#the doctor who burned it once and grieved and regret and did so much to save it when she had the chance

[liliavalley]

I think I would’ve vibed with the timeless child stuff if they had gone about showing it differently. master shows up like “there’s a big secret that makes our whole history a lie and I destroyed gallifrey over it but I won’t tell you what it is bcs I’m evil again ;)” .. i still don’t even know why all of his previous development as missy just went erased.. what happened to “it’s called friendship”? You’d think with what happened in seasons past he’d at least try to find her Before destroying gallifrey.

[creativeashproductions]

Change of Scenery // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Captain Bobby Nash has kept a secret from his friends, his wife and his step children since 2015 when he came to LA. Bobby’s eldest and only surviving child comes to LA to reconcile and make amends all the while she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed firefighter.

Warnings: Swearing, death/familial loss, pregnancy, blood, angst, injuries/medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 8k

A/N: Back at it with another 9-1-1 fic. Hope you enjoy, and I may just have to do another crossover with 9-1-1 and Julie and the Phantoms.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

There are moments in our lives that define us, whether it can be known as a positive or negative, but the outcome is always the same. A six-letter word that strikes fear and excitement into the souls of humans is change. The fear can be for ourselves or as a result of a child, a sibling, or a parent branching out on their own. Unfortunately, you had gone through a harsh and cruel experience on a cold winter night in the city you grew up in.

A typical Thursday filled with classes at the college you attended in Minnesota on a scholarship, nothing out of the ordinary. The plan had been to drive to your parents’ apartment to catch up with them for the weekend. Saturday morning was already reserved for a girls day with your little sister Brook and your mom. In the afternoon, you’d promised to take your brother Bobby to the ball diamond.

Your bag was packed, the plan to drive straight from class to St. Paul the following day to arrive in the daylight. Your dad struggled with worry when it came to you driving in the dark and especially in winter with icy roads.

“Y/N!” Dottie screeched from the living room of the four-bedroom dormitory. The pretty and curvy brunette had been the first friend you made in college.

Typically Dottie was on the quieter side, so when she screamed, you practically sprinted to the girl.

“Where’s the fire?” You demanded with a smirk at the reference to a topic that was a constant in your family. 

The fire drills your father conducted every four months for an exit plan in case of a fire and general information to save yourselves. He had also trained you to remember fire hazards and how to call dispatch with clear information if that time ever came. It never did and hopefully never would.

“The Lakeview Apartments in St. Paul.” Dottie’s dark brown eyes spoke only of pity and concern. The five foot ten roommate literally caught you as you tumbled into her arms with a loud grief-stricken scream.

You were forever indebted to the brunette for the plans she sacrificed to drive you back to St. Paul. There was absolutely no chance Dottie would allow you to both drive and be alone with no news. The media hadn’t released the names of the 148 deaths the fire relentlessly tore from the land of the living.

“I want to prepare you for what you’ll see. Your mother suffered severe third-degree burns over the majority of her body.” The kind nurse, also one of your friend’s parent, explained as she guided you to the Burn Center in the Regions Hospital, “I don’t want to lie and tell you she’ll be fine. You’re an adult Y/N. You deserve the truth and not be coddled.”

“Is she gonna survive?” You quietly asked, “Has she woken up since she was brought in?”

“The doctor placed her on a high dosage of morphine for the pain. Your father hasn’t left her side.” Lucinda informed you with sympathy written as over her face, The hazel eyes unable to adequately meet yours.

“I’ll check on her, then could you take me to the rooms my siblings are in?” You asked, completely unaware Brook and Bobby had been DOA at the hospital.

Your father hadn’t answered the text messages or the voicemails you had left on his phone—radio silent. You couldn’t be mad when he was with your mom, but a text would have been nice.

“This is where your mother is staying for the unforeseeable future. If you need anything, you can call me.” Lucinda softly replied before turning her heel to head back to the Burn Centre’s front desk.

It was horrific walking into a room with no idea if the occupant who had raised you would survive. The confident, gorgeous mother you had for the past nineteen years was unfamiliar to you, the extensive gauze covering nearly every inch of her body. You almost couldn’t even recognize the man sitting in the chair with his hands wrapped. 

“Dad? What happened?” You questioned the grieving man. The only person left in your family as you would soon come to know.

“Y/N?” Bobby gasped, pushing himself to his feet, staring at his only living child. The guilt ate at him just staring at you with those light brown eyes, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Your dad crossed the room in a few steps. The scent of smoke was still clinging to every part of him, but it was fine. Your dad was okay, minus the wounds on his hands. You’d always been closer with your father than your mother.

“Dad, what happened?” You quietly asked the ashamed firefighter that had to reconcile his feelings on the fire and his career—that struggle ending up pushing you away when he really just wanted you as close as possible.

“The building caught on fire after an ember from a heater lit a blanket on fire,” Bobby informed you with his eyes pinned on his wife. Bobby knew the chances of Marcy surviving were incredibly low, and he had to tell you that.

Bobby only knew the details passed on from a firefighter who pitied the man who’d lost most of his family. 

“Is Mom gonna be okay?” You questioned, and the said injured woman in the bed weakly responded.

“Baby?” Marcy quietly questioned from her absolutely still position on the hospital bed, “Uh, Bobby.”

You left your father’s side to be as close to your mom as possible, with the clear plastic separating you for her safety. Your heart shattered at the sheer exhaustion in her pretty blue eyes. 

“Hi, Mom.” You shakily spoke with one hand lightly pressed against the plastic divider. You didn’t even notice when your dad stepped up too.

“Marcy?” Bobby called out from right beside you, just as torn up, but Bobby carried extra weight on his shoulders, “We’re right here, Marcy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The muffled grunt of pain, your mom’s attempt to save you from grief, Marcy let out as she turned her head to look at you. You knew deep in your gut that this was the time place you would see your mom alive. And by the look in her eyes, she knew too.

“The...kids…?” Your mom’s breathing became more erratic as she questioned the man she viewed as her hero. The man she believed had saved her and their youngest children, “Where...are they?”

“The kids are fine.” The way your father said it and the tears led to the knowledge once kept from you.

“No.” You whispered, seeing the total grief written clear on his face. The pain meds and agony kept your mom from knowing the truth.

“They’re safe.”

“I knew you’d come and save us.” Your mom breathed as her eyes started hiding the pretty blue you’d now only see in pictures. In your dreams, until even those faded as father time cruelly pulled you along.

Then your worst nightmare happened. You watched as the woman you looked up to flatlined with the thought of her children safe. You’d always know she’d held on just long enough to find out the state of her children. You could only hope she’d forgive your father for lying to her as she died.

“Mom!” You screamed, fighting the arms of an orderly restraining you. You barely noticed the resistance to your frantic attempts.

One minute you were staring at a team unsuccessfully trying to revive your long-gone mother, then you were in a hotel room. The atmosphere tense and quiet between father and daughter, with the ghost of your dead family to keep you both company. You could hear Brook gagging every time you’d kissed your now ex. You could see Bobby toddling after you years ago.

At least you had your father—a father whose guilt festered until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“It was my fault.” He murmured, staring at the barely eaten burger that tasted solely just cardboard. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, “I didn’t mean to leave it on.”

Your head snapped to stare at him in disbelief, “What do you mean you didn’t mean to leave it on?”

“I-I went to the roof to sleep after your mom kicked me out. I didn’t have my keys to the apartment I had below ours.” Bobby began spilling the lies he’d told to you about his addictions. Of the apartment, you’d had no clue was even in his possessions.

The pain of losing your family tore into you, “You took my mom away from me. I’ll never get to share my wedding day with her. Shopping for a dress and gossiping about boys. I’ll never be able to wipe Brook’s tears during her first heartbreak.”

Each word broke Bobby more and more.

“You stole my future. You’re selfish, ungrateful and utterly pathetic. You cost so many people so much, all because you sought out your next high.” You spat, glaring at someone you’d never expected to hurt you. You didn’t notice your hands grabbing your possessions nor opening the hotel room door, “You couldn’t even properly try to get clean.”

