied her. 

His heart stilled and his breathing settled as he focused on being as comfortable of a surface as he could. He looked at the child in his arms and he thought about you. 

Was a dead man capable of love? Could a weapon of war sleep peacefully at night, the woman of his dreams in his arms? Would the little thing in his arms recognize him as the killer he was?

Simon pushed his feet against the ground, carefully turning the recliner so that it faced away from the door and toward the large windows that looked down upon the hospital’s memorial garden. With one hand he reached up and slid the mask up, letting it rest on his forehead. He didn’t want it to scare the child if she woke. 

—

What seemed like a decade later after you’d finished surgery, you said goodbye to your patient, the team that had worked with you, and Dr. Whitman, and headed across the hospital to see if Simon had bolted. 

Even once you’d become a full-fledged doctor, you still returned to volunteer with the infants in the NICU every once and a while. It was your favorite thing to do in the hospital and you’d requested it for Simon, thinking he’d appreciate the calm, quiet job as well. 

You found him in the little room, not having budged from the recliner. His balaclava had been swapped for a black surgical mask and he’d pulled his hoodie up and drawn it mostly closed. 

There were two little babies snuggled up against him, one in each arm. His eyes were closed and he was sleeping quietly in the recliner, arms wrapped protectively around each infant. 

“Simon,” you murmured softly, your hands finding his shoulders and squeezing gently. He stirred and was awake in an instant but did not budge. You smiled at him and took one of the infants carefully, sitting down on the other recliner and studying him as you rocked the baby. 

“So, how’d you do? No crying,” you murmured. 

“I’ve needed to piss for two hours.”

—

You headed back to the barracks together later that night. As soon as the infants had been taken away, Simon had turned his back and tugged the balaclava back on, returning to his normal self. 

“Get some sleep tonight, doc. You need it,” he grumbled as he walked you to your door, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear absentmindedly. 

“And what’re you going off to do? You need to be resting. You haven’t fully healed yet and if you make that wound worse I’ll fucking kill you,” you teased, unlocking your bedroom door and pushing it open, ready for a shower. Simon only shrugged. 

“Been missing working out,” he huffed. Your jaw fell open and you grabbed his wrist, doing your best to yank him into your room. Amused, he played along, following you in. 

“I’m not even letting you fucking joke about it. You’re grounded. Sit here while I shower and then we’re going to watch a movie. You’re not leaving my sight,” you grumbled. Simon only laughed and pulled out your desk chair, folding his arms over his chest and watching as you headed into your bathroom and pulled the door shut behind you. 

It didn’t close all the way but you didn’t notice as you turned your shower on and stripped out of your dirty scrubs, jumping in as soon as the water was warm enough. 

Steam creeping out from the gap caught Simon’s attention and he dragged his eyes away from his phone. His eyes widened as he caught a look of you in the shower - naked, wet, and glistening. Your hands worked up and down your beautiful body and through your hair as you hummed quietly, your eyes closed. 

Simon got hard so quickly that he was glad he was sitting down. As if to prove that there was no blood left in his brain, he continued to stare, his eyes wide as he imagined creeping up behind you in the shower and pinning you to the wall, fucking you slowly from behind as you moaned his name and begged for more.

He considered raising his phone and snapping a picture, or worse, taking a video. Military self-control won out in the end, though, and he rose quietly from your chair and slipped out the door, shutting it silently behind him. 

Once back in his room with the door shut he sat in his own chair, facing his own dark, empty bathroom, as he yanked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing free. He regretted leaving your room as he wrapped his fist around his length, a low growl tearing from his lips as he bucked his hips into his hand, replaying that memory of you in the shower in his head like a GIF. 

In the other room, your shower turned off. He fucked his fist harder, more quickly as he imagined you bending over to dry yourself, your perfect little pussy exposed as if you were begging him to take you against the countertop. 

Simon hissed as he came without warning, cum covering his hand as your name escaped his lips with a groan. 

He felt dirty when, as he was washing up in his own shower, you hammered on the door. For the thrill of it, he answered it in a towel, feeling his cock twitch again as a look of surprise and embarrassment crossed your face. 

“I thought I told you not - not to leave,” you stammered, your eyes tracing the muscles of his chest down to the lines of his hips that lead to his–

“Wanted a shower,” he said. 

“Then we’ll watch the movie in here,” you said sternly. He complied, holding the door open wider for you. You did your best not to stare at him as he reentered the bathroom and dressed, sitting down on his bed and opening your laptop to set up the movie you’d chosen. 

He didn’t warn you before he lifted you to manually scoot you over when he came back to his bed in only boxers, making you squeak. He laughed as he settled in beside you, pulling the covers up over you both but not touching you further. 

“What do you want to watch?” you asked, scrolling through the list of movies that were freely available online. He shrugged, leaning up on one elbow to watch you. 

“You’re interesting. Maybe we should just go to the med bay so I can watch as you bustle around,” he said with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes and shut the laptop, tossing it to the end of the bed and sitting up fully. 

“If you don’t want to hang out with me that’s fine,” you said quietly, pushing the covers back and trying to climb over Simon to leave. He grabbed you gently by the hips and pulled you down onto him, flicking the light switch above his bed. 

“Simon, what–”

He squeezed you gently, nuzzling your hair and resting his chin on the top of your head, gently rubbing your back as you settled down against him. 

“Of course I want to be with you, m’ just tired. Now sleep,” he grumbled, closing his eyes and going still. You sighed quietly and made yourself comfortable against him, nestling into his chest and falling asleep securely wrapped in his arms.

-----

Taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Pssst saw your tags on the perfectionism thing,

Cheering You On For Real,

Getting meds can be difficult or scary or both, but no joke, when you find ones that help its so fucking nice

This is Unsoliciated Advice (which I deeply hate both giving and recieving) but this for real helped me and I personally experience Hella Bad Apathy when depressed, which makes doing anything so hard, so Your Mileage May Vary and I am sharing this cause it helped me with my personal hell of amotivation

1) if you are debating needing meds, they are 100% worth a shot. Trying a comparitativly "easy to get" SSRI or SNRI you can get from your regular doc will let you just see if you feel better, most meds start at a SUPER low dose and might genuinely help you at least partially get going toward Drugs That Help More but have a higher harder barrier

2) again, super sorry about the unsolicated advice, but if you want like, info on the drugs I take, my DMs are open. 100% completely sincere here, I'm offering cause getting meds seriously helped me out, and cause it fully took me 5 years to ask despite personally knowing people who took heavy duty SSRIs cause I felt like I wasnt "bad enough" you know? And if I can pitch in and offer even a bit of info that helps somebody find relief, then I'd like to reach out and do so

3) I know, that was A Lot, so please have a picture of Macaroni and regardless, I genuinely hope you have a great day

It took me a bit to answer this. sorry. Thanks for the cat picture.

While I do appreciate it, I don't like unsolicited advice about meds and stuff.

And I've been receiving LOTS of unsolicited advice lately. (as well as unsolicited requests) Which honestly bums me out, even if they come from good intentions.

Especially since it tends to scare me off. It's just how my brain works.

I did attempt anti-depressants once, and it had ugh... kinda a not great effect on me?

Sure, I was productive.... but I could NOT. Under any circumstances relax. trying to relax or do nothing would stress me out to the point of self-harming.

It was almost as if I didn't know who I was as a person when I wasn't doing something. Because when I could just sit there, I would be in a hyperactive state, and not be able to relax and dissociate from myself.

I wish I could remember the name of the drug I took, or maybe I'll contact my old therapist to make sure I don't have that one again.

I know my battle with depression isn't any one's business and I talk to my therapist constantly about getting meds or not.

But it's just from my first experience with meds that made me scared. So I'm just kind of going at my own pace with this kind of thing.

Like either I'll take meds or I won't. But I really think that's something to talk about between me and my therapist.

[mental-health-advice]

TW for several things. I am an alcoholic and most of the time I don’t care that I am. I like getting drunk. I believe there’s a spectrum of addictive people but I’ve never felt guilty for my coping mechanisms. It started with eating disorders that’s how I coped with life, then I cut, and now alcohol. I don’t feel ashamed of these things, I like them. I’ve managed to cut out ED and self harm but not alcohol it makes me feel so carefree and happy when the rest of my life has felt like shit. I haven’t been happy in a long time and my coping mechanisms as toxic as they are, help, so I love them for that. Since 14 (I’m now 25) I haven’t gone an extended time without a toxic coping mechanism unless you count when I was with my ex who I still love and felt a purpose with. I don’t really have friends, I work and drink, I love my cats and family but it doesn’t feel like enough to care. I want to be special to someone who isn’t family. Idk I just don’t know what to do. I know my drinking has gotten to worrying proportions but I just don’t care because I can still function to do what is required of me. I’m scared because I don’t want to stop because I can trust alcohol to not let me down unlike so many things in life, and honestly after having depression, PTSD from multiple things, anxiety, and secretly being queer in a super conservative family, as well as being poor and disabled, I feel like I deserve an unhealthy coping mechanism. Before you ask yes I’m on meds and have a therapist I love but she’s so good and sweet and I don’t want to disappoint her but telling her the truth. This was a huge word vomit because I just feel awful and I want to stop being so angry at myself but idk how to do that without giving up my addiction.

Hey there,

It can be so hard when we despise ourselves so much that we feel as though we need an addiction to help us through life. I know it’s hard but I would encourage you to speak to your therapist about this, the likelihood of her being disappointed in you is very low (like 1%) as her job is to help you and support you no matter what you may be going through or experiencing right now.

I too have had/ still have sometimes the same self-destructive coping mechanisms as you and I won’t lie, yes it is hard to stop and it is especially hard to say goodbye to the drinking but if this is what you truly want then it is possible to stop. I do still struggle with relapses every now and again and especially when I face huge life stressors or just miss that high, but with the support around you it is possible to limit the alcohol usage if this is what you want. Another thing I want to quickly mention about talking to your therapist is that she won’t make you stop drinking or taking away any of your ‘coping strategies’ as this is only something you can decide to do, but she can help to support you through the process no matter what you decide to do!

Despite having your family and your cats, it sounds to me that you need something else to help to fulfill your life. So in saying this, do you have any interests in life, anything that you can work towards doing that may help to give your life some meaning again? I know that your ex was really helpful for you but unfortunately, we cannot always depend on others to help us with what we are going through/ experiences. Yes they can definitely be of some help definitely but in the end in life there is only you who can make the big decisions and finding the will to keep going no matter how that may look like for you!

I really hope that this has helped a bit and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

I’m thinking of you and hope that you are going well!

Take care,

Lauren  

[jenthebug]

I posted 651 times in 2021

169 posts created (26%)

482 posts reblogged (74%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.9 posts.

I added 446 tags in 2021

#the nightly shitpost - 316 posts

#metastatic breast cancer - 35 posts

#i was tagged - 17 posts

#monthly dash cleanse - 13 posts

#my drawings - 13 posts

#new paycheck job - 12 posts

#the internet is for cats - 12 posts

#april fools shitpost - 10 posts

#reblogging for legit belly laugh - 9 posts

#parenting - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#i will lean into these affirmations 100% because i don't think they'll work and i have to give them a proper try to prove it

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I did the thing!

Went to the park, took pics of cute goslings (and other stuff), ended up walking for 30 minutes and thoroughly wearing myself out

^ I don’t know what these goth dudes are. Halp?

See the full post

79 notes • Posted 2021-05-19 23:48:39 GMT

#4

It is amazingly, incredibly difficult to be the parent when I feel like garbage. All I want to do is take the meds that knock me out, and be cancelled for the day.

The sink was overflowing with dishes. Like, I couldn't even make coffee...not that I want it, my tummy's not having that nonsense. Dishes are the one thing, besides my own messes, that are 100% My Job. Ugh. (This is exponentially better than living with my ex-husband, where all the cleaning was 100% My Job; Husband is a good adult and a good partner)

Jay had to wake up for school, of course, and he's feeling anxious. So it's up to me to put on a bright, caring, supportive face and hype him up... while gently pushing him toward his computer. Do the heckin thing, kid. I mean, "I'm sorry you're feeling so anxious. Just remember how many times you've done and survived this. Do your best today, and remember that your best may look different than it does on other days. Want a sparkling water to take your meds? Okay, I'll get you one. I love you! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡"

Husband is Jay's stepdad. He can technically help with the parenting. But he's a Level 1 parent: Please do the thing, please don't do the thing, I'll give you a ride, etc.

I want Level 50-something parenting help, like, let's fix your mental health, and keep you clean and fed and comfy and attending school while we do it.

Thanks for letting me power-bitch.

87 notes • Posted 2021-01-13 15:35:27 GMT

#3

I'm so fatigued. For a while today, I had to lay down because sitting in the recliner was too much. It's been affecting my mood, too.

Husband, knowing that I need some cheering up, got me these beautiful flowers!

Flowers aren't a great fatigue gift, because I had to put them in the vase, but that's okay because I love them. I'm smiling like a big exhausted dork right now.

112 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 00:14:54 GMT

#2

Today's fun thing: a little walk in unseasonably warm weather! This flower's all like "are we gonna go?"

112 notes • Posted 2021-11-17 06:17:40 GMT

#1

See the full post

130 notes • Posted 2021-05-10 19:27:04 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[ellaintrigue]

We need to stop forcing women into caregiver roles.

Here we are in 2022 and people are still enraged by women making choices. I noticed a while ago that the Me Too Movement was labeled a trend for attention-seekers but as many a wise woman pointed out, it's a chain effect where women felt safe about coming out about their assaults. I didn't feel ready to come out about my own until I felt empowered by other stories, and even then, when I told one person I know, he yelled, "IT WAS YOUR FAULT" in my face (in person, no online bullshit or exaggeration here).

Now I see child-free women also being regarded as a trend. One guy I talked to said it was pathetic how I and his sisters were all career-oriented and didn't want kids. He said it was terrible how society was driving away our natural maternal instincts.

But I never followed any trend. I have just never wanted kids. Even as a small girl I hated baby dolls and wanted Barbies. Babies didn't interest me at all but I was raised to one day get married and have kids. By age 16 I had formed my sexual interests, career ideas, and future goals, and very few have changed since then.

I told my mom that the other day and she snapped that I shouldn't base my life on something I felt when I was 16. But this isn't a crush on some boy or favoring a certain type of music, this is a personal choice with my body and life. Someone else said I must just not want to ruin my body with pregnancy. What on earth are you talking about? I'm already fat and have scars, the big scary aspect is to care for and be responsible for another human the rest of my life! I've simply never wanted that.

Then when I express all of this people become enraged with me and say I'm a bitter child-hater. I never even think about kids and I don't care if other people have kids. Never have. I don't feel anything one way or another. Now, I worked with children for 5 years at a retail store geared towards them and I definitely didn't like dealing with them but it wasn't hatred.

I could mention that as of a few years ago I can't even have kids but that seems to subtract from my argument that my choices are valid. Just like how men argue you have no right to reject them unless you have a boyfriend. Then they (usually) respectfully leave you alone. Oh, how I wish I could just exist and be respected without my uterus being a topic of debate by strangers. People question why women don't have kids but they don't ever nag men about it. Perhaps if men were constantly confronted by people asking where their kids were or when they were having kids they would be more respectful of women. One guy said, "you're just a hole with a pair of tits" when I defied him.

Another thing people don't realize is that I have already been responsible for other people and their pets, and I'm really burnt out. Starting at age 17 I was responsible for storekeeping and pleasing bosses and that continued for 11 years, even as my health started to worsen. In 2013 I met my former domestic partner who was a hot mess between his mental illness, addiction, and general chaos. My tasks ranged from propping him up while he was passed out drunk to make sure he didn't choke to death to taking him to dozens of therapist appointments and waiting patiently. He kept bringing home cats and dogs and I was the sole carer of them. he never once scooped a litter box and he only cleaned up dog shit off the floor once because poop in general grossed him out.

By the time that ended I was left with 5 cats and my horse that I had already had. With him it was 7 cats and 1 dog. Then coyotes came to the neighborhood, mauling 2 of my cats so they all had to be indoors. Giving meds, cleaning litter boxes, feeding schedules, the cost and general messes became even more stressful. Now I have 4 cats and decided in 2018 I no longer wanted more pets. My remaining ones will be loved and vetted until the end but then I don't want to deal with the bullshit anymore.

In 2019 my grandmother's health worsened. I had been looking in on her since my parents moved in 2013 but even small visits started to overwhelm me. Take out her trash, go to the store, buy her hearing aid batteries, unclog her toilet, take her to the doctor. This wasn't a constant thing, like twice a week but between that and working 12 hour shifts it put a toll on me. When she passed her neighbor loudly implied I never did anything for the old woman and that hurt.

Some days I feel so weak and sick I can barely take care of myself, I just feel so done with taking care of other beings. Now my mom is dying and I will do whatever she needs. And I will always be there for my dad who is also nearing 70. But that's it, no more cats (maybe just 1 in the future), no more dogs, no more horses, and no kids.