“Y/N-”

“Get your shit together before you kill anyone else. I never want to see you again.” You sobbed with regret already festering in your body, but pride held you back from apologizing.

Upon your return to your dorm with Dottie by your side, you immediately began the process to enter an exchange program. Within a month, your feet entered Sydney Airport. You didn’t return to America for several years.

You took a job as a casual lifeguard on Bondi Beach, met Lucas in a meet-cute situation at the grocery store. You graduated college and found a job as a paramedic as you began becoming a flight paramedic. In 2020 Lucas and you discovered you’d be bringing in a little baby into the world.

Learning about your little Cashew growing safe in your womb fanned the flame of desire to reconcile. Ultimately the pride kept pushing the urge to apologize for the cruel words you told your father further away. You naively believed you had all the time in the world.  

Remember the six-letter scary word? If losing your mom, siblings, and father was a devastating blow, losing Lucas was nearly tied. Your little Cashew lost their father before they even got to meet him. That was push enough to pack up your home and fly back to America with your father’s new address as soon as you could.

In the fallout of the apartment fire, your father relocated from Minnesota to Los Angeles. 

Los Angeles, 2020

As soon as you’d found the nicest but cheapest hotel to stay in until you found a place, you walked the streets of LA. The first order of business of approaching your father at his workplace as you had no personal address. Residing still in Minnesota, Deputy Chief Evans had only given you the address of Bobby’s work.

You could only hope Bobby wouldn’t turn you away. That he was willing to bridge the gap, you’d widened over the years. That he could forgive the silence to each email, he sent when you changed numbers.

“We should go out to dinner.” The female voice was what brought you back to the present time. The woman was beautiful with her buzzed head and clear skin.

Right by her side was a dark-haired male of Asian ethnicity with a bag thrown over his shoulder, “If you’re paying, you bet I’ll be there.”

The two continued to converse in their own world until the man had to literally dodge you when they finally noticed you.

“Does Chief Bobby Nash work here?” You inquired, having no desire to enter small talk when the baby was sitting on your bladder again. You nearly retched when the man stared down at your swollen midsection, shocked, “It’s not his baby.”

Hen caught the evident disgust on your face, “He’s in his office. I’ll guide you there…”

“Y/N.” You supplied the firefighter. Hen smiled in response, “And your name is…”

“Henrietta Wilson, but you can call me Hen. That was Howard Han. He goes by Chimney, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy on the name.” Hen chuckled in her steps to the closed door of the fire chief. Hen swiftly knocked on the door to give Bobby a heads up.

“Come in!” Bobby called from his pile of paperwork he had pushed and waited to work on. It had slipped as the date came closer. Your twenty-seventh birthday, the seventh one since he last saw you.

“Cap, a woman is asking for you,” Hen told her friend and boss. It’s a good thing you didn’t choose to surprise your father because Hen was shorted, and your bump made manoeuvring around tricky.

“What can I do…” Bobby trailed off when he saw the girl waiting to talk to him. The pen in his hand dropped to the table in shock.

Hen glanced between the two equally taken aback individuals, “Am I missing something here?”

“Hey, dad.” You whispered to the man who’d been dreaming of this moment since the minute you left. He’d searched for you at your previous college and nearly made a missing person report.

“Dad?” Hen couldn’t pick her jaw up from the floor if she even wanted to because this was juicy information. Sure, Bobby had caved into telling his team, his family that he’d lost his wife and two children in a fire.

He rarely talked about his life before the 118, but he’d never mentioned having a surviving daughter. Not in the handful of times he’d talked about the tragedy, nor did he have any objects or photos of you. 

“You’re really here?” Bobby lightly chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. Hen had only seen a handful of times. All of them had Athena in the scene, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You beamed, stepping closer to the man you’d missed dearly, “I’m so sorry for the way I left. What I said was cruel and untrue. You aren’t selfish, and I can’t blame you for something you couldn’t control.”

Bobby grinned. He’d stepped around his desk only to halt when he took in an undeniable development—the baby bump you carried.

“Is-”

“I’m pregnant. Six months along with a baby girl.” You laughed to the apparent disbelief in your father’s light brown eyes. His gaze continued to shift between the bump and your e/c eyes.

“Wow. Sorry, this is...wow.” 

“She’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back. To fix our relationship because I want her to know her grandpa. You’re the only grandparent Poppy will know.” Bobby was quick to tug you into his arms as soon as the first tear dropped down your cheek.

There was so much you wanted to tell your father, but that overwhelming grief rose higher. You’d left Australia where Lucas laid in a plot in a cemetery. You left the friends you’d found in the city. Left the lifeguard job you’d come to love.

“Where are you and your partner staying?”

“He...uh...Lucas passed away recently.”

The arms holding you tightened in response to your confession, “Oh sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t stay in the home we bought. Not the place he died when I couldn’t save him.”

“I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’-”

“Don’t coddle me. I was...am a paramedic. A flight paramedic, to be specific, so I know that my hesitation could be the reason he died.”

Your career took the father by complete and utter surprise because you’d always planned on a different job. Before the fire that claimed so many lives, you’d never entertained a career in the emergency field.

“We have a lot to catch up on. First, you need to know that I’ll always love your mother no matter what, but you need to know. I met someone when I first moved here, and we were friends at first. She divorced her husband. We started dating...sweetheart, I remarried.”

A wave of emotions flared in your chest, from betrayal to sadness and ultimately happiness. Having lost your first love, you understood and knew if love came around for you, you wouldn’t ignore it. Lucas wouldn’t want that.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

Re-entering into Bobby’s new life was a difficult adjustment for everyone included. Tension had risen between Athena and Bobby for a brief period. Athena hadn’t even been aware of your existence, but she could fault Bobby. Athena had even told her first husband about her late fiance Emmett when they were still together.

It was difficult for you with the new addition of two step-siblings in the same birth order as Brook and Bobby had been. The Grant siblings had welcomed you into the family without any reservations.

“Did you ever get to fly the chopper?” Harry asked as he scrubbed the dirty dish from the Sunday family dinner. 

It was the first dinner that had no awkward tension since you arrived back in the country. Athena had taken a bit to warm up, but it was nothing personal. She’d actually been the one to find you you’d been staying at a hotel. Mama Athena did not like her pregnant step-daughter living at a hotel. She’d actually stormed your room with Hen and Karen as back up to pack your room and leave for the Grant-Nash house.

“No. I had to help keep the patients alive. If I’m telling the truth...sometimes I didn’t even notice I was in the air.” You whispered to your stepbrother. He was just invested in your career as he had been when Bobby first entered their lives.

“That is so cool!” Harry enthused with soap suds splashing your thin knitted sweater. Harry’s mouth formed an ‘o’ when you flicked water onto his face in retaliation.

“Do you know Bondi Beach in Australia?” You inquired the youth with the chore of dishes completed.

“Yeah! There’s a tv show called Bondi Rescue! I watch the clips on YouTube!” Harry exclaimed, hot on your heels to the couch. Out of May and Harry, he followed you around with questions about your life in Australia.

“I was a casual lifeguard. I’m not featured on that show, but I would get called in when a lifeguard was needed. It paired well with my job as a flight paramedic.” You half-smiled, remembering the Bondi lifeguards who had welcomed you into the family. You became one of them when they started pranking you.

“Did you ever see a shark-”

“Harry, go brush your teeth. Leave Y/N alone.” Athena informed her youngest from the open patio doors. Your father, Athena and May had been outside as soon as the table had been cleared.

“But-”

“Harry,” Athena warned the youngest Grant. Harry didn’t attempt to argue with his stern mother; all he did was hug you quickly. You watched the young boy disappear into the hallway.

“He reminds you of your little brother?” Athena questioned. In your time of reminiscing, the older woman had settled in Harry’s previous position.

“A little.” You whispered, “Thank you for welcoming me into the family. For making my dad happy.”