I am not a hater of children nor a child-free radical, I am just a woman who wants her peace and freedom back.

[holylulusworld]

The End

Summary: To get hold of Brock Rumlow, his nemesis Steve Rogers is not holding back. He will cross lines if he has to, even if this means to use Brock’s sister to take him down.

Pairing: Cop!Steve Rogers x Rumlow!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst, mentions of injuries, pregnant reader, language, scared reader, comforting, fluff

A/N: Just a short epilogue to end this series.

Love Undercover Masterlist

This is the end. The thought won’t let you go watching the doctor and nurse talk to Director Fury. Your throat tightens and you fear you will blank out any minute.

“He’s going to be alright, doll. Breathe, Y/N. Steve is too stubborn to die that easily. You’ve got no clue how strong your boyfriend is.”

Bucky runs one hand gently up and down your back while you try to get a glimpse of Steve when the door to his room opens.

“I…I need to see him, please.” Tearing up you look at the doctor who ignores you for the longest time. “I said, I need to see my man!” Your voice rises and the doctor's head snaps toward you.

“Doc, you better let that girl into Steve’s room. She’s his wife.” Bucky insists and you squeeze his flesh hand to thank him. “I am his brother and we want to see him. Right. Now.”

“Sir, we need to ask you to calm. Detective Rogers is in no life-threatening status. You can see him after my colleague checked his wound.” Your hands shake hearing the word ‘wound’.

“I am a doctor too. Please tell me what’s wrong with my husband.” Sniffling you feel like your legs are about to give in. “I want to know how he is!”

“Mrs. Rogers, I have to ask you to take a deep breath. You shouldn’t stress yourself in your condition.”  The doctor tries to reason with you but your stoic face and the angry look in your eyes tell him to fall silent.

“Only as I am pregnant doesn’t mean you can hide my husband’s condition from me. I want to see him. Right. Fucking. Now.” Even Fury flinches at your outburst when the nurse next to the doctor chuckles lightly.

“You heard my sister-in-law. We want to see my brother.” Bucky balls his metal hand into a fist right when the door to the room opens. 

Steve slowly walks out of the room, his bullet-proof vest in his hands he watches you and Bucky fight with the doctor.

“Doll? What are you doing here?” Steve mumbles when you run to his side to check on him. “Baby Girl?” Gasping you tug at his shirt to see three bullet holes.

“How bad is it, Stevie?” Sniffling you look up at your husband. “Are you in pain?” 

“Oh-Y/N. I got hit but three bullets, but my vest saved me, doll. I got one bruised rib and a few bruises at my back, nothing serious.” Steve gently places one hand onto your baby bump, a soft smile on his lips.

“How’d this happen? You promised you are a desk jockey now, Steve. You said that you will not risk your life anymore. Still, here we are in the middle of a hospital and you have three bullet holes in your shirt.” Lips quivering you look up at Steve.

“Doll, I promised I am a desk jockey. This was…revenge.” Steve sighs while he gently runs his hands up and down your arms. 

“A guy from my past, my time at the army believed he needs to blame me for losing his position at the team. He got arrested back then after me, Bucky and two others gave a statement.” Bucky grunts remembering Danny Leighton and his doings.

“What did he do?” Gently rubbing your belly Steve sighs. He thought, or rather hoped this part of his life lies in the past but as people say, ‘your past always catches up with you’. “Stevie?”

“We were on a mission around ten years ago. All of us were young, carefree, and got thrown into a war which wasn’t ours. 

One day we were at home, drinking beer and making fun – the next week we stood in the middle of a battlefield and were covered in blood.” Your husband’s voice cracks, and you know, he tries to shelter you.

“It’s alright, Steve. Just tell me what happened, I can take it.” His lips press a soft kiss to your temple, and you relax when he wraps his strong arms around you. “Stevie…”

“He did something a good man; a member of the U.S. Army should’ve never done. Let’s say he involved civilians in the war we were fighting. He was…”

“A bastard, Y/N. Sorry, punk but that’s the ugly truth. That man went into a village and killed innocent people, accusing them to be soldiers. Truth is – he killed three old men and two kids. There were a young woman and he…”

“Don’t Buck. She doesn’t need to hear all of it.” Bucky nods, giving his friend a sad smile. “I still blame myself for not being faster and stopping him before he had the chance to hurt people.”

“Steve, Danny was one sick lunatic. What he did was inhuman. You know it, the Colonel knew it and the judge knew it. I got no clue why they let him go.” Pacing around the hallways Bucky curses.

“It did not happen on U.S. ground. My word and yours stood against his. A smeary lawyer took over his case. Files disappeared. The girl's statement too and, in the end, – they let him go.” Steve runs his hands gently up and down your back when you rest your head against his chest.

“How’d he hit you? I mean, no one ever managed to sneak on you.” Bucky grins when Steve gives him a dirty look. “You’re getting old man, just saying.”

“He shot me when I walked out of the building. Good thing I showed the recruits how to use their bulletproof vest or …” 

Steve stops talking when you look up at him with fear in your eyes. “He’s dead and gone. That man will not hurt anyone ever again. I promise I’ll only train our recruits and do paperwork, doll.”

Sniffling you nod before you wrap your arms tightly around Steve. He smiles when he feels your seven months baby bump press against this abs. “Did your bump grow again?”

“Hey!” Head snapping upward you glare at Steve who has a smug grin on his lips. “I am pregnant with not one but two babies! I can’t help it when I get hungry all the time.”

“Detective, how about you bring your girl home and cook something nice for her?” Bucky snickers hearing your stomach growl. “She seems to be hungry again, punk. That’s your punishment for knocking her up with twins.”

“That’s no punishment, Buck.” Smiling Steve cradles your face to press soft kisses to your lips. “I’ll bring my girl home now.”

“How do you feel Steve?” Checking on his ribs you frown. “Does it still hurt? Can you breathe? Do you need pain meds?”

Steve smiles when you hover over him like a mother hen. He already imagines you barefoot running after his kids while he brings the wood to the fireplace. 

“Stop watching me, Rogers. I try to fix the mess you made.” Sighing you carefully straddle his lap to stroke his chest. “I was scared, Stevie. Never do such a thing again.”

“I promise, this was the first and last time you have to worry about me. Now let me check on you, wife.” Snickering you raise your shirt to show Steve your swollen belly. “So beautiful.”

“Don’t give me those eyes, Rogers! Two are the limit.” Steve rubs his hands over your belly, and you sigh seeing the look he gives you. “Steve.”

“How about I tell you about my dream…” Your eyes round when Steve starts talking.

“I see you chasing after our kids, barefoot as you forgot your shoes. I bring in firewood and we sit around the large Christmas tree I found for our family. Four kids sit with us and another is in your belly.”

“Steve…” Sniffling you press your lips to his. Steve just revealed his secret dream. Having a large family with you. “You have a breeding kink, baby.” 

“I just want kids with you, a family. Kitty can have more kids too.” Now you laugh as he looks at Kitty lie in front of the fireplace, surrounded by three other cats.

“Kitty will not want more kids. She’s getting old, Baby.” Humming Steve looks at your baby bump and your features soften. “Let us survive the twins and we can think about having more kids. I love you Steve and with you, I’ll have a football team.”

“Love you too, Y/N. Now tell me about your dreams…” Snuggling into Steve’s side, you pat his chest. “Doll?”

“I want to be married to the man I love. Check. I want to have a home with him. Check. I want to get pregnant with his kids after we are married for like five years. Check.” Steve hums when he presses a soft kiss to your hair.

“I think my dreams came true, Steve. I got a cozy home, my husband, two kids on their way, a job I love, and Kitty is still with us.” Smiling wildly, you look up at Steve and for the first time, you see tears in his eyes.

“I got all I want too, with you…doll...”

“Now that was what I call cheesy, but I love it…”

THE END...

Love Undercover Tags

@aubageddon91​​, @an-awkward-human-1​​, @the-soulofdevil​​, @s-t-r-i-k-e-us​, @taylortheeshowpony​, @captainchrisstan​, @shippers-heart​, @operation-spot​, @rentheanonymous​

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All works Tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

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@i-love-superhero

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@deanmonandnegansbitch

@sabascio

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@that-place-called-middle-earth

@the-broken-angel-13

@trumpettay

@zxph-yr​

@belovedcherry

@matsumama​

@rynabarnesrogers-reading​

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Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore​

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@officialmarvelwhore​

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Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@roonyxx​

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@heyiamthatbitch​

@rosalynshields​

[riotfuckery]

The fine line

Bakugo Katuski x lionshifter!F!Reader

A/N: Hello beautiful readers!!! Back again with a kinda shitty Bakugo x reader! Characters are 18+!! I have no idea how to write him so this is my first attempt. It’s kinda smutty but nothing too crazy. Just sexy descriptions and another badly described make out. PM me if you wanna be tagged in any of my stuff! Enjoy darlings! 🥰

Taglist: @queensynderella @trafalgar-temptress @birds-have-teeth @kingtamakimurder @thedreadthread

Warnings: sexy descriptions, implied sexy time, a badly described make out, getting called kitty, and calling Bakugo sexy and sinful

Thank you for all the love and support senpais💖💖

»»————-💥————-««

Blood boiled in your bodies as Bakugo panted on top of you. Both your wrists tightly held in one of his large hands as he pinned them to the ground. His mouth watering smell of smoky burnt caramel filled your senses as your own breathing became heavy.

Red eyes glared into yours menacingly, the feral smirk widening on his face as he leaned closer. He was silently challenging you, daring you to do something while you were in such a helpless position. The fire in your belly threatening to burn you alive as the blush on your face betrayed you, growling at him.

“Win goes to Bakugo. Next pair step up.” Aizawa’s tired voice called out from the edge of the ring.

Sparring. The one thing you can’t beat Bakugo Katsuki in. It frustrated you to no end, you were good at hand to hand combat, even beating Izuku and Shoto a few lucky times. But you could never beat him.

Everything about ‘Lord Explosion Murder’ pissed you off. The awful comments he made, the god complex he had, how he was always yelling, but the thing you hated the most about him was how fucking sexy he was.

Piercing crimson eyes on his handsome face paired with a body carved out of marble made by god herself drove you insane. The cherry on top of this sundae being the way he smelled. He smelled sweet, smoky, and sinfully delicious. It never failed to set a sweet fire in your gut while your blood boiled.

He moved off you and joined the bakusquad while you sat up and rubbed your sore wrists. You were still panting, the long sparring set you just had made you tired. Trying every move in the book, you placed your concentration into finding a way to throw him off. You couldn’t.

“Y-you did great out there (y/n)-chan!” Izuku’s sweet voice grabbed your attention, breaking out of your oncoming rage and frustration. He stood in front of you shyly with his hand out.

“Thanks Izu, I really appreciate it.” You smiled softly at him, grabbing his hand to help you stand up and continuing to hold it for a moment. Freckled cheeks turned pink at your pet name and the skin to skin contact. You gave his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and joining your friends with Izuku right at your side.

You both joined Shoto, Ochacko, and Tenya aka the dekusquad. You were friendly with everyone but you found your home in the dekusquad. They were kind, non judgmental, and overall good people.

You were immediately friends with Izuku from day 1. Your quirk wasn’t special but the species you shifted into was. The queen of the jungle, none other than a lioness. You had different forms, ranging from lion-girl to full blown big cat.

You were a force to be reckoned with. Armed with powerful muscles, excellent hunting skills, sharp eyes, sharp canines, an instinct to protect, and even sharper claws; you aimed to be hero. The skills and instincts you had earned you a spot in the top hero class of UA.

Izuku was your favorite and despite how powerful he was, you couldn’t help but dote on him. Large green eyes and chubby freckled cheeks awoken the lioness in you. You saw him as the the baby, even though he was taller than you.

Gently purring to him and running your fingers through his green curls were your favorite things to do in your spare time. Another reason you hated Bakugo, he hated on Izuku for no reason.

Verbal fights with Bakugo were a daily thing, continuing well into your 3rd year. Screaming and swearing at each other about the other persons attitude was just another part of your routine. You couldn’t stand the way he insulted your poor green bean.

“STUPID DEKU, I’M GONNA BE THE NUMBER ONE HERO! A NERD LIKE YOU CAN’T GET TO THE TOP NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY!” Bakugo’s rough voice insulted Izuku in the classroom.

Your golden lion ears twitched at the loud volume and irritation. Rage filling your nervous system as slitted (e/c) eyes med red ones, narrowing at each other. If he wanted a fight, I’ll fuckin give him one.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, BLASTY! WITH A NASTY ATTITUDE LIKE YOURS I DOUBT YOU’LL MAKE TOP 10!” You yelled back.

Standing up, you moved to stand in front of a terrified looking Izuku with claws out and teeth bared. You were willing to throw hands with anyone who would insult your classmates and Izuku was no exception.

Kirishima was already up and at Bakugo’s side, frantically trying to calm him down. Ochacko was doing the same at your side while Tenya was in the middle yelling and chopping away about fighting in the classroom.

“Please (y/n)-Chan! Dont start a fight in the classroom, you don’t want to wake up Aizawa-Sensei do you?” Ochako nervously spit out as she held your arm tightly with pinkies raised. The sound of popping from his one of his palms as the cursed scent of smoky caramel wafted through the room.

Never once breaking eye contact from each other, you decided it wasn’t worth it. With a growl, you retracted your claws and crossed your arms, challenging him to back away with slitted eyes. A rough ‘Tch’ came from Bakugo as he walked away and headed back to his seat, kicking his feet up on the desk like he always does.

Your brow raised for a moment in confusion. ‘How weird, he normally keeps going until we’re nearly throwing punches. Oh well, can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’ Was the thought running in your head. Brushing it off, you turned towards Izuku to make sure he was okay.

“T-thank you for defending m-me (y/n)-Chan. You really didn’t have to, I’ll beat Kacchan one day fair and square!” He started nervously but ended with determined tone.

You smiled softly and let out a low purr at the greenette. He was so adorable that you couldn’t stop yourself from cooing at him.

“I know Izu, but you don’t have to have to take his bad attitude laying down. You’ll be a great hero one day.” You said as you gave a pat to the wild green curls on his head.

He blushed at the small act of affection, covering his face with his arms as he placed his head down on the desk. A light chuckle escaped you at how shy he was around girls.

»»————-💥————-««

Two weeks passed by since your last fight with Bakugo and it wildly confused you. He didn’t pick on Izuku as much and a quick glare from you shut him up.

‘No fights? No screaming at each other? Why? We’re usually at each other’s throats. Maybe he’s been tired.’ You tried to rationalize to yourself as you sat next to Uraraka at lunch. It’s been quiet on the war with Bakugo, so quiet that it made you suspicious.

Lunch went by normally, making talk of studies and upcoming events with them. Just having a nice time with the dekusquad. Something just kept on bugging you on the inside, making you unable to to fully relax and eat your food.

Wanting to head up to the roof, you bid your goodbyes to everyone early. You needed fresh air to clear your mind. Throwing away your lunch and walking through the quiet halls eased the restlessness. You climbed up the old staircase and opened the creaky door to the roof.

It was empty, thankfully. With a sigh, you propped open the door with your school bag and padded your way to the middle of the roof.

Standing there for a moment, you inhaled the fresh air and relished in the quiet sounds of the city. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and focused.

The faint smell of the city mixed with foresty smelling winds put your unease at rest for now. Ears relaxing at the familiar sounds of cars driving by and students chatting about in different classrooms. You felt peaceful.

You stretched out your muscles, sighing when you heard the pops of your joints. Deciding to take a seat, you gently placed yourself down and bathed in the sun. It wasn’t too hot today and the light breeze kept it cool.

Quietly bathing in the sun, you were thankful for this peace. You knew you had 10 mins before the bell rang to go to class so you relaxed in the few minutes you had.

Unfortunately, peace never lasts. Loud and heavy footsteps came from the stairway, pulling you out of your little zen bubble. Those steps only met one person and it was the last one you wanted to be alone with right now. With a groan, you pulled yourself up and stood facing the doorway with crossed arms.

The door was roughly kicked open, causing the rusty hinges to squeak loudly. Golden ears twitched in response as slitted (e/c) eyes met red ones once again. ‘OF COURSE BAKUGO HAD TO DISTURB MY PEACE! WHY DOES IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE HIM!’ You screamed in your head while maintaining a poker face.

“Hey, you dumb cat. I gotta talk to you.” His rough voice called out. A last ditch effort to confess his feelings for you after a lot of convincing from the bakusquad.

You rolled your catlike eyes. ‘Dumb cat, that stupid nickname. I guess it could be worse’ you internally shrugged.

“Okay, and what do you need to say?” You quipped back, already fed up with this conversation.

“Tch! I like you, you dumb cat.” He mumbled, gritting his teeth and looking away with his hair covering his eyes. You spotted pink scratching at his cheeks.

Your brain crashed like an old computer. Standing here for a moment, you looked at him shocked.

‘Bakugo fucking Katsuki LIKES ME?!?!?!? WHAT? WHEN? WHY?! HUH?!?!’ Questions were flying through your head faster than the speed of light. All in a failed attempt to figure something, anything about this situation.

“HUH?!” You screamed out, it was all you can manage to get out with this newfound information.

“Do you need me to say it again, you stupid cat?!” He yelled out, cheeks now bright pink and body language screaming that he was clearly embarrassed.

“No Bakugo, I heard you just fine-“ you started, all the questions you had loading up like a bullets in a magazine.

“Katsuki” he interrupted.

Too frazzled to question it, you just kept going. “Uh- okay, Katsuki. I heard you just fine. But WHEN? WHERE? HOW? WHY?!?! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??? I THOUGHT WE HATED EACH OTHER?!” You yelled, still overwhelmed and clearly confused.

In your confused daze, he managed to strut his way right in front of you. Now face to face with with him made you even more confused. He brought his hand to your face and placed two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up and making you look at him. You stopped mid sentence, surprised by his bold move.

“I like you, dumb cat, because you’re strong. You don’t back down from a fight, you don’t take anyone’s shit, you’re a kickass fighter, and last but not least, you’re one sexy little kitty.” He smirked, his gravelly voice dropping a few octaves.

Dumbfounded and flustered was an UNDERSTATEMENT to how you felt. The sinful smell of smoky caramel once again started to cloud your senses as his burning red eyes gazed at you. A blush erupted on your cheeks at his praises but you held your ground. ‘I guess the line between hate and attraction was finer than I thought.’ You thought before you decided to believe him.

Managing to fight off the haze for a moment longer, you looked up at him. (E/c) eyes searched his own for anything besides the truth. Katsuki was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.

The haze once again came back as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, caressing it gently and almost protectively. His hand was large and very warm, it made you melt despite the red hot blush on your face.

He leaned in so close your lips were brushing. You flickered your gaze from his eyes to his lips, they looked slightly chapped but plush despite his rough mannerisms and attitude. Oh how you would love to find out if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Fuck it” you whispered, throwing caution to the wind before gently placing your lips on his. His lips were surprisingly skilled and tasted faintly of caramel. Eyes fluttering closed as the space between your bodies decreased.

The gentle kiss quickly became heated, his tongue prying your soft lips open as his large hands ran down your body and gripped your hips to bring you closer to him.

Tongues wrestled each other as you ran you hands up his clothed torso and made their way into his spiky blonde hair. It was soft, despite the style he sported. You let out a low purr at his actions, rough and incredibly dominant as he explored your cavern.

You gave it his hair a light tug to test the waters, earning you a low growl from him. You pulled away for much needed oxygen, now both of you panting and wildly blushing.

“So the great ‘Lord Explosion Murder’ couldn’t handle his feelings so he had to go picking fights with the girl he likes for attention huh?” You teased with a cocky smirk that rivals his.

“Shut up” he growled as he grit is teeth and looked to the side in sad attempt to cover up his embarrassment.

You slid your finger to his cheek and pushed his face till he was facing you once again. The smug smile on your face still plastered on there as you leaned closer to him.

“Why don’t you make me, Katsuki~” you purred, sharp teeth glinting in the light and a teasing playful smile on your face.

Another growl came in response as he crashed his lips against yours in a frenzied hungry kiss. Needless to say, you both didn’t make it to class on time.

BONUS: Aftermath

Various chatter from male students rang about the boys lockeroom as they switched from costumes to uniforms.

As Katsuki pulled his shirt off, long red and almost painful looking scratches were sitting on his muscular back.

“Woah! Bakubro! What happened to you?” The red puppy known as Kirishima asks concerned. Bless him for being so innocent.

“Just ran into a dumb cat, shitty hair. Don’t worry about it.” He spoke nonchalantly, well as nonchalant as he could get.

No one spotted the ever so victorious smirk on his face as he pulled his uniform shirt on.

[taylorswiftdiscographyrate]

#140-131

140. Starlight (5.688) Highest score was 8; Lowest score was 0 (@inweedsferociously) 

Taylor’s Kennedy fanfiction unfortunately doesn’t cut it for a lot of people. At a stretch, this song might be considered a precursor to The Last Great American Dynasty with its focus on historical storytelling. But where TLGAD has a strong thematic link to the rest of the album it belongs to (we’ll go more into that when we get to her!), Starlight is definitely an outlier in Red, and perhaps that contributes to the not-so-positive feelings towards it.

Highlighted comments: @inweedsferociously: “This song has always sounded super tacky to me and reminds me so much of the melodic composition of another song that already exists - hence the zero” @yourivysgrows: “She's cute but forgettable??” 

138. Untouchable & The Man (5.700) Untouchable: Highest score was 8; Lowest score was 3 The Man: Highest score was 9; Lowest score was 1

We have our first tie! Untouchable is the only cover that I included in the rate, and for good reason - Taylor transforms this song so much from the original that she was even granted a writing credit for it! Taylor truly made this song her own.

Highlighted comments: @corneliaavenue: “I dont think I can describe the disappointment I had when I learned this song was a cover”  @yourivysgrows: “I had no clue this was a cover but it's beautiful”

As for The Man, there’s a lot I could say about The Man, but I won’t because I’m not trying to start fights here (well, I am, but only the fun kind of fights, not the serious kind of fights). It is a delight to hear Taylor drop her very first instance of “bitch” in a song though! And irregardless of what you think of the music video, the makeup work in it deserves all the accolades.

Highlighted comments: @treacherousdemo: “the bridge is the saving grace of this one.. does not excuse the production though” (once again, we have something to blame Joel Little for) @corneliaavenue: “the lyrics are great, the production is god awful” (see above!)  @liabilitys: “i overhyped it when it first comes out. its a good song as long as we dont view it as a feminist anthem.” 

137. I’m Only Me When I’m With You (5.763) Highest score was 7.5; Lowest score was 3

It’s time for me to be mad again! If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from doing this, it’s how much you all play Debut and Fearless dust. This is a bop! It’s fun and happy and deserves better than you lot!

Highlighted comments: @yourivysgrows: “The personally made video 🥺” (yes! Here is the link for the uninitiated)

136. How You Get the Girl (5.772) Highest score was 8.5; Lowest score was 2

The best thing to come out of this song was the tour performance, to be honest. For a long time the love for this song in the fandom felt overblown because of it, but it seems like the hype has mostly died down to a regular level.

Highlighted comments: @yourivysgrows: “A manual that most men don't use sadly 😭”

135. epiphany (5.788) Highest score was 9.5; Lowest score was 1

Sigh... I suppose this was to be expected. epiphany has always kind of been the unloved child of the otherwise very-much-loved folklore parent album. I think this is a beautiful song that discusses death in a very nuanced and timely manner, but I can respect why this song isn’t for everyone.

Highlighted comments: @corneliaavenue: “as an online med school student, there is a lot that med school isn't covering right now” @yourivysgrows: “Had no right to make me cry”

134. Beautiful Ghosts (5.919) Highest score was 10; Lowest score was 0 (@itspeterlosingwendy)

This song’s biggest sin is that it reminds us that the Cats movie exists, and that Taylor willingly chose to be a part of it. And it’s very transparent Oscar bait (and transparent Oscar bait that didn’t even work, at that!). Be grateful that I didn’t force you all to listen to and rate Macavity.

Highlighted comments: @itspeterlosingwendy: “look.... it's just...... not good. i'll go a round with anyone who gives this higher than a 4″ (there’s plenty of you out there who did, who wants to volunteer for a 1v1 with maddie?)  @treacherousdemo: “if it weren't for "chonces" and being associated with cats this could've been like a 9 rip”  @liabilitys: “this fandom ignores this song sm but lyrically its such a good song!” (unfortunately i think that’s a consequence of us just ignoring the entirety of Cats lol) 

133. It’s Nice to Have a Friend (5.931) Highest score was 10; Lowest score was 0 (@tobesolonely)

In an album of bops and bangers, It’s Nice to Have a Friend stands out for its understatedness and non-traditional structure. It fits perfectly as the penultimate song on the album - after the rollercoaster that is the Lover tracklist, it’s a calm interlude before the final act of Daylight. In my mind, INTHAF is essential to the album, but alas, many of you are tasteless and here we are.

Highlighted comments: @tobesolonely: “this song literally just sounds incomplete and the disdain i have for it is unreal.” @yourivysgrows: “I like how different it is”

132. Teardrops on My Guitar (5.934) Highest score was 9; Lowest score was 1

Another example of Taylor holding nothing back and straight up naming this guy she had a crush on (and who already had a girlfriend!). The story about Drew eventually showing up at Taylor’s house after this song released, only for Taylor to be like “not interested anymore sorry!” is honestly hilarious. Poor Drew.

Highlighted comments: @itspeterlosingwendy: “it's just.... not it” @everfolk: “this song is such a banger and it STILL holds up today like the talent?? even on her debut album” @yourivysgrows: “Probably my favorite off of debut”

131. Everything Has Changed (ft. Ed Sheeran) (5.956) Highest score was 8.5; Lowest score was 1

The fandom’s hatred of Ed Sheeran rears its ugly head again, as this song places a lot lower than I believe it otherwise would. It’s funny to think of how positively people viewed Ed back in the Red era, when “Sweeran” was well-liked. As someone who neither likes nor dislikes Ed Sheeran, I do wonder if he and Taylor are still friends, and if not, how the rerecording of this one is gonna go.

Highlighted comments: @everfolk: [after giving the song a 1] “please im begging”  @yourivysgrows: “My favorite Ed x Taylor”

[kar3npage]

The 5 times one of the Foxes saw Andrew smile, and the one time all of them saw him smile

Because I love the 5+1 format, and because I just want Andrew and Neil to be happy. (Also I’ve decided that of course they would get married, because that just makes sense).

My apologies for any mistakes, this was written all in one go this afternoon and I was too excited to wait before posting. I’m also trying to sign up for ao3 so I can post it there, I’ll update when that happens:) 

Thanks for reading!

1.

The mood in the room was unusually somber before the Palmetto Foxes third game of the season. This was especially unusual because they weren’t expecting any sort of backlash, and the team that they were playing against was pretty tame. No one had any particular fear against the Terrapins and the two teams were mostly friendly.

Allison knew that the dark vibe was from the silence that came from the corner that Neil and Andrew sat in. 

Besides the cat fights with the new Foxes, everyone on the team has been working well together this year. The upperclassmen and Andrews group had an unbreakable bond from the events of last year, although they all pretended that they couldn’t care less about the other group (except for Matt. He couldn’t pretend to not care if his life depended on it, the sweet puppy).

Neil’s silence was accompanied by a far away gaze and sickly pale skin. Allison had already pulled him aside in the dorms to lecture him about playing while sick, but he insisted that he was fine. Allison had let him go, assuming that Andrew would take care of him. Now she was wondering if she should have pushed harder, since he looked absolutely determined to play today.

Renee’s soft nudge distracted Allison from their almost dead looking striker and she gave her an understanding look.

“I’m sure he’ll take care of himself,” Renee says quietly. Allison squeezes her hand, grateful to have her to lean against. She still wasn’t sure how Renee managed to understand exactly what everyone was thinking with such accuracy. 

“Okay people, we’ve gotten a strong start, let’s keep that up,” Wymack says gruffly, sending a concerned look toward Neil. “If any of you aren’t feeling up to it, tell me now so we can change the starting line-up.”

Everyone looks at Neil, who stares straight ahead like he hadn’t heard Coach. He turns his head to avoid Andrews dark look, then gets up stiffly.

“We done Coach? Dan and I would like to start drills soon,” Neil says. Allison snorts at his poor attempt at changing the subject, but Wymack just lets him go with a nod. 

As they make their way over to the court Allison sees Wymach snag Andrew. “You’ll keep an eye on him?” she hears him say. She doesn’t hear Andrew answer, but she knows that he will.

They’re up, 4-2, by the time the first half is done. Allison had kept her eye on Neil every time she was off, but he had looked fine while playing. Abby wasn’t able to check in with him during half-time though, too busy dealing with Jack’s minor injury that he had gotten from getting checked into the plexiglass. Allison had to admit that she had very little sympathy for the kid.

Everything was going fine until almost the end of the next half. Allison hadn’t been paying much attention to the health of her team while she was playing, focused more on actually playing, but no one could ignore the loud slam that came from near the other teams goal.

Allison instinctively looked toward the noise to find out who was down.

The game was still going, but slumped against the wall across from her was Neil. Allison didn’t hesitate to run over to him, abandoning the goal for Andrew to look after.

One of the Terrapins backliners stood beside him, helmet off and looking sweetly concerned. He starts babbling as soon as Allison makes it over to them.

“I swear, it wasn’t that hard of a hit,” he says frantically. Allison understood the panic-it had less to do with Neil and more to do with what might happen to the poor kid when Andrew got here.

Allison ignores him and tugs Neils helmet off to reveal his deathly pale face. His eyes start fluttering as he wakes up, and he’s able to put his hand up to stop the game. Allison hears a smack behind her, but she ignores it.

“Neil, where are you hurt?” she says. It comes out irritated, but she knows that Neil will get that it’s out of concern.

“‘M fine,” he mumbles, trying and failing to get up. Allison shoves him down and looks around for Abby.

The poor kid who hit Neil is being held against the plexiglass by a furious Andrew, Nicky and Aaron standing beside him and trying to talk him out of any blatant violence. Abby has fighting her way through the players with a mixture of anger and worry.

“Drew?” Neil says, eyes closed and head leaning against the wall. There’s another smack and a few seconds later Andrew shoves Allison out of the way to sit beside him. Abby shows up a few minutes later, but Allison stays where she is to use her body to give them a bit of a barrier.

“You idiot,” Andrew growls. “Next time, get up after you get hit.”

Neil gives him a feverish smile. “I’m sorry I worried you. I’m f-, I’m okay.” He just barely catches himself and Andrew shakes his head in irritation. Allison grins, a little relieved that he’s feeling good enough to catch his words. 

“Neil, do you know how high your fever is right now? You could kill yourself, playing like this. What were you thinking?” Abby lectures while she smooths back his hair. “Why didn’t you tell him to stop, Andrew?”

Neil grabs Andrews hand awkwardly, still wearing his armoured gloves. Andrew snorts. “You think I’m his keeper? He does what he wants. Junkie.”

Neil laughs weakly at that and lets Abby and Andrew support his weight as they get him up. Once he’s able to stand on his own two feet, the crowd lets out a supportive roar and Allison turns around to see Neil and Andrew. Andrew gives him a small, relieved smile, something that Allison never thought that she would see. No one had seen Andrew smile a single time since he’s been off of his meds. This smile is completely different. It softens his jaw, and even though it’s so small that it’s barely noticeable, Neil beams when he catches it.

She hears Andrew mutter a number under his breathe and they slowly walk off the court.

Allison could settle a few bets from this, but a part of her knows that she saw a private moment. Renee walks over to take over the goal and gives her a pleased smile, almost like she knew how selfless Allison was being by not telling anyone about this.

She grins back and relaxes, knowing that Neil is in good hands.

2.

Matt could cry, he was so happy to see his best friend after so many months apart. Dan squeezes his arm and lets him go give Neil a bear hug. All of them have graduated now, and Christmas is one of the only times that the original Foxes get to see each other, and even then it’s sometimes difficult to get everyone together. 

This year everyone is gathered at Abby’s, and it feels just like old times. Aaron and Katelyn are already helping Abby and Wymack in the kitchen and Nicky is regaling everyone with stories from Germany, Erik adding details every once in a while but mostly just looking at his fiance with heart eyes.

Allison and Renee are coming later, and Kevin is watching an Exy match on TV. His mouth is open slightly as he watches the rematch like he’s never seen it before. Andrew sits beside him with a bored expression while he scrolls through his phone, but Matt notices him glance up at them a few times while he chats with Neil.

Neil had mentioned how difficult it’s been to be playing on different teams than Andrew, and Matt can see how happy he is now that everyone’s together. He thinks that Neil’s been getting lonely.

The kitchen is a hive of activity and they all talk over each other as they catch up on the past year. Dan and Matt show everyone their engagement rings, way too excited to wait to tell everyone like they had planned. Matt swears that Wymack tears up a bit when Dan asks him to walk her down the aisle, and Abby just about breaks his back with how tightly she hugs him.

Andrew even offers them a nod and agrees to fly out with Neil for the wedding, even though they aren’t sure when it will be yet.

There’s more exclaiming when Allison and Renee get there and Allison shouts at them for not waiting to announce it until they got there. They look tired but happy after travelling all day, and Renee gives him one of her pleased, proud smiles. At some point Betsy had gotten there as well, and Matt sees her having a long conversation with Andrew in the living room.

Matt can’t believe how far they’ve all come. After such ruined childhoods and terrible experiences in University, they all managed to build themselves lives. Build themselves a family.

Matt feels so incredibly fond of them all that it feels like his chest is going to split, like it can’t hold all of the affection for these people.

Dinner is as hectic and happy as the rest of the day was, and they sit at the dining table for hours talking. Kevin and Neil have an in-depth conversation about their teams and their performance so far this season, which Andrew mocks and then turns to talk with Renee. 