“You know I may have some baby clothes put away if you’d like to use them?” Athena offered with that smile that made you feel at home. Athena was far different from your late mother, with her presence commanding respect and intelligence. Your mom was similar, but I suppose it could be described as a softer touch.

“Anyway, saving a penny is appreciated. I have a question for you also.” You hesitantly started with a bundle of nerves deep in your belly. Athena turned to give you her full attention.

“Well? Out with it.” Athena pushed, but she had a slight feeling of what you were about to ask her.

“My mom was one the strongest women I know. It hurts that my baby won’t get to experience her love and guidance, and you can say no. We’ve only known each other a short time, but would you consider...maybe being a grandma to my baby?”

Giddy was the feeling Athena developed along with the laughing smile that only came from happiness. The woman could only nod her head in response to your hesitant question. To Athena’s knowledge but not yours, Bobby was softly smiling, watching his formerly estranged daughter getting along with your stepmom.

“Oh!” You gasped as your baby kicked hard enough for her foot imprint to be seen through your knitted sweater. 

Bobby was by your side in concern the second he heard your startled sound, but Athena wasn’t that concerned. Athena remembered having the same reaction.

“Are you okay?” Bobby frantically questioned. He faltered when the woman shared a belly-deep laugh at the sheer fear written in the seasoned firefighter’s eyes.

“Poppy was kicking.” You chuckled as your father’s shoulders dropped in relief, “Here.”

Your nimble fingers clasped around your father’s wrist to bring his palm to the spot Poppy was kicking. A certain lightness flooded your entire body, being capable of sharing this experience with Bobby. Watching tears well up in the grandpa to be’s brown eyes.

“Whoa.” Bobby breathlessly spoke as Poppy kicked against his palm. The feeling building in his was exhilarating with the small amount of grief mixed in, “I remember when your mom was pregnant with you. We didn’t know if we were having a girl or boy, but she was adamant you would be a kickboxer. So active.”

Athena watched as the relationship between father and daughter started healing directly in front of her eyes. The Sergeant was about to give you two some privacy when you caught her hand in your free one.

“Here.” You informed the older woman shifting to place her hand where your father’s hand had previously been. Your e/c eyes sought the wonder-filled different shades of brown eyes the couple had.

“You should get some sleep,” Athena spoke, staring at her hand resting on your bump. Her dark chocolate brown rising to find your gaze, “You won’t be getting a lot once she arrives.”

Bobby and Athena watched as you turned the corner to the spare room Athena’s parents used when they visited. For the time being, you’ve moved into the room, and the Grant-Nash house hoped you would stay. May had always wanted a sister, and Harry loved all the stories you told about Australia.

“You know, at some point, you’ll have to talk to her.”

“I just was-’

“-without anyone else being the buffer. Bobby, both your lives is evidence enough that some things are too trivial to stress over.” Athena pinned her stern gaze on her husband. The same husband is actively trying to avoid her penetrating gaze.

“What I did-’

“Is in the past, Bobby. You have a second chance with that wonderful woman in that bedroom and our grandchild. Now, are you sure that having the party at the firehouse is okay?”

A hand supported the base of your back where an ache tended to stay for most of the day. That ache wasn’t the worst symptom of your pregnancy. You had heartburn constantly that tied with unfortunate constipation that had thankfully lessened. Your purse always had a cardigan for the hot flashes as well.

“Perfect! May has my car, and Bobby needed that.” Athena beamed from the open bay of the 118. One of the firefighters, Eddie, if you recalled, snagged your purse and the specific ingredient for a recipe.

“You could have borrowed Bobby’s-”

“His vehicle is in the shop Buck.” Athena interrupted the only member of the 118 you had let to officially meet.

Now there were two suspects of the sudden shortness of breath you started experiencing. It could be Poppy in the limited space in your body or the handsome firefighter. Buck had to be hands down none of the most attractive men you’d ever encountered. His dark blonde hair had minimal height, but the soft waves made your fingers itch to feel it. His ocean blue eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.

“Ah, so you’re flesh and blood of Cap?” Buck questioned from in front of you. His blue eyes centred solely on you, with half a mind thanking himself that he could navigate the station blindfolded in the dark.

“For the last twenty-seven years, I have been.” You retorted, stopping at the edge of the stairs to the apparatus. Your keen sense of smell catching one of your favourite meals your father had dug up from the recipes he hadn’t used in years.

A zing of electricity trailed off your arm when a calloused palm met yours. Your e/c eyes followed the path of tan skin until it reached the shirt sleeve of Buck’s t-shirt. The shirt emblazoned on the chest with the department’s insignia. The man in the casual uniform guided you safely up the stairs with his hand on your back.

The pressure of Buck’s hand on your aching back muscle nearly brought what would be an embarrassing moan from your lips. Thankfully a gasp of surprise fell out instead at the banner hanging with other decorations.

“What?” You choked, cupping your hands to your face. Pure unadulterated shock and affection flooded every inch of you.

The entire 118 squad intermixed with their loved ones surrounded the open area with grins. On a table behind everyone was many wrapped gifts. But the cake was the most impressive.

A large rectangular cake in the realistic shape of a fire engine parked in front of a fire hydrant with a fondant hose going to the truck. On top of the fire truck was the turnout boots next to the matching helmet, the 118 proudly on it. You adored the turnout coat draping off the top to hang off the side.

“If you look at the helmet, it says Poppy.” Buck enthused, guiding you even closer to catch the immaculate cake, “It has to be the best cake we’ve gotten from them.”

“Hey, my rebar head cake was phenomenal!” Chimney called with a belying grin on his face. His hand encased by a brunette woman about his height with her heels on.

“It’s a long story.” Buck offered as soon as you gave him a weird questioning look, “Let me introduce you to everyone!”

For the next five minutes, you spend it by meeting the family of 118, including Eddie’s completely adorable son. Christopher was happy to sit next to you as soon as Harry had found you. Slowly the others came closer to hear the stories.

“What’re the most common injuries on the beach?” Denny, Hen and Karen’s ten-year-old son questioned.

“Bluebottle Jellyfish stings. On one day, we had hundreds of people come to the tower for stings, and the treatment for the minor ones is stingose spray and ice.”

“My question is how a girl from Minnesota is a lifeguard in Australia. Especially on Sydney’s most dangerous beach.” Chimney inserted, waving his bottle of pop at you, his eyes kept moving towards the wine Maddie brought.

Unfortunately, the 118 wouldn’t be celebrating with the wine until their shifts ended in a few short hours. It was a damn miracle they hadn’t been called out yet.

“This former Minnesotan spent summers at my best friend’s parents’ place in Cali as a lifeguard. Also, Bondi is not the most dangerous beach in Sydney. That’s Tamarama.” You pointed towards the man who raised his hands in surrender.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” Harry asked, bringing a sobering silence in the question’s wake.

Your body language changed as soon as he asked, “Unfortunately, I’ve seen death as a paramedic and as a lifeguard.”

“You’re a paramedic? I thought you were just a lifeguard?” Buck asked, interested in the new information. Buck could feel his Captain’s eyes on the back of his head; he was sure Bobby could smell the attraction on Buck.

“Casual lifeguard. Called when needed as a backup.” You turned your e/c eyes towards the arguably youngest member of the 118.

“How many dead-”

“Harry.” Athena warned her son from continuing a topic that killed the ease and happiness you’d shown previously, “Why don’t we stop talking about-”

“Too many, Harry.” You interrupted your stepmom with a gentle smile towards the woman, “It’s not just drowning that claims lives but also the cliffs surrounding the beaches. Lifeguards patrol more than the beaches and water. Lifeguards respond to medical emergencies, mostly spinal until the paramedics arrive.”

“Oh-”

“I had a fellow lifeguard leave the job because of the suicides we deal with.”

“...who wants cake?” Karen used the quiet interlude of the much too serious topic for a group of kids barely in the double digits of ages. All referenced children followed Hen’s life to the beautiful baked creation.