Matt and Dan are talking over each other with the ease of people who are perfectly comfortable with each other as they tell Abby about their honeymoon plans, and Allison gives them tips. Or maybe they’re more like orders, but it’s all good ideas so they don’t mind.

It isn’t until after they’ve cleaned up the dishes and most of the Foxes have settled in the living room to rewatch some of their old matches that Matt gets the chance to talk with Neil on his own.

They skype as regularly as possible, and Neil calls him almost every week to get updates, but Matt has still missed him. 

When he notices Neil sneak out to the porch, he follows behind. 

“It’s hard to believe, but Kevin’s obsession hasn’t waned in the slightest,” Matt jokes as he plops down on the stairs beside Neil. The striker throws his head back to laugh and Matt revels in the warmth that comes with being able to make this once shy kid laugh his genuine, thrilled laugh.

“Andrew would say the same about me,” he says, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“He’s right. You’ve been playing well though, that goal in the last game where you hit it from half court was insane! I have the video saved to my phone so I can show people and tell them I know you,” Matt gushes, glad to finally be able to tell him how proud he is of him. Neil has a pleased blush on his cheeks.

“You still watch my games?”

“Of course I do! Dan and I’ve turned it into date night. We order pizza.”

Neils laughs again, more pleased than he would admit that Dan watches them too.

“How have you been Neil? For real?”

Neil fidgets with the bottom of his shirt. “It’s tough,” he finally admits. “Without Andrew. Our schedules are so different. There’s a chance that next year I might be able to switch though.”

Matt hums and bumps his shoulder against Neils. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to be lonely.”

Neil listens to Matt talk about Dan and what they’ve been up to for a while, and they sit in comfortable silence until Matt finally laughs. Neil gives him a questioning look.

“I have a ridiculous question for you that’s been plaguing me for years now.” Neil raises an eyebrow and waits for Matt to keep talking.

“So if you think that Andrews attractive, does that mean you think that about Aaron too?” Matts eyes are filled with mirth. He knows all too well the strained relationship that Neil and Aaron had through University, and also that they have just reached the point where they can talk about things other than Exy without killing each other.

Neil snorts, but then thinks through an answer much more seriously than Matt expected. “I’m not really attracted to people,” he says, then shakes his head and backtracks. “That’s not what I meant. Obviously I’m attracted to Andrew, and I think he’s beautiful, but it’s more because I know him so well and I trust him so much.”

Neil is blushing slightly at the admission and he looks to Matt to see if he understands what he means. 

“It’s hard to explain. I never was attracted to anyone before Andrew. I can see objectively that some people are nice looking, but it doesn’t really affect me. But I really care about Andrew, and I can talk to him for hours and I know what foods he likes and he knows what I like. And the longer we know each other and the more I know him, the more beautiful he gets. Does that make sense?”

Neil frowns and waits for Matt. Matt can’t help the soft smile that curves his lips. “Neil Josten, you are the sweetest person on this goddamned team, you know that? Yeah, that makes sense.”

Matt hears the door close behind them and turns around to see Andrew standing there with his usual blank expression, but his red ears indicate that he heard what Neil said. Neil beams up at him and Matt gets up to leave. He turns around to look at the two before he goes inside and is shocked to see the softest smile gracing Andrews lips before his sits down beside Neil. 

It’s no secret that most of the Foxes were worried about Neil choosing Andrew, of all people, to trust. But the longer they’re together, the more Matt realizes that Andrew is just as soft for Neil as Neil is for Andrew, he’s just better at hiding it.

Matt’s still grinning about that soft look hours later when him and Dan are getting ready to leave. 

“You two are good for each other,” he says quietly to Neil before they leave, and Neil rewards him with a thrilled smile and a nod.

3.

Playing professionally makes a lot of things very difficult to hide. Something about the sport has made it a fan favourite, and the interesting lives of the players mean that the general public is completely fascinated with hearing about their lives outside of the sport.

As much as Kevin hates how intrusive everyone can be because of this, he has to admit that it makes it much easier for him to keep his eye on the old Foxes. Articles about Neil and Andrew are ridiculously easy to find online, and Kevin has made a habit of checking on them regularly.

He’s doing just that when he finds an article about Andrew getting noticed after his flight to New York. The journalist muses about why on earth he would be going to New York, a place that holds none of his family, only his long time rival, Striker Neil Josten. 

What makes his trip even more interesting is the fact that the same long term rival picked him up from the airport.

What made Kevin look at this article with such interest was the picture that was attached to it. It’s obviously been taken with a good camera, since the photo is crisp and clear. In the center stands Neil and Andrew, standing only an inch apart. The crowd behind them is blurred out, making the photo look like a scene from a rom-com. Neil is beaming at Andrew and tugging his bag from him, eyes sparkling. What caught Kevins attention is the small quirk in Andrews lips, something that would be too small to call a smile on anyone but Andrew.

Kevin still has a protective streak for the two boys and wants them to have as easy of a life as possible, but he can’t deny the fact that they seem happier than they ever have been.

Kevin can’t remember the last time that he saw Andrew have a real smile that wasn’t violent or caused by medication.

He re-reads the article, then looks back up at the picture. Is this journalist stupid? He thinks. The whole article is about how Andrew must have come for something else, how their thrilled expressions must have been because they were mid-roast. Kevin can’t believe the journalist didn’t immediately realize that they were dating. He sighs and moves on to the next article, this one about Jeremy, but his mind keeps going back to the content smile on Andrews face. They’re going to be outed if they don’t stop making each other look so happy, he thinks. But he also thinks that maybe that’s not as bad of a thing as he’s made it out to be.

A few minutes later he goes back to the article and sends the link to Nicky without any explanation. He thought that might make Nicky happy.

4.

“I’m glad we still have the skype dates. I know Andrew and Neil are so busy right now,” Erik says, playing absentmindedly with Nicky’s hair as they wait for the boys to answer their skype call.

They’ve been having these weekly conversations with first Neil and Andrew, and later Aaron and Katelyn as well, for months. They had originally just called each other, but Nicky missed seeing his cousins more than he could say. He loves Germany, and he loves every single moment with Erik, but it’s still tough to have such a long distance relationship with his family. Especially after everything they’ve all gone through together.

It was harder to keep in contact with the other Foxes, but they all did their best to meet up for Christmas (everyone even came to Germany a few years ago. Nicky cried with joy, even though Andrew insisted it was just because everyone wanted to see Europe), plus he often got texts from Matt and Renee. And every once in a while he gets an Exy article from Kevin.

Nicky hummed in agreement and watched the screen with anticipation. They had missed last weeks skype call because Neil and Andrew were finally moving in together after signing for the same team in the fall. Nicky has been vibrating with excitement to see the apartment, and Erik has been waiting to ask for tips about taking care of a cat from Neil.

When the screen finally pops up, it’s obvious that Neil and Andrew haven’t noticed it yet. Neil is laughing about something, one of his rare laughs that is unforced and filled with true joy. And Andrew, Nicky’s beloved, terrifying cousin is beaming. It’s the biggest smile he’s seen on his cousins face for years, and it’s the first time he’s ever seen him smile with such true happiness. Nicky could cry, and when he turns to look at Erik, he can see that his eyes are shining as well.

Erik clears his throat and Andrew schools his expression as he turns to the screen. Neil is still looking at Andrew with pure love, but he waves to the screen.

A flash of silver derails Nicky’s thoughts even further.

“Neil. Neil, what is on your hand?” He asks, delight evident in his voice. Neil smirks and holds up the other hand, which has nothing on it. Andrews lips quirk.

“No, your other hand. Is that a ring?!” Nicky is almost bouncing, waiting for Neil to stop teasing him and show him the simple silver band that sits, unassuming, on his finger. 

Neil shows him his other hand without hesitating, and Nicky realizes that they’ve already talked about telling him. It makes his heart grow bigger than it already is.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh, are you guys engaged? When did that happen?” Nicky practically shrieks while Erik gives them a heartfelt congratulations.

Andrew’s expression is as bored as ever, but Nicky doesn’t miss the fact that they’re holding hands under the laptop. 

“A few days ago,” Andrew says nonchalantly. The tips of his ears are pink though, and Neil can’t hold in the grin.

“Hows Germany?” Neil asks politely, and Erik laughs.

“There’s no way Nicky will let you change the subject that quickly,” Erik says, and Nicky nods effusively. 

“How did this happen? I need the entire story Andrew! Or Neil, whoever will actually give me the details. Who asked who? Did you cry?”

Neil laughs again. “We asked each other. We had a long conversation about it.”

Nicky wishes that he could tease them for that and call them boring, but he knows what a huge deal this is for his cousin. He’s thrilled that Neil understands that as well. 

“You guys are so good for each other,” Nicky says, sniffling a bit. Andrew rolls his eyes.

“I’m hanging up now,” he says.

“No! I need to hear what you’re doing for your wedding! Maybe I can help you plan it. And Allison can too! It’s gonna be so amazing.”

Neil laughs as Andrew reaches his hand out in slow motion to close the computer. Neil’s voice reaches them as the camera goes down.

“We’re going to have a party, we’ll figure out a time you guys can come out, okay?”

Erik confirms that because Nicky is too emotional over the fact that they’re planning the time around him. 

He leans his head against Erik’s shoulder and Erik smiles. 

“I guess we’ll have to wait until next week for an apartment tour,” he says, and Nicky can hear the smile in his words.

“I never thought that he would be happy. Isn’t that sad? I wasn’t even sure if Andrew would be talking to me for this long. Then this scrappy puppy comes along and puts us all in danger and makes us all love him, and here we are. No one ever would have guessed this in a million years.” Nicky says thoughtfully.

That night, Nicky falls asleep with the picture of a truly happy Andrew in his mind. 

5.

As much as he tries to convince his old Foxes that he’s a grouchy old man who doesn’t care, Wymack spends a lot of time checking up on his kids. 

He’s been to as many of Kevin’s games as he can possible fit in whenever they’re close enough and he doesn’t have a game on, he video calls Nicky as often as he can (keeping weird hours makes this easier, and Nicky and Abby both lecture him regularly about getting enough sleep), and Dan and Matt live close enough that they have dinner together regularly. Renee and Allison move around too often to make it easy to see them, but everyone ends up together at least once a year. They avoid doing it on Thanksgiving (Andrew and Neil prefer to keep that one quiet, and no one argues with that). Aaron and Katelyn have even come out to see them a few times when their schedules weren’t as hectic with the hospital.

The hardest ones to get to see are Andrew and Neil. They spent a few years doing long distance with both playing on different teams, so every time they had time off they spent it together. Wymack wishes that he could have lived closer to Neil, he knows that those years were particularly difficult on him.

Now that they are living together and on the same team, it’s been easier for them to get in contact with everyone, but they’re still moving around too often for it to be easy to visit. 

Last year they detoured to stay with Abby and Wymack for a few days during their annual summer road trip, and having Bee there meant that Andrew has come out a few extra times to stay when Neil was busy with press.

Wymack tries very hard to convince them that he couldn’t care less about how often they come out to visit him, but they all know that he misses them terribly.

To keep a closer eye on them, Wymack and Abby recorded all of their games, and Wymack secretly watches youtube videos with names like ‘Neil Josten’s Best 10 Roasts’ and ‘10 Minutes of the Josten Minyard Rivalry’. He does not miss dealing with the press after Neil’s been let loose, but he feels a bit of pride every time he rips into a deserving journalist after being asked about his scars. If Wymack could kick everyone’s ass who hurt his kids, he would. Since he can’t, watching them get demolished by a tiny redhead has to do.

For the first time in a few weeks, Abby and Wymack are finally watching a game live. It’s always a lot more stressful watching them live, but they make up for that by ordering Chinese and making an evening of it.

They barely talk through the game other than to insult the other team or praise a good save or goal. The second half as just started when an aggressive striker doesn’t stop at the goal lines. The entire court goes silent and Wymack watches with barely controlled terror as Neil sprints across the court just in time for Andrew to hit the wall. Neil shoves the striker away with more venom than Wymack has seen from him since Riko and turns his attention to the goalie currently lying on the ground.

“Come on Andrew, get up,” Wymack whispers as he watches Neil fling his helmet off and protect his prone form while the medical staff make their way over. The sports announcers are frantic as they explain what just happened and Abby groans in irritation as they show a slow motion recap of Andrew getting hit, then of Neil protecting him.

Wymack clutches his phone and enters the number of their coach before he’s even thought it through. He knows it isn’t likely that he’ll answer, but he’s disappointed when it goes to voicemail anyway. Beside him Abby is calling Neil.

It takes almost 30 long minutes before Abby gets through to Neil, and she immediately puts it on speaker phone so that they can both speak to him.

“Neil, is everything okay?” Abby says, concern leaking through her words.

“I’m… I’m not sure yet. I’m at the hospital? And I’m waiting for the doctor,” Neil sounds shocked, voice dull.

“Which hospital are you at? We’re flying there as soon as we can,” Wymack says, and Abby nods, grabbing his phone to book tickets.

“Umm, I��m not sure. One minute,” they can hear mumbling while Neil asks someone where they are and Wymacks heart aches for the poor kid. 

“Okay, we’re just at the New York Hospital.”

“I booked our tickets, we’re leaving in an hour okay?” Abby says as soothingly as she can. “We’ll call you when we get there.” Wymack says in lieu of a goodbye.

By the time they make it to New York they each have a few messages from Neil saying that Andrew’s going to be fine, he has a concussion and they’re keeping him for observation, but he’s okay. The relief is palpable after the tension through the flight, and Wymack is glad that Neil thought to tell them.

It’s early in the morning when they get there, so they sleep at a hotel for a few hours while waiting for visiting hours.

It’s far more complicated to get into the room than Wymack thought that it would be. They have to convince the staff that they aren’t journalists or well meaning fans before they’re brought up to the room, and Abby has to show them family photos from Christmas with Neil and Andrew before the nurses decide that they are allowed to see Andrew.

Wymack’s glad for the security but he curses at all the journalists for making it so difficult. They crowd them when they realize who they are visiting, and it takes a security guard and a lot of glaring to part the crowd so they can follow the nurse.

“Can you confirm the Josten Minyard relationship?” One journalist shouts as they walk past.

“Coach Wymack! Coach Wymack, is it true that Minyard’s injury is far worse than they are letting on? And what do you think that means for the team?” another journalist shouts, microphone shoved unceremoniously in his face. Abby pulls him behind her and gives him a warning look not to say anything.

The hallway where Andrews room is located is blissfully calm after the storm downstairs. The nurse indicates which room he’s in, then moves on.

Abby pauses in the doorway and motions for Wymack to step beside her, a look of contentment on her face.

In the room Neil is perched on the bed beside Andrew. He’s a bit pale but there are no visible cuts or bruises and he looks mostly alert. They’re hands are twined together, the silver engagement bands catching the light.

Neil is saying something in a low tone and Andrew squeezes his hand. His mouth tilts up at the corners and looks at Neil with something close to adoration. Wymack tugs Abby away from the door and takes a few steps back to give them their privacy. He texts Neil to tell him that they’ve made it in, and a few minutes later Neil peeks out the door to great them.

He looks exhausted, hair mussed and dark circles under his eyes, but his face brightens when he sees them.

Abby gives him a tight hug before going to sit in the chair beside Andrew who has his usual bored expression. Wymack stops beside Neil and squeezes his shoulder.

“I’m proud of you, kid,” he says, feeling a little choked up. Neil looks up in surprise.

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

Wymack grins and pats his shoulder before going in to greet Andrew.

“Next time, get back up after you get hit,” he says gruffly to the tiny blond. Andrew raises a brow.

“Did I worry you, old man? You’re getting soft with age.”

Wymack grunts and sits down in the other chair near the foot of the bed. “Not worried, just annoyed. Kevin’s called me 3 times since I got up this morning to make sure you can still play.”

“He’ll be back in a few weeks,” Neil says while he takes back his post at Andrews side. Andrew rolls his eyes and mutters ‘junkie’ under his breath.

Wymack wishes he could be irritated at the long night and unnecessary panic, but he feels so content being in the same place as his kids that his gruffness is softened.

+1

Neil surveys the apartment from his spot in the kitchen. They’re 1 bedroom apartment is not nearly big enough to comfortably fit everyone in, but no one is complaining about the small space. Even Andrew isn’t feeling claustrophobic yet (Neil keeps checking on him, but he seems happy chatting with Aaron and Kevin on the sofa). True to promise, they did throw a wedding party at their apartment, and they made sure that it was at a time that Nicky and Erik could come out to see them. 

However, it took multiple arguments to convince Allison and Nicky that they didn’t need anyone to plan it and that they were just going to get married at the courthouse. Neil’s pretty sure that it was more Renee and Erik than his arguments who made them let it go. No matter what, Neil couldn’t be happier with how everything has turned out.

King winds himself around his ankles, meowing indignantly about the noise in the place and Neil smiles fondly at her.

Matt and Dan are swaying to the music near the balcony door, lost in their own little world. Beside them sway Renee and Allison, and Renee catches Neils eye to smile proudly at him. After Nicky, her and Allison were the next ones they told about the engagement. Andrew had mentioned that it was Renee who convinced him that marriage wasn’t always a bad idea, and Neil couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful for that.

Beside him stood Abby, Wymack, and Bee. Bee has been around long enough that Neil is able to accept her, and he’s glad that Andrew was able to find someone that he trusted so much. Neil has also been going to a therapist, but something about knowing Bee while he was going through everything made it too uncomfortable for him to talk to her. He found someone in New York instead, and Bee seemed so thrilled that he’s managed to open up to someone other than Andrew that Neil almost liked her a little bit. It’s tough to find someone who is genuinely happy about your healing.

Katelyn is laughing with Thea about something, and Erik and Nicky are in the corner cooing over Sir, who is soaking up the attention. 

Neil can’t help but think about all of the trials and tribulations it took to get to this point - the time in the Ravens Nest, the terror of Baltimore, all of the panic attacks and rough nights and foggy days. Neil never thought that he would live through his first year of University so every year after that has felt both like a gift and borrowed time. It took until the past year for Neil to wrap his head around the idea that he might be able to live until old age.

That thought was both a relief and terrifying, just because he wants it so badly. Andrew has helped him pull through multiple panic attacks just thinking about it.

Neil knows that there will be other challenges ahead of them (even though they really deserve a happy 20 years to make up for the bad ones), but he thinks that they’ll be much easier than the crap that’s gone on before this.

He catches Andrews eye across the room. They’re both wearing the suits they got for the occasion and Neils eyes have been tracking Andrew all night. He’s noticed that Andrews have done the same thing for him.

Aaron realizes that Andrews attention has strayed and he turns his conversation to Kevin. Neil and Aaron’s relationship isn’t exactly great, but they’ve managed to get to the point where they can go for coffee without hating each other by the time they get home. Neil knows that Andrew appreciates the effort both of them make, even though he’s never said anything about it.

Neil watches as Andrew gets up and makes his way through their friends, no, their family to get to him.

He watches the crowd impassively beside Neil while Neil watches the small twitch at his lips and the fond look in his eyes. 

“Staring.”

Neil grins. “I guess you’ll have to do something about that, won’t you?”

Andrew’s jaw tightens where he tries not to smile. Neil feels the glow of accomplishment. My husband thinks I’m funny. He tries to keep his expression calm, but he can see from Andrews pink ears that he’s watching him with as much love as he feels.

Abruptly Andrew holds out a hand. “Yes or no.”

Neil isn’t quite sure what he’s asking, but he puts his hand in Andrews without hesitation. “Of course.”

Andrew leads him over to a quiet spot near the hallway and places Neils hands on his shoulder. He grabs his waist and starts to sway to the music. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what? Like I love you? Because I do,” Andrews ears go red and Neil smirks, feeling very proud of himself for making Andrew blush. 

“You’re a pest,” Andrew says.

“Yeah, but I’m your pest.”

And Andrew laughs. Neil almost trips in surprise. He can feel the eyes of the rest of the party on them, but he can’t tear his eyes off of Andrews smile. 

“Yes or no,” Neil says.

Andrew’s still smiling. “Yes, Junkie.”

Neil kisses Andrews forehead, not wanting to get rid of that beautiful, perfect smile. There’s a flash and Neil turns around to see Nicky holding a camera.

“This is going on the wall! I’m framing it,” he announces, and Andrews glare holds barely any heat.

A few weeks later, when the package from Germany comes, Neil can see how pleased Andrew is with the photo. It sits in a simple silver frame, and they hang it above the sofa.

Neil feels very much like he lives a charmed life.

[dharmadischarge]

Annunaki chapter 1

"Dying is a wild night and a new road."

– Emily Dickinson

"Love never dies a natural death."

-Anais Nin

"We all float down here."

-Pennywise, the clown.

1

Cynthia "sam" Lynskey: was a chubby, tired librarian. Who had been looking for a fix. "I am in control,"; she wanted to tell herself, yet she knew this was a regret waiting for honesty to validate it. She is standing in the hall of a house, Out in the hills. The lights are grim with heavy shadows. Heavy contrasts of black and glowing gold highlighting whites of skin.

The preacher and his family were squatting in a dilapidated hell-hole they called home (or at least a place of business which, if we were honest, that is kind of what home is). The walls had holes from punches in the plaster with splintering cracks. Roaches that were long-dead sprinkled across the carpet that is piss-yellow from decades of nicotine stains.

A single couch in this room and a stained mattress her eyes are locked onto in the next room. That Sam is uncomfortably familiar with; she was responsible for some of those stains—over six months of talking herself down from sobriety, talking herself down from pride or dignity.

The couch was near the entryway, with a trinity of sleeping, dirt-covered "white trash." One child, the rest could be anywhere from twenty to forty years old. Sam's clean floral dress and translucent scarf aligned her with a world of, "I am fashionable even if it looks like Sunday best for the Walmart crowd."

She was waiting next to the preacher's bedroom, which in her mind meant that she would be eating out his wife tonight. "if I have to fuck two of you," she thought, "then I better get double." Out of a kind of politeness, Sam started to cough, looking at the women sitting on the couch before saying,

"you look good tonight, jenny."

The door opened to a short fat man wearing a black colored button-up shirt and a straw hat fedora before the women could respond.

"Hi, preacher," said Sam.

"hey," he said, standing to the side so she could enter.

Sam walked into the room, anxious and excited. She had been out of her meds for most of the day and agitated at a world that didn't seem to hurt as much as she did. The excitement left, however, when she saw the kid in the corner of the room. He had a nervous smile.

"who's the kid? and why is he here?" Said Sam glaring with evident frustration at the preacher, who didn't seem shaken from her exclamation

.

. "I'm, no fucking kid," The kid's voice shook.

The preacher said, "calm down, boy." then he looked at Sam, "It's his birthday."

and turning red in the face, she whispered, "so?"

"how much you have?"

"Just a twenty? but we had an agreement."

"and we still do, Just it's not me. It's the kid,"

"I'm not a kid,"

"How old is he?"

"he just turned eighteen. Now before this gets any more awkward, James, show her your id."

The kid listened and did what he was told.

"it says July 12. That's today," said Sam.

"You wanted a ladder? I'll give you that and two oxie."

"I want it in advance," Said Sam.

"no." said the preacher, but he reached in his pocket and pulled out a joint. He lit it, taking a hit, holding it out to Sam while he said, "we have a deal?"

She said nothing but took a hit off the joint held it in so long when she finally breathed again. There wasn't all that much smoke. She looked at the kid and held it out to him. His legs were shaking as he walked over to her. Then he sat on the bed.

The preacher said, "I will square it off when you're finished." then left, closing the door behind him.

She rubbed his shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed his neck. "let me see your tits." he said red-eyed. "she didn't say anything but pulled down the front of her dress. Awkward hands fumbling towards violence, pinched, and fished.

"Hey, you're hurting me." said Sam

"shut your face," Said James.

"This isn't working," said Sam, facepalming.

"Hey, come on, I'm sorry." then he stood up, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Just lay down, kid," she said. "I will do the rest."

He lay back, and she took his small sour cock in her mouth and began with eyes closed to fulfill a bargain. And when he was hard, she said, "Let's get this over with." lifted her skirt. Her pussy had stubble where she had shaven it yesterday. She laid back and guided him into her. Her distracted mind was saying, "you pull out, this isn't an all cum served buffet." he went on humping while she covered her eyes with arms. After ten minutes, she felt him squirt it off and then kiss her lips more fragile than she thought him capable of while all evidence of decency was gone when he continued to grope and play with her despite the tears.

Sam wiped his mess off of her, not hiding any disgust, and waited for the preacher to get her pills. The kid gave the preacher deliberate and obvious a self-assured smile and walked out.

"So who was he?" said Sam,

"James? He is my sister's boy. his dad thought he was a queer, and they ask for a favor."

"so what was I? his birthday present?" Said Sam.

"no, can't give away what you don't own; your more like a runt that is almost useless with its mouth taped shut so the fighting dogs can get a taste of blood." Said the preacher.

Hair frazzled, she tried to straighten it up and saw James sitting on the porch's warped stairs. He was smoking a self rolled cigarette; he didn't look at her.

"Those will kill you," she said, going by.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," said James.

"I let you do it, so don't worry about it," said Sam.

Then, as if he was trying to impress her, he looked up to the sky and said, "there are not even any stars, no sir, not tonight."

She got in her car, turning the key, a rough idle than the reverse. She saw him in her headlights, still on the front porch as she drove off into the darkness and was comforted by it.

2

The drive home was pleasant enough — the whitewashed walls of her house revealed itself through the tall grass around it. Sam's life was in the valley, where the mountains glowed on the horizon. With the majority of civilization hidden behind walls of a prison. The privately-owned prison/factories of indentured labor.

"shit," said Sam as she paid closer attention to the lights from the city hiding the stars. Dreamy, stoned eyes and a whisper of "it ain't that bad."

She saw the black cat for the first time while making her way up the creaking stairs of the porch. She did a dance of cracking the door and "shoo, shoo, I got nothing for you." trying to escape from its overt friendliness. The way it tried to rub against her shin as she ascended the stairs. Following her from the first of her "shoo's."

In a magnificent leap, it landed on her back, climbing up her dress, running over her bare shoulder, and leaping as she leaned down to pick up her keys. the door is pushing open as she reached for the black cat, Sam saying softly, "oh, damn it."

She lit the lamp and looking for any glare of reflection in the black cat's eyes, hoping it would give away the location that it was hiding in. She said, "oh fuck you," then Sam exhaled in exasperation. "You can, fucking stay, but I am getting high and going to bed." she locked the front door then went upstairs carrying the lamp to her room.

"Cynthia, why do they call you, Sam?" The voice was scratchy, calm, and with no visible source. Sam sat down the lamp on her end table and went back down the stairs.

"excuse me," she said, looking around.

Then she reached for the drawer that held the revolver; her father had owned before his passing. There she saw the black cat, sitting on the kitchen counter, staring into her eyes out of the darkness, and it started to sing. "jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care. Jimmy cracked corn, and I don't care, the monster's gone away."

Then she saw a spiral of smoke, and the cat was gone.

"Sam?" said a voice behind her. "is this what you were looking for?"

she felt the barrel push against her spine. "Maybe," she said, embarrassed that she had said anything.

The gun pulled away, and she heard a chair drag across the floor beside her.

"Sit down, please." said the voice.

Sam sat down and crossed her arms on the table. Walking casually to the chair opposite her, she saw something not human, but at least humanoid.

"I'll be staying awhile," it said. but was then noticing how wounded she seemed.

"It's for your good," then it held up the gun, and it turned to dust in its hand.

"he laced me with LSD? Didn't he," she said to herself.

"no, I am not a hallucination." said the thing,

"what are you?"

"I am a god or a monster, you could say. I'm not from here. You can call me Teki, and I am a cosmic tourist."

"tourist?" said Sam.

"If you are going to ask a question, you really should ask less ambiguously...for example. What is a cosmic tourist?" after a painfully long silence, he raised his scaly eyebrow and leaned forward as if to say, 'are you serious?'.

Sam, surprised, said, "I'm sorry; I am a little high right now."

"don't let me stop you go on ask your question."

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole, even aliens?"

"Why does everyone have to be an asshole? That is a good question."

Then he held his chin as if in deep thought, rubbing his gill-like whiskers. "maybe that is the core of tourism? I might just be looking for someone to surprise me. someone to make the whole mess worth it" then, clapping his hands together once he said, "it's settled; you will be my new passport."

"So, What does that mean?" said Sam.

"Well, my last one died, so I have been stranded for over a month in this hell hole. looking for his replacement, but luckily I found you."

"Your passport died?"

"My former one, yes, but I am hoping to replace him"

"I am a person, not a passport."

"A passport has to be a person. It is the nature of passports to be conscious and alive. Though your feeble human mind can't comprehend much, that isn't your fault. But alas, there is the downside of traveling to these obscure corners of the zoo. If your passport dies, then well, you are stuck with a serial killer monkey, for forty or fifty years."

"Fuck you."

"oh, come on, you will have a better life than here. Didn't you ever find it strange that a hundred-foot wall surrounded your whole tiny world?"

"well yeah."

"Well, now you get to go beyond the wall! Think about it; there is a universe out there, and not all the stars are artificial like in the zoo."

"can I think about it?"

"no!" he said with a smile.

"your first job is to dispose of this body," he said as he opened the closet door revealing a shriveled grey octopus creature with humanoid legs and eyes.

"Can't you make him disapear? Like you did my dad's gun?" said Sam.

"I could, but this little fella was with me for almost a century, and he deserves a burial."

"you do it."

"I," said Teki, with false pride, "am a God, and we don't do manual labor."

"well, I am tired, and that is just as good a reason," said Sam.

"Well, he doesn't have any bones...let's go burn him in the yard. Just know that your funeral will be just casual."

"he's your friend. Why am I supposed to be sniveling." Said Sam. Teki, in his first sincere moment, looked at her emotionless, and picked up the tentacled creature, and carried him out to the front yard.

After he laid the alien down, a suit appeared over his sexless body, and he solemnly closed his hands together. Him standing in his new funeral attire before his expired passport. With eyes closed. With startling immediacy, he raised his hands and said, "let there be light!" and the dead creature was in flames. Sam sat on the porch for awhile but was told by Teki, "it could take a few hours for this guy to cook down. You get some rest, and I will see you in the morning." So that is what she did, curled up under her quilt. She thought about how she would kick the preacher's ass for lacing her drugs with hallucinogenics.

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Fall for Me, boy~ (Morisuke Yaku) [1-2]

Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Slice of Life ☁

Word Count: 3,210 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Yaku ☁

World: Haikyuu ☁

Author’s Note: If you enjoy a sassy, boss-ass-bitch Y/N, then boy are you in for a treat lol Honestly, I had so much fun writing this, I hope you guys enjoy it and give Yaku some much needed love! I’ll try and get part two finished soon~

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“Please, Y/N?” Hinata clapped his hands above his head and bowed at the waist, eyes screwed shut as if that would somehow help his cause.

“Please!!” Noya and Tanaka chorused, following their underclassman’s example.

You sweatdropped, glancing at Suga for help, but he was clearly on their side, offering you a smile as he clapped his hands together in front of his chest. “Traitor,”

He chuckled in response. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun. Don’t you want to support your favorite boys?”

Your eyes scanned Karasuno’s gym. Aside from the three idiots in front of you and Suga beside you, Kageyama and Asahi were practicing against Daichi and Tsuki, trying to get their sets in sync in case substitutions were needed. Ennoshita was near the back of the gym, throwing the ball toward Kinoshita and Narita, who were taking turns receiving it. Yamaguchi was, of course, watching Tsuki play even though he was supposed to be cleaning up the water he had spilled. And, like always, Suga was right. You didn’t care for volleyball in the slightest – you didn’t understand the game and it just felt boring to you, but the boys of Karasuno’s volleyball team had wormed their way into your heart like a parasite that meds just couldn’t get rid of.

Asahi caught your eye as he landed on the ground and he smiled softly before turning back to the game. With a defeated sigh, you turned back only for your eye to twitch at how close the three had gotten to you, their bright, hopeful expressions nearly blinding you. Suga tried to stifle his laughter by masking it as a cough.

“For fuck’s sake, fine!”

“Yes!” The three teens jumped at you, sending all four of you toppling over onto the hard, wooden floor, their weight knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Get offa me!”

“Not until you say you love us~!” Noya cooed, rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat.

Tanaka copied the action with your other cheek. “Yeah, it’ll make you feel better to admit it~!”

“Guys,” Suga looked down at the pile, panic in both his voice and expression. “You’re smothering Hinata!”

‘Gee, thanks for the concern,’

The orangette in question was being pinned beneath the two second-years, his face smooshed against your chest. Upon noticing this compromising position, they shot up and grabbed Hinata by the back of his jersey. His face was bright red, eyes completely white as his soul slowly seeped out from his parted lips.

“You pervert!” The two chorused.

“What did Y/N’s chest feel like?!” Noya demanded, steam coming from his flared nostrils.

“Was it soft? Warm??” Tanaka cried, a strip of pink crossing his face from ear to ear.

When Hinata didn’t respond, the two shook him violently. “Answer us!”

You rose up from the ground like a corpse from the grave, face covered in shadow as a black aura rose from your body. They noticed you at the last second, dropping their underclassman before bolting, you hot on their heels. “You idiots! I’m gonna feed you to the damn crows!!”

“W-We were just joking, Y/N!” Noya cried, dodging the ball Asahi had just spiked.

“Y-Yeah, why are you so violent – ah!!” Tanaka’s foot landed in the puddle, causing him to slip and land hard on his back, eyes replaced by swirls.

“Rest in peace, fallen brethren!” Noya sobbed dramatically as he ran past, carefully avoiding the puddle that Tanaka’s clothes were slowly absorbing.