“Sorry for getting dark there.”

“We all know the dark side of the jobs we chose to do. You sound like you miss Australia. Are you going to return there?” Eddie questioned with one eye pinned on his son, consuming more sugar than he wished.

Eddie’s question did raise self-doubt, but you knew that ultimately living in Australia was no longer a viable option. 

“There’s nothing there for me.”

Eddie, Buck and your father understood that mentality to a ‘t’ with family complications keeping them away. Your father for obvious reasons, whereas Eddie and Buck each had a living family with opinions only they saw right.

“You’re always welcome here. Especially when you bring that little cutie to the firehouse.” Maddie cooed towards your baby bump. The 911 dispatcher had asked many questions about your pregnancy.

 Maddie was the type of person who could make a stranger feel like they had known for their entire lives.

“Here.”

A plate of the cake was thrust in front of your face courtesy of Maddie’s brother Buck. It is quite literally the perfect size you could ask for. In his other hand, he had a new bottle of water waiting for you to grab.

“Thank you, Buck.” Your shock must have shown in your voice when his cheeks flushed.

“This whole party is a celebration for you, so you shouldn’t have to get up...unless you want to!” Buck rushed to respond, getting more flustered with the amused look of his older sister on him, “You’re already doing something absolutely amazing, so you should get to rela-”

“Buck!” You laughed, ending the older man’s rambling thoughts. The entire party attendees had started watching Buck’s failed smooth attempt.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Buck mutely nodded in response, “No prob-”

The bell was the one to interrupt him instead. The on-duty firefighters rushed down from the upper levels to the lockers. The swift suiting up impressed you as it was like you blinked, and the bay was empty.

“Should be the last call before they get off shift.” Maddie, still occupied with the cake she was eating, “That wine looks so good!”

Your attention snapped from the vacant spots the 118 vehicles parked to the woman ploughing down on the cake. Sure it was good, but not that good. Maybe you could tell as a pregnant woman, or perhaps you just caught some of the symptoms you felt.

“How far along are you?”

Maddie froze, “What are you talk-”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Chim and I found out recently, but we want to wait on telling people. Once the first trimester is over, everyone can know.” Maddie pleaded with two hands cupped under her chin in a prayer position. The pretty brunette using the puppy dog eyes on the new friend she’d made.

“You should tell Buck-”

“We will once we enter the safe zone. So tell me about your baby’s father.” Maddie swiftly changed the subject, unaware of the ache developing in your midsection.

“Lucas Gowan.” You mussed, recalling the freckled half Australian half Scots man with the thick red locks.

“Ooh, is he still in Australia?”

“Technically, he is. I met him at the grocery store near the university campus. I’d transferred to escape my grief. It was purely an attraction at first sight before developing into love at first sight. We convocated and moved into a cosy little place. We’d only just found out about the baby when Lucas passed away.”

As you told Maddie, your hand had moved to cradle the only remaining piece of Lucas. 

“His death was unexpected and sudden. He’d taken a run the morning of our scan to find out baby Gowan’s gender. He fell off the side of the cliff. I was told he died instantly. The investigator believes his shoelace untied, and he stepped on it. Fell right off the side.”

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie breathed, leaning closer to hold your hands in her own, “He’d be so proud of you. For returning to the states. Do you keep in contact with his family?”

“He was an only child. Parents died in a car accident when he was ten years old. He was in foster care until he aged out of the system. Poppy is named after his mom.”

Maddie instinctively knew talking about Lucas was, “You know you get along pretty well with Buck... I’ve never seen him so flustered.”

“Maddie, I can tell you are a very intelligent woman, but you’re wrong here. Why would a guy like Buck be interested in a pregnant woman with a reconciling relationship with her father and his Captain while grieving her baby’s dad?”

Maddie tilted her head to the side, “Because I know my brother. He’s only ever had that look when I first moved to LA. Back when Abby was still important to him.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

Maddie’s mouth opened to speak, but you were saved by the bell when Athena called you over for pictures. Then her attempts got thwarted once more when the 118 returned to the house perfectly synced to the end of shift.

“Driving here was the last time until the baby’s here. You’ve got precious cargo-”

“I’m seven months pregnant; I can still drive. There’s no law saying I can’t-”

Never argue with Athena Grant-Nash, “It may not be illegal, but I won’t endanger my daughter or my granddaughter.”

“I have to get to my OB/GYN appointment tomorrow. You and Dad each have a long shift during my scheduled appointment. Harry is both too young to drive and in school. May has a shift at dispatch. There’s literally no one available to take me.”

Bobby watched as two of the most important women in his life argued over something as trivial as driving. Harry shook at listening to someone fighting against his mother; she could be terrifying.

“I can take her.”

Everyone in the fir house turned to the voice who’d offered suddenly and found the sheepish form of a tall firefighter. Eddie’s eyebrows raised at his best friend.

“I don’t work tomorrow. I’ve got no plans. Albert’s got some date with a girl at her place.”

“I couldn’t put you out.”

“You need a ride, and I’ll be bored, so why not take my new friend to her baby doctor.”

“Baby doctor?” Hen parroted to her wife in astonishment towards her coworker and close friend. Both the women found the blatant flirting from Buck to the soon to be mother.

“She’ll take you up on the offer. She’s staying in our guest room. Come early for breakfast before you go. We’ll be having waffles.”

Buck found any excuse to visit the Grant-Nash home with the motive to hang out with you ever since the baby shower. From delivering baked goods from your favourite bakery to insisting on driving you to appointments. Didn’t matter if Athena or Bobby could take you; Buck was adamant he drove you.

The friendship was easy going and very natural, like a ball glove still moulded perfectly to your hand. The hangouts in your home evolved to weekly visits to restaurants with guidelines to the current event happening worldwide. 

Ultimately it even led to a test date.

“You look breathtaking.” Buck breathlessly informed you once he’d gently pushed your chair closer to the table.

“Thank you.” You kindly responded despite thinking the complete opposite to the charming man sitting across from you.

Athena and May had helped you get ready for the date with calming words on how going on a date so far into the pregnancy was okay. Then, your father had tentatively inserted himself with sage advice on re-entering the dating scene.

“I thought we could grab some ice cream after,” Buck spoke up as soon as the waiter had taken your drink order. Buck had decided to refrain from alcohol and went with glasses of lemonade and water.

“You shouldn’t say that. I’ll just want ice cream.” You snickered, caressing the taut belly you’d grown to love. In fact, the firm push of a heel announced Poppy’s agreement with ice cream as dessert.

“How is Poppy?”

“The doc says she’s right on track. Healthy all around and in the position, she’s supposed to be at this stage.” Buck adored the affectionate smile that always appeared when the topic of your pregnancy was brought up.

“That’s amazing! Bobby gushes about you and Poppy. The fridge has an entire door dedicated to sonograms of Poppy. Even a few from that maternity shoot Hen and Maddie surprised you with.”

A few weeks had passed since the baby shower the 118 had surprised you with. Maddie had announced her pregnancy to the joy of the chosen family she had. Bobby had put together a crib he had painted. Michael, Athena’s ex-husband, had started making plans for adding on to the house for a room for the baby.

Despite informing the architect, you planned on moving out when you had saved enough, he’d made a sound argument. Athena would want a place for the baby to stay when you visited, or the woman demanded to babysit.

Now you found yourself in a National forest not far from Los Angeles, posing in front of nature. A surprise photoshoot Hen and Karen had organized with Karen’s brother Trey. Maddie and Athena had been the ones who drove you.

“Hold the teddy bear on your bump,” Trey informed you from behind his professional and intimidating camera. The photographer praised you in the rapid movement to listen to his offer.

“Hey! Maddie! You should take a few photos. I need a pee break.” You didn’t wait for Maddie to respond in your rush to the somewhat rustic bathroom hut.

By the time you returned, Maddie was taking a couple pictures. Then you took some with Athena to have on the nursery walls and for Bobby to have a photo for his desk.

“Now one with all three of you.”

Present

“So a daredevil.” You stated unsurprised that the firefighter had a history of recklessness. You don’t go into firefighting without a taste for danger.

“The bruises and blood fit better than the awful bleached hair during my time in Peru.” Buck laughed, recalling the questionable choice in his fashion pre-firefighting. Sometimes he missed the people he encountered in his period of self-discovery.

“You didn’t wear puka sh-”

“I did. Bleached hair, puka shells and Hawaiian shirts were my staples during my bartending years. I fit in with the aesthetic of the bar I tended.”

“Buck!” You nearly gasped at his raw honesty. Buck didn’t hold back any answers to your questions, but you each strayed from the topic of family.

Talking about the tragic family history wasn’t a good idea on the first time regardless of the time you’d known each other.

“You’re telling me-” Buck halted as soon as he caught the flash of discomfort flicker over your beautiful features, “Are you okay?”

“She shifted. Been sitting on my blad-” You cut yourself off with a hiss of pain. Buck’s eyes widened at the pain taking over your features, “Oh, that hurt.”

Buck went straight into work mode, “Have you been in pain for long?”

“No. A few cramps here and there today, but my doctor said it was nothing to worry about.” You informed the experienced first responder resting level to your knees.

Buck didn’t want to say it, but he was sure that you’d gone into early labour. There was no indication your water had broken, but he kept over the last hour together. Every once in a while, you shifted or pressed a hand to your bump.

“Has your water broken?”

You shook your head, “No, but...oh... that’s not a cramp.”

With that statement out, you clenched your fingers tight on the edge of the table as pain rippled in your belly. A contraction that stole your breath momentarily. In your contraction, Buck had dialled 911. Buck recalled that sometimes a woman’s water doesn't break until right before the birth.

“We’re not getting that ice cream, are we?” You snorted upon being lifted onto the gurney. How fortunate or unfortunate you were to have the 118 right there.

Hen had taken a position at your feet to check on your lower body while Chimney took your vital signs. You honestly didn’t like the look Hen and Chimney shared with Buck.

“What is it?”

“We’re gonna need to deliver here.” Hen sighed, giving you the facts that terrified you. When you envisioned having the baby, it was in a medical centre. Not in a restaurant.

“My office is large and away from the crowd if you want. I can show you the way.” Sophie, the restaurant manager, offered already starting to lead the way. Sophie would never know how thankful you felt for being able to have privacy.

“Okay, Y/N, is it okay if I check how dilated you -.” Hen breathed with her hand, gently disappearing until the thin blanket Chimney procured from the stocked ambulance, “Y/N when I saw I want you to do that.”

Hen didn’t need to check your dilation when she could see the baby’s head already.

“I’m right here.” Buck cooed in your ear. He had held your hand as his coworkers did their jobs around you.

“This isn’t the way I envisioned you seeing my pu-”

“Push.” Hen urged, cutting off your almost vulgar language, but it eased the tension in the small restaurant office. You couldn’t even see Buck’s flustered reaction as you bore down with the contraction, “Good! Take a breath.”

“You’re a strong woman. It never ceases to amaze me the strength women have.” Buck spoke, keeping your e/c eyes on his blue ones. His hand raised to push a strand of your sweaty hair off your temple.

“Once more push!” Hen called out just in time with the last contraction. The feeling of the pressure between your legs popping was moan inducing.

Poppy was silent. Your entire body froze, yearning for the sweet sound of crying instead of the eerie silence. The world stood still as Chimney worked on your baby girl.

“Pulse is strong,” Chimney announced, keeping his attention on the task of clearing Poppy’s throat and nose. And that sweet sound of crying commenced, “Congratulations Y/N, you have a beautiful baby girl. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Your father beat the ambulance to the nearest ER in pure anticipation at meeting his granddaughter Poppy Nash Gowan. He barely noticed as Buck stuck to your side like glue. Bobby waited outside the door as you got checked over in the room.

“Quite the first date.” You mused towards Buck, who hovered in awe over the life form you had carried for nine months. You’d been pregnant for three quarters of an entire year to his fascination. 

“All my meaningful relationships started with a medical emergency.” Buck finally looked up at you. He’d kept Poppy company in the bassinet while you delivered the afterbirth upon entering the hospital.

“Seriously?”

“Had a tracheostomy on Valentine’s Day with Abby, an earthquake with Ali and a newscaster in a crashed helicopter.” Buck listed off. He hadn’t even noticed scooping the newborn into his arms until he’d sat in the chair by your bed, “Why not add a sudden labour and delivery.”

“He would have liked you.”

The sentence came out of absolutely nowhere. Almost like something had ripped it out of your vocal cords. At the look of confusion, you elaborated.

“Lucas. He would have liked you. I think if it is possible, he might have pushed me into meeting you. I’ll still need to take it slow, but I’d like to give this a shot.”

That was all Buck needed to lean in closer to kiss you—the first of many kisses.

Some might disagree on how quick your relationship with Buck developed, but they didn’t know yours at all. It was natural with the firefighter who stepped into the role of father figure for a growing Poppy. By the time Poppy was one, you’d moved into a house not far from your father’s place with Buck. By the time Poppy was three, a pretty ring had sat on your finger. By five, the young girl had a baby brother. 

“Your parents spoil Poppy.”

“You say that like you didn’t crawl into her crib during her afternoon naps.” You deadpanned towards your husband. Buck had the nerve to sheepishly grin, “You give in each time she says ‘pwetty pwease’ for a cookie.”

“It’s a crime to make her sad!” Buck defended himself, but a grin of amusement threatened his act, “Besides, you crack each time too!”

“Mhm. Just wait until Theo can talk.” You pressed a kiss to the sleeping infant strapped into the baby carrier. Theodore Robert Buckley could fall asleep in a thunderstorm if he was in Buck’s arms.

“Oh! Maddie wants to have Poppy over for a play date. Madster’s been begging for her cousin to have a sleepover.”

Maddie and Chimney’s daughter was only a few months younger than your daughter, but the two were thick as thieves. Buck had referred to the Han daughter as Madster with how similar her mannerisms were to her mother.

“Think they’d take the rascal?”

“Is this code for you wanting to have another?” Buck questioned with a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. The same blue Theo had inherited along with a birthmark like Buck’s on his bicep.

“I-” You choked, blinking furiously, “Evan, I pushed Theo out of my body barely three months ago!”

Buck inconspicuously winked in response with the sudden scream of excitement coming from Poppy. The rambunctious five-year-old ploughed into Buck’s legs full force. Falling into the practised ease, you’d unstrapped Theo from Buck’s chest and promptly had his tiny body stolen into his grandpa’s arms.

“There’s my boy.” Bobby cooed to the sleep drunk tiny infant. The little baby is crowded by his Gram Athena and Aunt May, “Gonna have to get you a Minnesota Wilds jersey.”

“Hell no. That boy is LA born and bred. He’ll be wearing a Kings jersey like the civilized.” Michael announced with the sudden arrival of Theo and Poppy’s Uncle Harry.

“Mommy? When are we going to Stralia?” Poppy inquired from right beside your leg. Her tiny handheld is the giant one of her dad.

“In a few weeks. Are you excited to see the mommy’s old friends again?”

“Hm. Can we see Dada?”

Buck may be Poppy’s father, but he’d never let Poppy go without knowing she had two fathers in all. Her first one waiting to meet here decades from the time she was born and solely referenced Lucas as Dada. Buck was grateful for the man who brought Poppy into existence; the little green-eyed tot Buck could never regret. Unlike Buck’s parents keeping his older brother’s existence a secret, the firefighter refused to follow in their footsteps. He’d continue to shower the late Lucas in gratitude and respect. He refused to make the same mistakes as Phillip and Margaret Buckley.

“Of course. C’mon Poppy, time to say goodbye.” Buck guided the little girl to the extended family showering her little brother with love. The little girl was quickly swung into Bobby’s arms, and Athena cooing at your infant son.