“Noya, you little shit!” You growled, jumping forward and kicking him in the back with both of your feet, sending both of you to the ground. He tried to get away, but you wrestled him into submission before sitting on his back, effectively pinning the smaller male.

“Y/N!” Daichi scolded, using his dad voice to show he meant business. “The game with Nekoma is tomorrow and we can’t win if two of our best are injured!”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “They should have thought about that before -”

“Y/N,” His voice remained the same, but his expression morphed to one with malicious intent as his aura darkened, fingers digging into your shoulder. “Get off of our libero.”

Nervous sweat rolled down your cheek as you stood up with a huff, your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. “Che, I’m going home.”

“Y/N, wait.” Suga left Tanaka’s fallen form, jogging over to meet you in the doorway. He offered a soft smile, almost as if to say he wasn’t going to mess with you. “Either Asahi or I will come and pick you up in the morning.”

“I don’t need an escort, ya know. I can handle myself.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he teased. “It’s our duty to protect the public from Karasuno’s menace.”

“Fair point,”

“Plus, you’re always late.”

“I’m not a morning person, don’t judge me.”

Suga continued to smile but put his hand on his hip as he took on an authoritative tone. “Go straight home and get plenty of rest!”

“Yes, mother hen.” You grinned before leaving the gym.

Unfortunately, life had other plans for you.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Asahi offered a nervous smile as he approached the volleyball team, gathered outside of the camp home, chatting excitedly about the upcoming match against Nekoma high. Suga frowned when he noticed the taller boy’s expression. “Is everything alright, Asahi? Y/N didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

“Ah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over his shoulder. The players leaned to their left to see around his tall frame. There were several moments of silence before Noya, Tanka, and Hinata started screaming bloody murder, clinging to each other for dear life.

“Z-Zombie!!!”

“It’s going to eat us!!”

“Everybody panic!”

Suga sweatdropped. “Um, Y/N, are you okay? You look…”

“Terrible?” Tsuki supplied, pushing his glasses up as Noya knocked into him.

You scowled, running a hand through your messy hair. “Will someone please shut up the golden idiots, please?”

“Enough, guys!” Daichi ordered, grabbing the second-years by the shoulder to stop their endless loop of running in circles around Hinata. “You’re disturbing the peace!”

Suga observed the bags under your eyes and frowned. “You didn’t listen to me, did you?”

“I did,” your protest was interrupted as you yawned, your jaw popping. He quirked a brow. “Don’t you look at me like that, Sugawara Koushi! I fully intended to go home, but -” Your eyes flickered to the others and you cleared your throat. “I ran into an… old friend and didn’t get home ’til late.”

Recognition flickered in his hazel eyes and he nodded, changing the subject. “We should get going,”

“Right,” Daichi nodded. “Let’s go!”

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

Nekoma was like a mirror image of Kurasuno, having their own idiotic Tanaka, terrifying Daichi, and soft boi Suga. Honestly, you were so tired that, for a minute, you thought your team had been cloned.

You stifled a yawn as you followed Noya into the gymnasium, Suga and the Suga clone behind you. Just as they passed through the door, Kiyoko walked by, making Tanaka and his clone rush through the door, shoving the two boys out of the way. While Suga clutched the doorframe to keep himself steady, the brown-haired boy wasn’t quite so lucky, losing his balance and reaching for the closest thing to him – the back of your hoodie.

You grunted when his body rammed into your back, sending you forward a couple of steps. Tanaka and his clone didn’t even notice. “Tanaka, you fuck!” The second-year froze, turning to look at you. “You are so damn lucky this guy is holding my hoodie.”

“Behave,” Daichi ordered as he entered the building, shooting both you and Tanaka a menacing look before turning to apologize to Nekoma’s captain.

The pressure on your back released as the boy steadied himself. “I’m sorry,”

You turned your body so you could see his face. “S’fine. You good?”

When his brown eyes met yours, he wondered if his heart was going to explode, his cheeks growing warm. He could honestly just sit and stare into your eyes for hours because, in his opinion, they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

You raised a brow, snapping your fingers in his face. “You hit your head or somethin’?”

He snapped out of it, face the shade of a cherry as he realized he had been staring. “N-No… I’m okay…”

With a shrug, you continued into the building, following the line of boys toward the court. Once the boys got changed into their uniforms, the introductions began and the captains shook hands, thanking each other for the chance to play. Being tired, you were only half paying attention to them, more interested in a loose piece of thread on your jeans, but then you realized it had gone oddly quiet.

You glanced up, seeing everyone staring at you expectantly. “The fuck ya’ll starin’ at?”

Daichi cleared his throat loudly, nearly choking on his spit as he moved to stand between you and the opposite team. “I’m so sorry, Y/N is just…”

“Special,” Tsuki quipped with a smirk, tapping his temple.

Since he was standing right by the bench you sat upon, you were able to easily reach forward and punch him in the spleen, making him groan and clutch at his middle. “I’ll show you special, you fuck.”

“Y/N!” Daichi hissed, smacking you in the head. “Behave, damn it!”

“Sorry, mom.”

He groaned heavily, turning toward the three coaches and Takeda. “I’m really sorry. They usually aren’t this bad, they just had a rough night.”

To his surprise, old coach Nekomata just laughed, his eyes shining. “I’m sure they did,”

Your eyes narrowed at him as his eyes met yours. ‘This bastard, he knows who I am… but how?’ Tearing your gaze away, you started to chew on your thumbnail – a nervous habit you had developed as a child. ‘Should I confront him about it? No, no, that’ll raise too many questions. I know! I’ll just ignore him like I do the rest of my problems!’

Ennoshita sweatdropped. “Biting your nails is really unhealthy, Y/N-san.”

You scoffed, giving him a blank look. “Please, with all of the shit that I do? It’s the least unhealthy.”

“That’s not something to be proud of…”

“Get warmed up!” Coach Ukai ordered, watching the team as they assembled in front of their captain. He moved to stand beside you, the back of his knees against the metal bench you sat on. He lowered his voice so no one else would hear him. “What do you think, Y/N?”

You leaned back, arms spread across the back of the bench as you peered at the other side of the court. “I think I don’t like that old bat very much. I don’t trust ’em.”

His eye twitched. “Not the coach, you idiot, the team.”

“Oh, right.” Your gaze shifted to the opposing team as they did their own set of warmups, catching the eye of Yaku, the brown-haired boy that had grabbed onto your hoodie. When he noticed your gaze, his head snapped away, cheeks bright red. Even distracted, he was able to switch stances quick enough to receive the ball barreling toward him. You hummed, “They’re stronger than we are currently. It won’t be easy for either side, but I doubt we’ll win this one.”

“Damn it,” he clenched his teeth, eyes narrowed at the two Nekoma coaches. “For once, I hope you’re wrong, Y/N.”

But both of you knew better. Your instincts were like a superpower, so advanced it was scary. When your gut told you something, it was never wrong, and Takeda was convinced that it’s some form of ESP, but you weren’t so sure. Every time he brings it up, you make sure to tell him to stop watching the Sci-Fi channel.

The match began and, at first, you focused only on Kurasuno, but as the battle moved further along, you found yourself watching Nekoma’s libero. Off court, he seemed shy and soft-spoken like Suga, but on the court, his eyes shined with surprising ferocity and he was damn good at his job. He wasn’t the only one, though. Nekoma as a whole was fairly impressive, working like cogs in a machine, centered around their setter. It was like art, no wasted movements.

As expected, Nekoma won both sets, but Kurasuno was far from done, demanding another game.

This continued for a while and you quickly grew bored, your eyes drooping as if begging for some rest. Seeing this, Ukai backhanded you across the forehead. “If you fall asleep, I’m leaving your ass here!”

You scowled at him, grumbling under your breath as you stood up, dodging the ball as you stepped behind your team to reach the door leading outside. It felt nice to leave the gym even though it was hot out – it was better than the humid gym filled with sweaty teenagers. There was a breeze, but it was so soft you barely felt it.

‘Man, these cicadas are annoying as fuck,’ you rubbed the back of your head and winced at the sore spot on your skull, a reminder of the fight you had gotten into last night. ‘What a pain,’ You followed the building around to the back, stepping through the glass door into a long, empty hallway. To the right was a narrow set of stairs which led up to a small landing, atop which were three vending machines. ‘Bingo,’

Your sneakers echoed off the metal as you climbed the stairs, feeling around in your pockets for your wallet. ‘Ah shit,’ The wallet in question was sitting at home, acting as a chew toy for your mischievous bastard of a cat. With an annoyed groan, you slid down to the metal floor, back pressed against the railing. Your eyes slid closed for what you thought was only a few minutes, but you ended up dozing off for a lot longer.

A hand rested gently on your shoulder, followed by a soothing voice. “Excuse me… Y/N-san?” Your eyes slid open, locking with brown shimmering with concern. “Are you alright?” Yaku questioned, trying to contain his blush as he held your gaze. Thankfully, you looked away, glaring at the drink machine.

“I forgot my wallet at home,”

He chuckled, setting his bag down beside him so he could pull out his own wallet before standing up. “Which one do you want?”

You sat up, crossing your legs. “Soda,”

With a nod, he inserted the bills into the machine, first buying your soda and then a sports drink for himself, but the second drink got stuck. A foot suddenly shot forward beside him, connecting with the machine and causing it to tilt backward, closing the small gap between it and the wall. The sports drink fell to the tray behind the soda.

“Stupid machines, they’re always getting stuck and takin’ your money.” You scowled, reaching down for the drinks. “Thanks,”

Yaku nodded, offering a smile as he accepted the bottle. “Consider it an apology for earlier,”

“Fair enough,” you started down the stairs, unscrewing the lid. Yaku followed you, but his foot got caught on a small piece of raised metal and with his stamina drained from the various games he had just played in, he couldn’t find the energy to right himself. His eyes shut, waiting for the impact, but instead of feeling the pain of the ground, he felt himself land against something warm and soft, a strong arm around his waist.

Upon hearing his fall, your instincts had taken over, bracing yourself so you could catch him without losing your balance. Yaku opened his eyes, feeling embarrassment spread throughout his body, but your gaze was focused on the open bottle of soda in your hand, held above your head.

You shook the bottle just a bit and grinned. “Didn’t spill a drop!”

“Y/N!” Suga’s voice echoed off the high ceiling as he called to you from down the hall.

“Here, Suga!” You called back before looking at the brunette. “You hurt?”

“I’m okay,” he breathed, carefully pulling himself away from you before the Karasuno setter could see you holding him. “Thank you… again.”

“There you are,” Suga finally made it to the end of the hall, hands on his hips as he entered mother hen mode. “You didn’t come back and we got worried! Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“Uh,” you fumbled for the phone in your back pocket, pressing the power button multiple times but the screen stayed black. “Oh, it’s dead.”

“You didn’t charge it last night?”

“I forgot,”

“You’re a mess,”

“A hot mess, aye.” You smirked, raising the bottle to your lips. Yaku couldn’t help agreeing with that, but he certainly didn’t have the confidence to say that out loud.

Suga glanced at the silent male, taking note of his red cheeks and how his eyes seemed to be glued to the ground. With a sigh, he grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you to bow with him. You protested with a loud ‘hey!’, but he ignored you. “I’m very sorry if Y/N has caused you any distress.”

“I didn’t -”

“They mean no offense, I promise, they just don’t think before acting.”

“I’m right here, ya kn -”

“Please forgive them,”

“You’re doing too damn much!” You smacked his hand away with a scowl, straightening your back.

Yaku sweatdropped at the theatric scene, holding his hands up in front of him. “Ah, no, they didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s good to hear,” he beamed proudly. “Come on, both teams are waiting for us.”

The three of you headed down the hallway toward the front of the building, a comfortable silence settled over the group. Outside, the two teams were intermingling, chatting excitedly about their matches and offering words of challenge for the next time they met on the court.

Kurasuno watched as the opposing team climbed onto the bus that would take them to the train station. A thought suddenly popped into your head and you smirked, taking a step forward. “Hey, Yaku.”

The brunette paused just before stepping onto the bus, turning back to look at you with pink cheeks. Why did his name have to sound so damn wonderful on your lips? “Yes?”

“Y/N,” Daichi warned, knowing you were about to say something stupid.

As always, you ignored him, holding up the nearly empty bottle of soda in a mock toast as your lips twitched upward. “Don’t go fallin’ for no one else, understand?”

His cheeks burned at the implication of your words and both teams exploded, demanding to know what was going on between the two of you.

“How could you not tell us?!” Tanaka cried, attempting to grab your left arm but you dodged out of the way.

“Is that why you keep rejecting our love?!” cried Noya, who attempted the same with your right arm but you slammed the bottom of the bottle into his face.

“No, you idiot. He literally fell and I caught him.” You shrugged, turning to walk away from the group.

“We still have a chance!!” They chorused, high-fiving each other.

“Not even in your dreams, losers!” You called over your shoulder, snickering when they fell to the ground, dejected.

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▸ Part 2

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[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes

Warnings | None

Rating | K+

Genres | Friendship, Family, Fluff

Word Count | 2K

Summary: Jim finds a snuffly stray in Barbara’s flat. Cue sarcasm, sighs, and spaghetti.

Jim Gordon rubbed at the back of his neck as he ascended the last flight of stairs to Barbara’s flat, trying in vain to ease away the headache that had been growing steadily since morning. He was fairly sure the coffee-to-water ratio he had been consuming that week weren’t exactly helping. Or the lack of sleep behind the excessive coffee-drinking. Too many cases, too little time...

A weary sigh escaped his lips as he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

He took one step inside and stopped, hand going to his gun. Something was wrong. 

“Barbara?” His call was experimental; he knew there would be no response.

Slipping his weapon from its holster, he gripped it before him, muzzle trained on the floor, and took a few cautious steps into the apartment. The lights were all out, but someone was definitely there. Something was wrong.

There was movement in his peripheral vision, and he whirled, gun poised to eliminate the threat, adrenaline surging through his veins.

The “threat” was the fluttering of the muslin curtains that veiled a window off the balcony. He lowered his gun and rolled his eyes at himself. Well, at least the open window confirmed that someone was there—or had been, at any rate.

Treading as softly as he could, he turned the corner into the living room. His frown deepened.

Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. Cereal boxes and snack wrappers littered the coffee table, and a heap of blankets adorned the sofa. He inched closer. Faint snores were coming from somewhere within the plush mountain, and he could now see sandy curls peeking out. An idea struck him, and he crossed to the head of the couch, where the scant inch or two of visible face confirmed his suspicions. 

Jim’s shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh and holstered his weapon, hands coming to rest on his hips.

Before him, sleeping soundly on his ex’s couch and wrapped in what had been her favorite pink throw, was Selina Kyle.

He stood there for a minute or two, weighing his options and trying to find a direction in which to channel the unplanned adrenaline rush. Then, coming to a decision, he exited the apartment and retreated down the stairs to his car. He returned shortly with a paper sack full of the groceries he had been planning to take home after he checked on the flat.

“Guess I’ll be eating here,” he grumbled to no one as he flipped on the lights in the kitchen and set his burden on the island counter. There was a stockpot in the cupboard, and filling it with water, he put it on to boil while he dug through his sack for a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce.

The noodles were in the water, the sauce was simmering, and he was rinsing dust off of a couple of plates when he sensed someone behind him. He shut off the water. “Morning.” He turned around and channeled his amusement at her impressive bedhead into a friendly—if somewhat smug—smile. “Hungry?”

She just stared at him.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“What are you doing here?”

He set the plates on the counter and crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink. “I could ask you the same question.”

She plopped down on one of the bar stools at the island and shrugged with a practiced nonchalance. “It was raining. You?”

He raised his eyebrows at her explanation. “I come by periodically to make sure everything’s in order. Water plants, take care of the mousetraps...”

“See if your girlfriend came back…”

He leveled her with a glare.

She grinned. And sneezed.

“Bless you.”

She sneezed again. And again, six times, to be exact, in rapid succession.

Jim waited patiently until the fit seems to be over, then, “Ble--”

Selina held up a finger and sneezed again. Then she tilted her head and waited expectantly for a moment. A nod. “You’re good.”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly. “Your sauce is burning.”

Jim jolted from his position with a curse, reaching for a spoon with one hand and turning down the flame with the other. The spaghetti was probably done, too. “So,” he said conversationally as he searched for the colander, “you sick?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“How long has that been going on?”

He could practically hear the shrug. “A couple of days.” A loaded snuffle.

“There should be tissues in the living room, somewhere.”

A moment later, a muffled trumpeting assured him that she did not have any trouble finding them. Then he heard the bathroom sink running. When she came back, flinging the water from her hands, he had two steaming plates of spaghetti on the island and was rooting through his sack for the carton of orange juice.

She slid back into her place as he set a glass in front of her. “Drink up. I’ll check to see if Barbara had any cold meds after we eat.” He stuck a fork into her noodles and pushed the plate towards her.