Changes. The six-letter word doesn’t have to be terrifying. It can be breathtaking, memorable and beautiful to experience. 

Tag List(s):  (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

9-1-1 Taglist:

@julessbrown 

Julie and the Phantoms Taglist:

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, got any good old (maybe new?) bedsharing fics for a fanfic obsessed lurker?

Thanks 😘

Hey Nonny!!

Hahha! I actually just did a list recently of my old ones, but I just double-checked my offline lists and I actually DO have some fics on my next Bed Sharing list, so GUESS WHAT? Your ask is the one to start the next Bed Sharing one, LOL.

As usual, if anyone has any they’d like to add, especially if they’re brand new fics, let us know! <3

BEDSHARING Pt. 5

See also:

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing “Just Happens”

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind.

And When The Night Is Over by Simply Isnt On (K, 329 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Platonic Bed Sharing / Not Slash) – Sherlock and John sleep together.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sleep Tonight by Jenn1984 (T, 1,220 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Bed Sharing, Worried Sherlock, Sick John, Hugs/Cuddles, Touch Neediness) – Fingers begin prying open his jacket looking for a wound and John would really like to swat at them. No, he's not hit anywhere, he's just damn sick.- John Watson has a fever.

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

The Perfect Place by SilverSmile (K+, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Romance, 5 and Ones, Fluff, Experiments, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock attempts to find the perfect place to sleep, but his little experiment proves to be far more difficult than expected.

Insomnia by TheSingingGirl (K+, 2,635 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Humour, Bed Sharing, Sleepy Sherlock) – Sleep is merely the next frontier in what has become the battle to keep Sherlock alive. It's because of this that John ends up in bed with a sociopath.

Human Body Pillow by Lunavere (K, 4,122 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Sleepy Johnlock, Bed Sharing) – A story about the five times John fell asleep on Sherlock, and the one time Sherlock fell asleep on him.

The Myth by AGirloftheSouth (M, 4,329 w., 1 Ch || Sex Toys / Anal Beads, PWP, Romance, Bottom John, Prostate Stimulation) – Sherlock believes something to be a myth. John proves him wrong.

When We Sleep by PrincessNala (K+, 6,660 w., 1 Ch || Post-TGG,  Alternating POV, Bed Sharing, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, Hugs) – Sherlock needed to feel every beat of his heart, every rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was the only way to completely assure himself that John was alive and right there next to him, and not dead, no, never dead…

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

There's So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.9

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Nine: illicit affairs: The direct aftermath of Spencer’s confession. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading.     Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, talk of breakup/s, cheating, very angsty, a tiny tiny bit of fluff, this whole series is a real slow burn

series masterlist

A/N: thank you for the continuous love you are showing to this little story! i can’t put into words how much it means to me, truly!! thank you also to those who expressed whether they would prefer this chapter to be happy or painful, you all really inspired me!! ENJOY!

-

“P-please say something.” Spencer’s plea was barely a whisper.

Time stood still in that moment. His heart was now in his throat, his hands trembling against your soft skin. He could see the sadness in your eyes, the conflict. Hurting you was exactly the thing he wanted to avoid. And as he silently observed the uncertainty cloud your features, his soul ached.

“I-I.. Spencer, I…”

There was a period of time after your breakup where you imagined something like this happening perhaps a million times. Where you wished he’d tell you all of the things he just did. Like a wild dream. A happy dream where you would say you loved him too. He would wrap his large arms around your frame, and never let go again.

This felt nothing like that. This was more like a nightmare.

His voice was ringing in your ears, the confession replaying on loop. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to think. You felt betrayed by the man standing in front of you. Betrayed by the words he said.

Most importantly, you felt betrayed by your own feelings.

“Please leave.” You finally uttered, chin trembling.

The sentence came out croaky, broken even, but Spencer heard you. Pain rushed through him, burning his skin inside out. He twitched his nose in a failed attempt at trying to fight back his own tears.

He was prepared for this outcome, he knew it was a possibility. He knew there was a chance you would distance yourself from him. He knew you might get angry. After all, the kiss you shared two months ago didn't compare to what he just weighed off his chest. Especially if you didn't feel the same way.

In this moment however, as he held your face and looked deep into your eyes, his heart was in agony. He wasn't ready to let you go.

“Please leave.” You repeated a little more determined. Your hands quickly travelled to his in an effort to free yourself from his strong embrace.

“Y/N, don’t do this. W-we can talk this out.” Spencer begged, not wanting to let you slip away. “You’re the most important person in my life Y/N. I need you. I-I know that’s unfair. And I know it was unfair to tell you the truth about how I truly feel now, after all this time. I know that. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Please-e don’t tell me to leave, please. I need y-you.”

“W-what, what about what I need?”

By now, the tears streaming down your face were resembling a waterfall. Everything was heavy, especially your heart. Conflicting emotions circling through you causing your head to spin. You felt like you were losing your mind. As if the room was getting smaller, and the walls were closing in.

“What about what I need, Spencer?!” You cried out, sadness slowly dissipating into anger. Your hands moved to his chest. You pushed him backwards, little by little, struggling to break free. “Get out! Get out! Get out.. Get out...” Your voice faded.

The brunette doctor let his arms fall. Completely defeated he took a step back, giving you space to breathe. Hastily, he wiped his tears away before proceeding to run his fingers through his hair.

An agonising silence filled the room. The two of you stared at one another, both afraid to speak up first. Afraid to somehow make this worse. Salty droplets continued to stream down your face as you tried to organise your thoughts, and your conflicting feelings.

There was no denying you loved Spencer too. You realised now more than ever that you always have. But you also loved Ethan, and you couldn't just walk away from a relationship you tried so hard to build. A relationship that to a certain extent helped you get over the very man standing in front of you.

Which is what hurt the most - Spencer’s impeccably terrible timing.

“W-why didn't you say anything sooner?” You sniffled. “I-I waited for you. After we broke up, before I met Ethan, I waited for you. I-I wanted you Spencer, and you never said anything. You never showed any inclination that you wanted me back. Why?”

The one-worded question lingered in the air. Heavy. Shattering.

Spencer sniffled quietly. A broken look was visible on his features; one to match yours. Tears slowly trailing down his jawline.

“B-because... Because....” He stuttered. Mind racing as he tried to collect his thoughts. Truthfully, Spencer didn't have an answer to that question. He didn't have a good enough reason. “I-I was afraid. I was afraid if I said something I would lose you all over again.”

“How much does it hurt knowing you lost me anyway?” It was the wrong thing to say. You regretted it the second it escaped your lips.

Heartbreak is a whole-body response. Similar to a grieving process, there are a number of stages. A number of reactions. It spreads through the nervous system, the respiratory system, and the endocrine system. It spreads until you’re unable to function.

Your words were ringing in Spencer’s ears. He felt nauseous. The room was spinning. Everything he feared was coming true.

Heartbreak doesn't just affect the heart and brain. It’s a lot more complicated than that.

“Y-you don't mean that.” He whispered, taking a hazy step towards you. “I-I know you don't mean that. Please, Y/N...”

The way he said your name made your heart ache even more. You didn’t want to cause him any pain, just like you knew his intentions weren’t malicious either. Yet, the two of you stood across from one another with nothing between you but hurt.

“I love you. And I-I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but please don’t tell me to go. Please don’t shut me out.” Spencer pleaded. His hands found yours, and he held them close to his chest. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you Y/N.” He repeated.

Sniffling, you swallowed your breath. The waterfall ended. Instead, it was replaced by lone wet droplets gradually trailing down your features.

“I love you too.” You expressed in a soft voice before meeting his wandering gaze.

Spencer blinked. His heart fluttered as he registered what you admitted.

“Y-you do?” He didn't think he’d be lucky enough to hear you say those three words again and mean it. Really mean it. Of course he hoped you would. After all, you said them earlier tonight. However, right now it was different. He felt it with every fibre of his being. You loved him back.

“Of course I do! Of course I love you! I always have, and I’m pretty sure I will never stop.” You admitted. The words spilling out of you with such ease you knew it was a sign what you were saying was true. “No-one makes me feel the way you do.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips. “B-but I can’t love you, Spencer. I’m getting married.”

“If Ethan doesn’t make you feel-” He began, but you quickly cut him off.

“You’re the love of my life Spencer. My soulmate. You came into my life at exactly the right time and made it so much richer. You helped me become the person I am today. Our connection is so strong, we can understand each other without a word. We’re combined through heart and mind, and I will never regret the time we spent together. I will never regret loving you.” You revealed. “E-Ethan, however, Ethan is my life partner. He gives me comfort. He’s my right hand. Our bond grows stronger with everyday menial tasks.”

“I could be your life partner Y/N if you just gave me a chance.” Spencer’s hands moved to your cheeks once again, cupping them gently. “You told me you wanted to marry me before, we can do that.”

“Spencer...”

“Y/N, there is no doubt in my mind that I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have me.”

It was a proposal. A marriage proposal.

Spencer didn't have to specify, you knew that it was. You knew what he meant. He didn't have to get down on one knee with a diamond ring in hand. He didn't have to ask, ‘will you marry me?’. He didn't have to make it intentionally romantic. His words alone were evidence enough. Spencer Reid wanted to marry you.

“I-I, I need some time to think. I-I can’t just drop everything and run away with you. I hope you understand that Spencer.”

The hazel-eyed doctor slowly nodded his head. “Take all the time you need Y/N. I’ll wait. I will always wait for you.”

And with that, his lips found yours.

Despite the complicated situation you both found yourselves in. Despite the difficult position, and the choice you were now facing. He held you as close as it was humanely possible. Nothing mattered. The world slipped away. Your hands moved around his neck. Heartbeats syncing into one. 

Both of you revelling in the thought you found each other once again.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

-

A/N: hope you liked this chapter and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

sdra2 boys reactions to a first kiss from their s/o-

Here you go! These turned out a bit longer than expected haha (plus I almost forgot Hajime aaaaaa)

.........

Teruya

The former merchant was grieving over his friends again, but as much as he tried hiding it--he knew he couldn’t keep it bottled up around you. So he just let himself curl into your arms, clutching the goggles of a certain pilot.

He felt childish for crying like this, though you didn’t judge him, nor the tears that soaked your shirt. Instead you held him close, running a hand through his hair. 

Teruya found that talking about the good memories--as good as any memories of being trapped in the academy could be--with the pilot helped ease his troubled mind. Plus you were curious about his friendship with him.

“He seemed like a comedic guy,” you smiled softly. “A guy with a good heart.”

“Yeah, th-that was Haru alright..” He sniffled, sighing as he felt himself calming down. “Okay..I think I’m alright now. Th-Thank you for listening.”

"Of course, but hmm..I know what’ll cheer you up, Ruya.”

As he raised his head to look at you, what he didn’t expect was to feel you lips against his. But for a first kiss...it was so soft and sweet, just like you’ve always been to him.

You could see a blush on his face as you broke the kiss. He tried to speak, but could only babble random nonsense, to which you just chuckled. “You feel a little better?”

“Y-Yeah..I’m f-feelin’ tons better...”

.........

Yuki

“Are you..serious?” Yuki gawked, expecting you to laugh at his confession. “Y-You really like me that way, too?”

“Of course! And I’ll say it again if I need to.” Grinning, you took his hands and swung them side-to-side a bit. “I truly do like you, Yuki Maeda. So what if you’re “average”? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Despite how much he wanted to believe your words, he was convinced that he wasn’t anyone special. His talent didn’t make him famous or rich or smart--who would wanna be with someone who was lacking in all three departments?

You could see his eyes starting to cloud over with doubt, but you weren’t gonna have any of that. Fortunately you had an idea that was either smart...or stupid. 

You didn’t care and just decided to kiss him right on the lips. He squeaked in surprise, immediately stiffening up, though it was just a peck and you quickly backed off.

Your face burned with embarrassment, but it got your message across..or so you hoped. “Now do you believe me?”

“I-I....I do..” Yuki stammered, his gaze travelling to your entwined hands. Though he shyly glanced back up at you. “C-Could you..uh..maybe do that again?”

........

Nikei

As you typed away on the computer, you could feel a lingering presence over your shoulder. But you didn’t mind it, knowing there was only one person who was allowed to barge into your office.

“Hey Nik-Nak.”

“Y-You’re seriously giving me a nickname now?” The journalist stammered, though he just sighed and looked at your computer screen. “Anyways..how’s the editing going?”

“So far so good. your dear Ultimate Editor is hard at work.” You kept tapping the keys. “But I noticed a lot more run-on sentences in this one. Looks like somebody’s had a little too much coffee today.”

“Oh please,” he huffed. “We both have very different definitions of “too much coffee”. And I think I know who stole the rest..”

“Sue me.” You joked, reaching up to pat his cheek, before you brought his head down slightly to kiss his other one. “Make some more if your heart desires.”

“..........”

“...Nikei?”

“...s-sure...imma go..uh....yeah. Bye.”

By the time you turned away from the computer, Nikei was already rushing out the door, clutching his hat to hide his face from view. But even in the dark you could tell he was blushing like mad.

How adorable.

........

Shinji

“COME ON, YUKI!! YOU GOTTA HAVE MORE FIYAAAAH THAN THAT!!!”

“He seems tired, Shinji. Cut him some slack.” You chuckled as you watched the two men train together. Poor Yuki was practically wheezing after the run, while Shinji just huffed and kept jogging around the park.

But eventually he made his way over to you and stopped short. “You should join us! Get your blood pumping!!”

“Do I have to?”

“Why not?” He grinned.

You really didn’t wanna run in hot weather like this, and the two seemed like they needed a break. 

So you came up with an idea--a sure-fire way to get him to listen to you. “Hey, Shin? I..gotta tell you something important.” You motioned for him to lean in closer, and he did so in worry, wondering what you had to say.

Though all he got was peck on the lips. It was the first kiss you’ve given him since you two starting going out, so it was quick but sweet. When you moved back you could see him staring at you, face growing beet-red.

“Now will you take a break...please?” You held his hands. 

For a while he seemed speechless--as though his brain short-circuited--before he finally found his voice. “W-W-Well jeez..why d-didn’t ya say so before?”

......

Yuri

“Oh, [y/n]~! I’ve figured out the perfect way to commemorate our first kiss!”

“You have? And what would that be?” You turned around to face the spaceman, noticing he had a box of Pocky. “O-Oh...the Pocky game?”

“What else could it be?” He laughed as he held out a stick between you two. “Since we’re both already familiar with it, why not get started right away~”

Seeing that there was no way out of this, you sighed and decided to agree to the game. You bit down one end of the stick while Yuri bit the other. 

Then you started munching away. Though at the last second, right before your noses could touch, you suddenly moved back, letting him have victory.

“Awh..there’s no need to be shy, my dearest.” He pouted, clearly disappointed. “I understand if you’re not ready yet but-”

However he was cut short when you pulled him by the tie, bringing his lips to yours. His eyes widened to the size of UFOS, though before he could properly react you broke the kiss, smiling as you munched the remaining Pocky you stole from him.

“I win~”

.......

Shobai

“You’re kidding right?”

“It’s like I said--nothing in life comes for free, sweetheart. If ya don’t already know that then..why are we even going out?"

“...we’ve been dating for-”

“You want a kiss? Better pay up.” As ridiculous as it seemed, Shobai looked dead serious about this “deal” you wanted to make with him. 

You didn’t think you’d have to actually pay to get a first kiss. But then again..this man made a living making bizarre deals, so you shouldn’t have been too surprised.

“Alright, if that’s what it takes.” You begrudgingly took out your wallet and opened it. “What do you want for-?”

However, you fell silent when you heard a snicker, and you looked to see his smug grin. But before you could question him, he suddenly leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, stunning you, though you tried to seize the moment and kiss him back.