She took it, stirring at the sauce. He had barely enough time to smirk at the glee in her eyes before an indifferent mask slid into place, and she declared, “There’s parmesan in the fridge.”

His eyebrows climbed, but he crossed to the fridge, and, sure enough, there was a half-empty container in the door, along with bottles of mustard and ketchup, a jar of mayonnaise, and some kind of marinade. Tossing the container to her, he watched as she thoroughly doused her food. “You like some spaghetti with your cheese, huh?”

She said something in response, but it was garbled by the massive bite she was trying to slurp up.

He chuckled, leaning back against the counter behind him with his own plate. “I’m not sure that was English.”

“You’re so funny,” she groused around the last two noodles dangling against her chin. “You should do stand up.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Augh.” She gulped down another bite. “Please, no. I would pay not to see that.”

He huffed, and with a shake of his head, started into his own food.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim was searching through the cupboard above the stove for cold medicine. “What are your symptoms?” he asked, scanning the label on a bottle filled with a syrupy blue liquid. He glanced up. “I mean, besides the heart-attack-inducing sneezing fits?”

“Detective, if all it takes to give you a scare is a little sneezing, you sure you should be on the job? Jumpy cops do questionable things. You should at least consider trading in your piece for a stun gun.”

“Who’s a comedian now? Symptoms.”

“Well, sneezing–“

“We’ve established that.”

“–headache, runny nose. My throat’s a little sore.”

“Okay…” He picked up another bottle. “Do you have a fever?”

She shrugged. “How would I know?”

Jim reached out to feel her forehead, but her glare aborted the movement halfway, and he raised his hands in placation before turning back to look for a thermometer. 

“So. You haven’t heard from the girlfriend at all, huh? The place seemed pretty deserted. It was Barbara, right? Breaking up via note on a piece of computer paper is pretty cold. Like,  really co–”

Jim popped the thermometer into her mouth, relishing the sudden silence and the glare she sent his way. He smiled. “Huh. That works pretty well. I think I’ll have to carry one of those around all the time.”

She grumbled something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry—did you say something? I can’t quite make it out.”

Her eyes narrowed and she made a face.

Jim left the thermometer in longer than was strictly necessary as he took his time perusing the contents of the cabinet. He pulled down a cardboard box full of bubble packets of dissolvable tablets and scanned the directions. “How do you feel about homeopathics?”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced up to find the most deadpan glare he had ever seen in his life. He worked his jaw to hide the grin threatening to take over his face and feigned surprise. “Oh. Right. My bad.” He pulled the thermometer from her lips and held it up to the light.

“Do I get a lollipop?”

Jim squinted up at the small numbers. “99.7. I can’t remember if that’s technically considered a fever, but if it is, it’s very mild.”

“Jumpy...Bad eyesight...forgetful...Elderly. You  sure you should be carrying a weapon detective?”

He turned his squint on her. “I’m thirty-four.”

“Like I said.”

Jim shook his head and grabbed a medicine cup from the drawer of random items that fit no category. The Drawer of Miscellaneous Items, Barbara had dubbed it. He settled on something called ColdEEZ and poured the prescribed fifteen mls. “Drink that. You’ll need to take it every…” he glanced at the directions again, “six hours. But if you can, sleep, and just take some more when you wake up.”

“Sure thing, Mom. Wait—does this mean you’re not kicking me out?”

Jim sighed. “Well, not tonight, anyway. It’s late, you’re sick, and like you said, it’s raining. Barbara would understand.” He hoped. He honestly didn’t know. But there was no way he was just sending her back out into the street. Barbara would have to understand. His fingers went to his eyes, rubbing at the dull pain he had nearly forgotten in the last hour.

“Headache?”

“Hmm?”

“You should go home more.”

Jim looked up now, frowning.

“Oh come on. It looks like you haven’t shaved in a day or two. I honestly don’t know—I’m not super familiar with the average growth rate of men’s facial hair. Anyway. Your shirt’s all wrinkled, and you look  rough.  I’m betting you’ve pulled a couple all-nighters at the GCPD.”

Jim huffed. Sharp kid. “Maybe you should be the detective.”

“Nah. I hear the pay’s dirt, and everyone hates you. ‘Sides, I earn more on the street.”

He shot her a look that said very clearly,  “Earn? Really?”

She shrugged. “Like I said, we can’t all be cops.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get some sleep, Selina.”

Jim set about washing the dishes and finding containers for the leftover food while Selina settled herself once more on the couch. When Jim had dried and put away the last dish, he found Selina in much the same position as before, sound asleep beneath Barbara’s blanket.

He sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day, but a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He flipped out the lights and made sure the tissues were within reach. “Goodnight, Selina.”

Grabbing his coat and his keys, Jim headed out the door to go home and get some sleep himself. But there was one more thing he had to do, first.

***

 When Selina awoke the next morning, she found the apartment empty, save for the assortment of groceries on the kitchen counter. Amid the cans of soup, a loaf of bread, a bottle of vitamin c chews, boxes of crackers, and a carton of chicken broth, was a note.

Selina,

Medicine’s on the table. 15 mls every 6 hours, 4 if your fever climbs.

Make sure you drink a lot. There’s orange juice and Gatorade in the fridge. Seriously, stay hydrated.  

I’ll try to check in on you later.

Jim.

P.S. There’s leftover spaghetti, too.

If you have an emergency, my phone no. is 735 897 2096

P.P.S. Prank calls do not qualify as emergencies.

Selina grinned and went for the orange juice.

A/N: Hey, y’all! I hope you enjoyed this first installment in my little series of misadventures! I have the next four chapters written and mostly ready to go, so keep an eye out. Let me know what you thought in the comments!

I know the world is crazy right now, and it’s my hope that these will bring just a wee bit of innocent happiness, if only for a few minutes. Hang in there, y’all. Be safe. Take care of each other. You’re important and needed, and I love you.

Follow my blog and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to make sure you never miss an issue. :)

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Clinic

Pax gets carried. Kent gets held. Sol catches his breath.

Previous: Teaser 1 / Teaser 2 / Hospital/Squad Car / No More Squad Car / Empty Bar / Used Car Lot 1 / Used Car Lot 2 / Gas Station / Roadside 1 / Roadside 2 / Forest / Treetops / Cottage (1) / Cottage (2) / Interlude: Police Station / Cottage (3) / Cottage/Car Ride

TW for: self-loathing, needles, poor gun safety practices.

@whumpitywhumpwhump

I did some cursory research but i’m also an idiot so please forgive any medical inaccuracies.

Sol has lived in the suburbs and he’s lived in the city, but apparently this here is the actual sticks, because he’s never seen a clinic like this one. It’s obviously just an old house that’s been converted, with a sign on the lawn that says “O’Brian Polyclinic.” He doesn’t know what that means exactly, but he does know that there’s a big handwritten sign on the door that says “CLOSED,” and though it’s a pretty big house only a single light is on, on the first floor, near the door.

Sol rolls the Jeep to a stop and looks up at the clinic, chewing his lip.

“This is the closest place,” Sam says beside him in a low voice. “You’d have to go into town to go to a regular doctor and the hospital’s even farther than that.”

Sol turns in his seat. Pax has their eyes squeezed shut and their jaw clenched. Kent is carding a hand through their mess of fire-engine curls; he gives Sol a scared look and doesn’t say anything.

“Okay,” Sol says, and gets out of the car.

“Wait, I’ll— I’ll come with you,” Sam says, scrambling down out of the Jeep and trailing Sol up onto the porch. 

Sol raps on the outer screen door, loud. The single light is either in the same room as the door or the next room over, so it should be easy to hear. When no one comes to the door, he knocks again, harder. Then he hammers on the door, not stopping, and yells, “Hey! Is anybody in there? We need help!”

After almost a minute of pounding, a scratchy voice calls from inside, “Yeah, we all need help, these days. Fuck off.”

Sol blinks, and looks down at Sam, who is fidgeting next to him in a way that looks, frankly, guilty. 

“We— I at least need bandages, man,” Sol says, which isn’t even true, they probably need fucking antibiotics at the very least, but he’s got Pax’s blood all over his hands and that’s kind of all he can think about. “Just— will you at least take a look?”

“Can’t you read?” the voice says, not a step closer than before. “We’re closed.”

Sol glares at the door. Then he glares down at Sam, too, for good measure. “You got any bright ideas, or are you just here for fucking— moral support?”

Sam bites her lip in a way that Sol finds kind of worrying, not meeting his eyes. 

“Dr. O’Brien?” she calls after a second, sounding highly reluctant. “It’s, um— I-it’s Samantha Rochester. I— There’s been an accident.”

Sol raises his eyebrows at her. Oh, there’s been an accident, has there?

The inside door opens. 

Through the screen door Sol can see— a cartoon hillbilly, basically, or a sheriff from an old Western. He doesn’t have a cowboy hat on but he does have comically broad shoulders and a huge fluffy mustache, and also a tumbler of brown liquid in his hand.

“A Rochester,” the Sheriff says, looking down at Sam and not even really seeing Sol next to her. “Even more my pleasure to say this, then, kid: fuck off.” And he slams the door so hard the windows shake.

“What the fuck,” Sol says.

“Dr. O’Brien went to high school with my dad,” Sam says in a small voice.

Sol realizes this is the angriest he’s ever been. He feels himself turn around and start marching back toward the Jeep without even fully deciding to do so, and he doesn’t try to stop.

——

Russ O’Brien is just settling back down in his chair to really savor this awful bathtub-grade whisky, when Dan Rochester’s daughter hammers on the door again, and he slams the tumbler down and gets to his feet, ready to tell her exactly what she can do with her little “accident.”

When he yanks the door open this time there is a shotgun pointed at his face.

Russ didn’t even really see the guy before. He’s short, dark-haired, and clearly furious. The screen door is the only thing between Russ and the barrel of the gun the guy is holding. The Rochester girl is hovering over his shoulder, looking almost embarrassed.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” the guy says in a low, dangerous voice. “My friends are in the car. One of them has a shoulder wound. It’s bad. I think the other one’s got an infection. No,” he says over Russ’s immediate objection, “he isn’t bitten. If you’re a doctor, you’re going to help them.” The guy pumps the shotgun. He looks like he only kind of knows how to do it, and like he means every word he’s saying, which is the worst kind of person to be pointing a gun at you. “Or else I’m going to shoot you in your stupid mustache. Got it?”

Russ squints at him.

The guy is small, and he looks like just a kid himself, probably not out of his teens. Russ has done his share of fighting— and more than, probably. There’s a chance he could take him, especially if he’s as bad with that gun as it looks like he is.

...It isn’t a chance he’s committed to taking just outta spite, though. Not yet, anyway. He frowns at Dan’s girl, over the kid’s shoulder.

“Where’s your dad? Too busy poaching chickens to know his daughter’s running around in the dark at the end of the world?”

Sam Rochester mutters something, down at the porch and not up at him. “What’s that?”

“I said I killed him,” she says, sticking out her chin and shooting him an impressive glare. “He’s dead. I shot him.”

Russ stares at her. Then to his own surprise, he bursts out laughing, so hard he has to grab the door frame to stay upright. “Well shit, why didn’t you say so?” he says. “Come right the fuck in, then!”

——

“Don’t you have stretchers?” Pax says, raising their foot like they’re gonna kick the doctor in the face when they’ve just got him to agree to help. “I don’t let strangers carry me.”

“I assume the gun means I’m not getting paid for this,” the doctor says drily, “and for free you get one trip in. Take it or don’t.”

Pax is still in the car, which means Kent is too, because Pax’s head is still in his lap. And Sol probably can’t carry Pax; and obviously he can’t carry both at the same time.

“Going once,” the doctor says, waiting at the car door with his eyebrows raised. “It’s sure as hell no skin off my nose if you’d rather stay here and lose your fuckin’ arm.”

Pax squints at him, and then growls and sits up; Kent rushes to help them. “Fine. Help me out of here, then.”

Under different circumstances watching Pax’s angry-cat reluctance to get arranged in Dr. Sheriff’s huge arms would probably be hilarious. As it is Sol let’s them work that shit out for themselves and jogs around to get Kent out of the car. 

Kent is leaning back against the seat with his eyes closed, breathing kind of hard. His face is the color of cottage cheese. Sol hates this so much.

“Hey,” he says quietly, and when Kent doesn’t answer he reaches out and squeezes his shoulder gently. “Hey. Kent, we’re here, we’re gonna get you looked at.”

Kent’s eyes drift open slowly, and focus on Sol’s face even more slowly. “‘sss... Pax okay?” he mumbles.

“They’ll be fine,” Sol says. “C’mon.” And he tucks an arm under Kent’s knees and the other behind his back and eases him up into a princess carry.

“God,” Sol says quietly. “After this I’m gonna feed you a million hamburgers, dude, you are way too light.” 

Kent’s eyelids flutter, and he rests his head against Sol’s chest. “Not hungry,” he mutters in a pouty voice. Then he sighs, long and dramatic. “This is... you shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what, man?” Sol says, making his way around the car back up toward the house.

Kent sighs again, sounding distressed, and raises a hand to his forehead to poke at his face-scar. “Shouldn’t— like me. You should— stop. Stop it.”

Sol looks down at his face. He looks genuinely distressed. Sol can see him working himself up. “Hey,” he says. “I get to pick who I like, C.K. I’m a grown man.”

Kent shakes his head, his breathing speeding up. “No. No. You don’t— you don’t know what I really—”

Kent’s chest hitches slightly. His eyes go very wide.

Sol freezes. “Kent?” he says. Kent stares straight ahead. His chest is making tiny juddering movements but Sol can’t hear him actually breathing. “Kent— Baby, what’s—”

Kent grabs for the front of Sol’s shirt, his eyes wide and scared. “Can’t—” he gasps sharply. “Sol— I— can’t—” And he cuts off, making terrible short gasps, his whole body spasming with them.

“Fuck,” Sol says and then he’s running to catch up with Dr. Sheriff. “Doc— Doc! Something bad is happening!”

The doctor turns, and he and Pax both give Sol a look that is annoyed for about a half a second before it shifts into something else.

“Put me down,” Pax says. “I can stand.”

“Shit. Rochester.” Dr. Sheriff half-dumps Pax back on their feet, where they stand for about a second before they sink down on their knees; the Dr. grabs Sam’s arm when she appears at his side. “There’s a med supply kit on my desk, right of the door. Get it now.” Then, to Sol: “Put him down here. Careful.”

Sol’s never been more careful in his life.

Kent writhes on the grass, his spine arching with the effort of trying to get air in his lungs. In the porch lights Sol can see that his lips are tinted blue.

“What’s happening?” Sol yells, and the doctor doesn’t say anything, just lowers his head to Kent’s chest and listens, face unreadable. He sits back up, sighing.

“Yeah. Fuck. Think his lung’s collapsing.”

Sol feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. “It’s what?”

The doctor is saved from responding by Sam’s running footsteps on the porch. Dr. Sheriff holds his hand out behind him and snaps his fingers, and she shoves the big metal box at him and drops to her knees too, panting.

The doctor throws the box open next to him, grabs a stethoscope, sucks in air when he listens to whatever’s wrong inside Kent’s chest. The sound makes Sol very aware of the air Kent is not getting; the sounds he’s making are fucking unbearable. 

“Yeah, you’re not gonna love this,” Dr. Sheriff says, though Sol isn’t sure who he’s talking to. Then he nods at Sol, reaching for more stuff in his bag. “Hold him still.”

Sol stares at him, but then he grabs for Kent’s shoulder and pushes it down, leaning down to talk into his ear. 

“Kent,” Sol says, and he thinks, I never want to have to talk to him like this again. “Baby, you gotta hold still, okay? We got a doctor, and he’s gonna help you, but you gotta— um—”

Dr. Sheriff is swabbing a place on Kent’s chest below his collarbone, on the bruised and broken side. At least he can see what he’s doing, since Kent’s shirt is currently holding Pax’s shoulder together. The doc pulls a big needle out of his bag and gives Sol a ‘keep doing what you're doing’ kind of nod.

“Oh, god, okay,” Sol says. He puts his hand in Kent’s hair, tries to massage his scalp like he did before, in the bedroom, when Kent was just panicking instead of actively dying. “God, fuck, okay. We’re gonna help you, we’re gonna get you air, but it’s gonna hurt so I need you to just stay still, okay, baby, just stay still and it’ll be—”

Dr. Sheriff jabs the needle into Kent’s chest. Kent twitches. Dr. Sheriff messes with the needle somehow— there’s a puff and a hiss— and Kent takes a huge gulp of air, collapsing back against the grass.

“Bhhuh, fuck,” Sol says, dropping his head down to Kent’s shoulder. Dr. Sheriff exhales too, sounding shaky now that the emergency is over— for a given value of ‘over’. 

“Okay, come on,” the doc says to Pax, but Pax swats him away.

“I can walk,” they snap, and they scoot closer to Kent, half-crawling on knees and one hand, to kneel next to his head and reach out to touch his forehead.

“Hah. Okay. Good,” they say, quietly. They lean over Kent, who looks up at them with half-lidded eyes, panting. “For the record, sunshine, if you die I got shot for nothing, so keep that in mind.”

Kent looks at them, catching his breath, and then he closes his eyes and nods.

“Get ‘im inside,” Dr. Sheriff says, waving an arm without turning back. “I’ll see what I can do about sewing you idiots back together.”

Sol gathers Kent back up, and brings him in for a second before he stands up, to give himself a chance to catch his own breath, too.

[voidskye-fiction]

Part 1.

A small man stumbled his way into the meeting hall, all eyes turning to face the one who dared to enter. Bree who sat at the head on the table, raised from her seat, hands lying flat on the table. “What do you think you're doing?” She spat though her teeth.

Everyone knew that when she was in a meeting she was not to be disturbed, yet this man whom she didn’t even know the name of, had the courage to intrude. The man attempted to fix his composure but under the deadly glare of the leader, he was unable to. Her stare scared most, other members of the community said it was the main reason she was the one in charge. Shaking uncontrollably and attempting to look anywhere but her, the man took a deep breath which was cut cat short when Bree’s short temper bested her and she pulled her dagger out her its hidden spot in her boot, slamming it down into the table. The other member at the table flinched as the blade hits the table. She rounded the table, making a straight line for the man, only to stop half way. The dagger left in the table might have been a reassuring fact, if it had not been for them fact that Bree was well known for carrying more than one hidden blade. “Well. Speak”

Her eyebrow rising, showing the man she was losing patience with him.  Oh, how she was able to make a fully grown, slightly smaller than average man feel small. With his eyes to the ground he finally said what he had come to say “y…you asked to be informed when that girl woke up. She…she’s awake.” Bree eyed the man carefully, walking the rest of the way up to him. Walking a circle around him, stopping back in front of him, closer than before. “I’m fairly certain I told the old man to tell me when she awoke. Did I not?” She said, lifting the man's chin with a single finger so the man could see the unamused expression

“Yes…yes you did. But the-the doctor is tending to her so he asked me to find you and tell you for him. He said nodding his head in agreement with the words he spoke. “And you are?” “Adam, I’m the doctor’s newest assistant” he said with a slight new found confidence. From the table there was several muffled chuckles and a hushed “doc really is going through assistances” which caused more chuckles.  This unnecessary interaction, forced Bree to turn around sharply on her heels. Her glare towards each and every member at the table causing them to hush and shrink in their seats. The woman’s glare lingered on one particular member, the man who had made the comment. A silent warning to him that he was one very thin ice.

Of course, Bree knew what the man had insinuated with his snide comment, she heard the rumours that echoed around the halls but as long as if wasn’t plotting against her, she didn’t really care what the others did. After all it was no one’s business

“Leave now” Bree demeaned with a wave of her hand and just like that everyone one left in a quick buzz. However, the man who couldn’t bite his tongue was grabbed by the lapel of his shirt, as he tried to past by undetected. Bree bring the man’s face inches from hers. She started at him for a minute, her hazel eyes full of years of unspoken rage. When the man began to shake under her watch; a sign that Bree has his full attention and finally spoke in a soft yet stern voice. “You dare speak ill of the very same doctor who has saved your life on more than one occasion?” It wasn’t necessarily a question but of course Bree wants a response, but what response could he give that would be acceptable. ‘None’ the man thought to himself. “I am sorry. It was only meant a joke— to lighten the mood” “A joke? Basted on rumours that hold no ground if you actually took a moment to think”

While she didn’t put much thought into these rumours, she did know her doctor better than anyone else in her compound. They had a secret shared history. And she had trusted him with alone to tend to her half-sister.

“But atlas, you, Joshua do not seem to think. Perhaps I should seek a replacement for you.” “No! Please—please don’t do that!” The man—Joshua begged. “I need this position” he stopped begging as Bree’s grip on his lapel tighten in her fist, bringing him even closer to her somehow. His ocean blue eyes fell to her hand, afraid of the unknown of what was coming next.

God how she hated it when people begged, she had given him this position and it had given him and inflated ego; a higher sense of purpose that didn’t really exist. The meeting had been cut short for a reason Bree reminder herself. Charlie, she was here and she was awake. The brunette pushed Joshua way with more force then she had intended, the man stumbled over his feet causing him to fall to the ground. He didn’t even try to move from his spot. “I’ll deal with you later” Bree muttered as she walked over to the table where she had left her blade, pulling it from the wood with ease and spilling it back into its sheath. She shot Joshua one last glance before disappearing out the side door that only she used.

As Bree made her way down to the makeshift infirmary, her mind filed with the thoughts of the last time she had seen Charlie. It had been just a few nights before everything went wrong, back when everyone was happy(ish) and she wasn’t known as evil or a stone-cold bitch. Her thoughts wondered to the last time they had seen each other; it was late at night and they were sitting on the second story roof just outside of Charlie’s bedroom window. Bree’s memories of what the two were talking about were hazy. Maybe too much time has passed since that night or maybe due to Bree not letting herself think back to a time when her family was all together or perhaps the conversation was about nothing of important.

The memories faded as her nose was invaded by the all to well-known smell of the infirmary. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed that she had arrived. Bree has spent more than her fair share of time in these rooms. They weren’t the best and where almost always over crowded but they did the best they could, given the current situation of the world. Shaking her head slightly followed by fixing the few loss strands of hair back behind her ears and with a quick rebuild of her composure, she made her way towards the back of the room. Passing by a few wounded or sick members where they laid, some of the beds where surrounded by makeshift privacy dividers others weren’t. Bree made a metal note of how surprisingly empty the room was.

As she made her way closer to the far corner, she noticed that the door leading into her private med bay was ajar. When she gently nudged the door open, she was meet by the site of Adam’s back. She gave a small dismissive nod towards Adam who still shouldn’t bring his eyes to meet hers. He took off in a speed walk. As Bree watched him disappear, she couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips.

“You scare that poor boy” Doc stated as he walked up to Bree, bring her attention back into the room. “And?” Bree questioned with a rise eyebrow. The old man chuckled softly to himself. “Oh Brianna-” “Bree.” The brunette corrected him. But he played no visible note of it as he made his way towards her. His hands cupping the cheeks off the slightly taller woman. “My dear, you find to much amusement in making everyone fear you.” A small smirk played on the corners of her lips at hearing it.  “You do know most people wouldn’t dare speak to me so carelessly.”

Doc waved his hand dismissively in front of her before turning around to set about tidying up his work space. His hands shaking as he places the unused bandages back in there rightful spot. “Most haven’t known you for as long as I have. Most haven’t see you—” he paused all movements as if finding the right word to use took every bit of his concentration. “— change…evolve into the woman you are today”

Bree didn’t say anything, just let the old man reorder everything in the quite. His words set with her, he wasn’t wrong, of course, but she had never really thought about how things must have looked from his point of view. Doc was the only reason she had survived long enough to become who she was. He had found her fairly early into this whole mess, taught her all the basics to survive. So she kept him around and let him do as he wanted. Part of Bree felt like she owned him that (not the she would ever openly admit to it.)

At some point while she was lost in through again, Doc had moved to be standing in front of her again. The two old friends stood in silence for a beat before Bree asked the question she had been dying to know. “How is she?” Her voice came out weaker, softer than she had meant. “see for yourself”  he said as he placed a soft kiss on her cheek before disappearing out the door much like Adam had.

Bree hesitated for a moment before making her way around the privacy screen. The brunette was met with with sight of bruises all over her half sister’s back, mixed with the partly blood soaked bandage wrapped around her abdomen. A choked gasp fell from her lips.

The sudden realisation that someone else was in the room caused Charlie to jump and much to quickly pull her shirt all the way down. The action causing her to fall forward and a wince in pain through gritted teeth. Bree rushed over to her, squatting down to be eye level with the blonde. Bree’s hands coming to rest on Charlie’s shoulders, pushing her back up slightly.

For the first time, she was finally able to get a proper look at her half sister. As her eyes looked over Charlie over starting from her face, she noticed the faint hint of bruises around her left eye and cheek. The next thing she payed attention to was the black ink sitting on Charlie’s right shoulder. Something about the symbol felt familiar and not it a good way. Lightly, she traced her index finger over the lines: attempting to remember the times she had seen it. Almost as if on some kind of queue, a long bang from outside in the main room brought the memories of the last time she had seen the tattoo. A man on his knees in the pouring rain, his own gun aimed back at him as he swore he would never a side with the likes of her, one single gun shot ringing out before the gun dropped to the gun dropped to the ground much like its owner seconds ago. The unaffiliated.

Not all the unaffiliated had the tattoo, it was a choice, and to say that Bree was surprised to see the mark on Charlie would be an understatement. If anything Bree had expected the blonde to be aligned with the their father and the underground or the worst option, dead.

As the memory fades her hand starts to shake, the full force of the memory becoming to much for her to bare. Balling her hand into a tight fist, squeezing till her knuckles turned white. Her eyes shut tightly as she attempted to rebuild the walls around that memory. A moment later a slightly smaller, colder hand was placed upon hers.

“Charlie” Bree said softly with a small smile.

[yiriono]

I ESPecially Like You

Description: One day Jaehyun walks in on his classmate, Taeyong, performing an exorcism. 

!highschool au

!psychic au

A/n: Hey guys! This is a high school au Jaeyong fic. Hope you enjoy. Also cross posted on AO3 and AFF. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The ongoing lecture fades into the background, as Jaehyun glances at the clock, eager for class to end. He’s bored, very bored, so bored, in fact he’s resulted to doodling on the corner of his textbook to pass time.

He’d never been a numbers guy, let alone a math person, but here he is anyways, sitting through calculus. Jaehyun didn’t plan on taking the class, considering he barely passed pre-calc, but it was his mom who convinced him to register.

“It’ll be good for your college applications,” she said, “You need to take a harsh course load”.

When he refused, she retaliated with incessant nagging, until Jaehyun eventually caved. She didn’t know the reason he was so hesitant was because it meant removing the class he actually wanted to take: Art.

He hasn’t told her, or anyone really, that he wanted to go to art school. It just didn’t seem like a feasible option, especially when his mom was dead set on his premed pathway. He tried to drop hints, like alluding to RISD’s prestige or talking about the vast career options available for creatives, but each time he gets the same reply. “You can’t make money as an artist, and it’s a dying career. You’re better off as a doctor.”

To that, he scoffs. If anything doctors will get replaced by robots, making med a dying career. But begrudgingly, he listens to her and adds calculus to his course load.

Now sitting here, as the teacher blabbers about derivatives, Jaehyun really regrets the decision. He doesn’t feel like paying attention, instead focusing on his drawing, which is beginning to look less of a doodle but more so a full out sketch. He’s adding contrast to the shadows when his mind drifts to the anime he started last night.

Mob Psycho. A story about an ordinary middle school boy who has special ESP powers.

It occurs to him that he’s an ordinary boy too. Maybe not in middle school but high school should be a fair substitute. What if he actually has powers that have laid dormant in him the whole time? What if, right?

Jaehyun wonders if he concentrates hard enough, maybe he could activate hidden abilities and make time move faster. It’s an immature delusion, but he’s desperate and bored enough to try.

First he clears his mind, before clenching the muscles in his arm, summoning this strange tension that spreads to his fingertips. He points his middle finger at the minute hand, and in one swift motion, moves it up.

As expected, nothing happens. The clock still beats its regular rhythm, continuing it’s dreadfully slow descent to 3pm. He sighs, dropping his hand in defeat. The only thing Jaehyun learns from class was that he has a bad case of eighth grade syndrome.

♥

When the bell finally rings, Jaehyun rushes for the door, only to be blocked by the lanky senior, Doyoung.

“Move” he wails, trying to squish through. But the other boy doesn’t budge.

“Where do you think you’re going”

“Home” Jaehyun retorts, again trying to squirm his way out.

“Oh no you aren’t” Doyoung chuckles. He yanks Jaehyun’s collar, and drags him out into the hall. The brunette tries to free himself, but Doyoung’s grip is firm. “Remember, you still owe me one.”

Jaehyun lets out a low whine. “Please not today”. More than anything, he wants to go home. The day, though mundane and ordinary, felt absolutely draining. What he needs to do right now is plop onto his bed, play his phone games, and recharge before spending the rest of the evening catching up on the wasted calculus lesson.

Unfortunately, the older boy isn’t at all sympathetic. “Lot’s of work to be done,” he says, completely ignoring Jaehyun’s plea, “It’s nearing exam season, so the student council is especially busy. You’re going to help us with the mountain of paperwork piling on my desk.”

Doyoung pinches his nose bridge, as he lets out this frustrated sigh. “I swear it never ends. Just when I think I’m done for the day, the administration needs us to do more.”

To this, Jaehyun can’t help but to feel sorry for the elder.

He’s weak, always has, at rejecting people’s requests, especially Doyoung’s. During freshman year, they shared a class together; the older had forgotten to take his mandatory art credit the year before, which resulted in being placed in a lower grade. The other boy, though irritatingly uptight, had grown to become one of Jaehyun’s best friends. So as much as he’s craving to rewind at home, he’d rather not have Doyoung work till death.

“Okay fine” he concedes.

Doyoung’s taken back, clearly not expecting Jaehyun to agree. He lets out a grating laugh, causing some heads to turn towards them, before his lips settle into a small smirk. “Good boy.”

Jaehyun groans at the reply. “Don’t make me change my mind” he warns, but with no resolution to enforce his words.

♥

By the time Jaehyun finally leaves school, the sun was beginning to set. Orange and purple hues spread across the sky, expansive and continuous like the sea. Slowly, the bustling town begins to retire: with shops flipping their open signs, cats returning to their homes, and children abandoning the park swings.

The walk home gives him mixed feelings. It’s strange seeing the once lively streets desolate. But at the same time, the emptiness is calming, giving Jaehyun the luxury of silence.

He’s about to reach the end of the block, when he hears this loud crash coming from the alley up ahead. It’s followed by a gruff yelp, and the sound of explosions, like those dramatic booms you hear in action movies.

An ominous feeling travels across Jaehyun’s body, causing him to shiver. He should probably turn back now and take another route, whatever's going on sounds like trouble. For all he knows, it's a gang fight or a mugging. He backs away, ready to run away, before he hears this shrill scream.

It’s a woman, and she sounds distressed.

This was probably a signal for him to get the fuck away, but Jaehyun can’t move. Not when someone’s in trouble. Every instinct in him is telling him to withdraw, but he doesn’t break. Instead, he takes a deep breath, before forcing himself to run up to the alley. His feet feel heavy, a sign of his body’s resistance, but he goes through with it anyways.

He’s standing near the entrance, expecting some grand crime to be occurring, but only to be greeted by darkness. But the screams are still ongoing, sounding even more twisted and pained than previously.

Jaehyun takes another step, when he notices something.

There, at the very back of the alleyway, is this boy wearing a red jacket, his face is covered by the hood. His arm is outreached, while his hand is bent in a way that looks like a claw. Jaehyun’s eyes trail up to the direction the boy’s facing, before he sees it.

The source of the eerie noises, also the most disgusting thing Jaehyun has ever seen: a tall, black figure, with what seems like human hands sticking from its sides. The thing suddenly leaps at the boy, but only for him to suddenly disappear, causing the monster to miss and slam right into the floor.

The boy in the red jacket then appears out of nowhere, before raising his arm, positioned in the same way Jaehyun had earlier in class, and flicks his wrist. This causes the black figure to be flung up: and when the boy moves his wrist down, accordingly, the figure is hurled back down. The thing momentarily stops moving, clearly worn out by the battle that’s transpired. Jaehyun watches, absolutely shocked, as the boy walks over to the figure while muttering something Jaehyun can’t make out, lifts his hand and snaps.

The disgusting creature vanishes. Gone. Vamoosh.

Jaehyun blinks hard, several times, but the thing really did disappear. He barely has time to process what had just happened when the boy in the red jacket lets out a satisfied chuckle, and bends over to pick up a blue backpack that was leaning against the brick wall. At some point during the fight, the hood had fallen off, revealing matching bright red hair that messily spikes all over the place. But in the dim lighting, Jaehyun can’t make out the boy’s face.

“Oh shit there’s garbage all over you” the boy mutters to his backpack, as he picks off the unwanted remnants that litter the bag.

It doesn’t strike Jaehyun that he’s been standing there in utter silence the whole time until the boy, who had been walking towards the exit, suddenly stops in his trail when he sees Jaehyun.

As a final departing gesture, the sun travels to where their standing, finally illuminating the murky alley. Nature exposes the boy, thrusting him away from the mask of darkness, revealing a very familiar face.

“Lee Taeyong?” Jaehyun exclaims.

It’s him alright. That unreal beauty and insanely sharp jawline could only belong to one person.

Taeyong lets out a brief gasp, before suddenly, he dissipates into thin air.

“What the fuck..”

Jaehyun looks around, but there’s not a trace of the other boy, just an emptiness and large garbage bins nestled at the end of the alleyway.

Bewildered, Jaehyun pinches himself. Hard.

“Ow”