He tasted like smoke, of course. It wasn’t the most pleasant, though your heart still fluttered even after you two broke the kiss. Only then did he notice your dumbfounded expression, and chuckled.

“You know, you can be real gullible sometimes...but that makes you kinda cute.”

.......

Mikado

“Hey um..Mik? Can I ask you something?”

“Oh anything, my dear moon~ Well...erm...there are some things I cannot disclose if you’re curious about Void-”

“A-Ah, nothing like that. I’m just wondering if...I were to kiss you....which side would you prefer?” You gestured to both sides of your face, looking at the wizard with an inquiring expression.

He hummed in thought. “You know..I’ve never had my first kiss before, so I’m not so sure myself. How about I let you surprise me?” The red eye on his mask winked, before he closed his real eye and sat still.

With a sigh, you decided to entertain him, approaching him. But when he opened his eye, you stopped short and huffed. “Hey, what happened to me “surprising” you?”

“Sorry, I was getting..impatient. Carry on.” Once more he closed it, soon feeling you cup the cheek of his maskless side. And he tensed up upon feeling you kiss the corner of his mouth. 

Redness dusted his entire face as he opened his eyes, seeing your smile.

“O-Oh...so that’s how it feels..”

.......

Hajime

“Hajime, it’ll only be for a second. I’ll be right back with medicine-”

“N-No..at least let me go with you..please..”

“You collapsed during training and you’ve been running a high fever ever since. You’re in no condition to walk right now.”

Despite your best efforts, Hajime continued to resist staying in bed. You didn’t think it would be this difficult to get him to stay put, but you knew why he was so upset.

He wasn’t scared of getting sick--he was scared of being abandoned while he was sick. It was a fear instilled into him thanks to his parents and doctors who just..gave up and left him to die, all alone.

That fear showed itself in full-force as he gripped your hand. “D-Don’t abandon me..” He sobbed weakly. “I can’t go through that again..I-I just can’t...”

Your heart ached when you heard those pleas. But as you wondered how you could calm him down...the first brilliant idea to pop in your mind was:

Kiss him.

And so you did, right on the lips, which you knew you’ll regret later. Though Hajime fell silent and looked at you with surprise. “...did you...?”

“Th-That’s..not how I meant our first kiss to go. But I promise you, Hajime..I’m not gonna abandon you.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Not now, not ever, okay? I will always come back for you.”

His cheeks were more flushed, but he nodded meekly and relaxed back on the bed as you quickly left to retrieve the medicine.

And you kept your promise.

[fanmoose12]

i've got this lowkey painful n angsty hc/prompt that i've always wanted to get off my chest lmao wherein hange hated her left eye injury with a burning passion. after what happened in shiganshina, whenever she'd stare too long at the mirror in her room, all she can think of is moblit being blown to pieces on the same day that she lost erwin </3 imagine if levi was tryna cheer her up and the moment "four-eyes" slips off his tongue, hange just,,, tries not to break down (and ultimately fails hehe i love pain) by saying stuff like "i'm more like three eyes now, shorty" and just avoids levi in general while her eye is healing just bc??? she doesn't want him to see her struggling with tasks like adjusting to reading or signing documents with one injured eye throbbing continuously??? and levi is genuinely confused bc he still thinks hange is beautiful (what a dork i love him) and he just wants to take care of her after what happened (why do i make my favorite characters suffer god help me) AAAAAA imagine levi helping her change her bandages and she refuses by saying "i don't want you to see it, the wound looks nasty" and levi grumpily says "i know you're already the commander but you're still four-eyes... my four-eyes" IM FOOKIN SOBBING NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME THIS SCENARIO DIDN'T HAPPEN OK

It hurts. It hurts not just physically, Hange knows how to deal with that kind kinds of pain, no, it hurts mentally too. 

Everytime she passes a mirror, every morning she prepares for a day, washing her face and combing through her hair, because she can't appear as a messy crazy scientist anymore, she sees it - a place where her eye once was. 

The visions of the last thing that eye saw haunt her and she can't make it stop. 

She isn't not the same without them. She feels tired without Moblit's constant care and she feels useless and weak without Erwin's guidance.

She misses them more than she thought was possible. She's no stranger to losses, they've been following her through her whole life, but this loss hits harder than the rest. 

She followed Erwin for five years, trusted and believed in him. Admired him. He was her commander and her friend, he made her believe that this fight was worth it.

And Moblit, sweet, gentle Moblit. Ever since they've met, he never left her side. No matter how crazy and unmanageable she became, no matter how reckless her plans were, he was always standing just behind her shoulder, offering his devotion and support. He was with her until the very end, he sacrificed his life for hers, Hange could never thank him enough for that. She never thanked him enough, and now Hange regrets it more than anything.

The image of his terrified face and a desperate cry is a center piece of every nightmare. It haunts her during daytime as well - every time she sees her reflection in the mirror, every time she has trouble focusing on a paper in front of her, every time she bumps into walls and trips over thresholds because her coordination is fucked up. 

She can't show her suffering to the others. She puts on a brave face and covers her eye with a patch, removing it out of sight but not out of her mind. She is commander now, the whole survey corps - as scarce as their numbers are - looks up to her. She has no time for grieving, she lost that privilege long time ago.

For the most part it works. No one seems to notice her forced smiles and fake laughter. Except for Levi. He suspects something, Hange's sure of it. He doesn't say anything, not yet, but he watches her. Hange feels the heavy weight of his gaze everytime they're in the same room.

Hange wants to snap, she wants to yell at him to go away, to leave her alone. She wants him to leave. And at the same time she's also afraid that he will. That he will realize the same thing Hange did. That she is useless, that she can't do that, can't lead all of them, that Erwin made a mistake in appointing her his successor.

In the end, it's Levi who snaps first. He enters her - his - office and locks the door. He approaches the desk she's sitting at and looms over her.

"Stop it." He tells her, his voice low and gravely.

"Stop what?" Hange asks. She stares unblinkingly at the paper in her hand. She avoids his gaze. She knows if she meets Levi's eyes, she won't be able to keep her composure anymore.

"Stop this." Levi snatches the paper out of her hands. "Stop ignoring me. Stop avoiding talking with me. Stop-" he falters after that, unsure.

"Go on," Hange urges him in a detached voice. "Tell me, Levi. What should I stop?"

Levi takes a shaky breath.

"Stop acting like everything is fine."

"And what do you want me to do?" Hange stands up and walks to the window, leaning against the frame. "Do you want me to go around, wailing? Crying for everything I've lost? You know I can't do that. Not anymore."

Levi lifts his arm and touches her shoulder. "Four-eyes..."

Hange recoils as though she was slapped.

"That nickname doesn't fit me anymore,” she forces through her teeth. “I'm more like three-eyes now."

She feels the tears forming in her remaining eye and Hange lowers her face and passes Levi by, heading towards the door. She can't do this right now, she can't show her tears. Even to him.

She takes two quick steps and then she is stopped, as Levi wraps his fingers around her wrist.

"You missed the doctor's appointment," Levi tells her, and the change of conversation is so sudden, it takes Hange a moment to catch up to what he's talking about. "Let me take a look at your eye."

"No," Hange says, her voice resolute. "I can take care of it myself, thanks."

"Hange-"

"I don't think you can take it, clean freak," she laughs, but the sound isn't merry or joyful. It's hollow and forced. "The wound isn't pretty."

"That's what that is about?" Levi asks. "You worry about your appearance? Since when?"

Hange doesn't answer, just turns away from him. Levi sighs.

"Your eye doesn't make you ugly, dipshit. It doesn't change in any way. For me, you're the same annoying four-eyes I've met all those years ago. You’ll always be."

Something breaks in Hange after hearing his words. Her shoulders starts to shake, as she tries to stop the tears from falling.

"Hange? Hange, what's wrong?" Levi approaches her, sounding almost desperate, almost like he's begging and that is enough to turn Hange around. He sees her tears and gasps. "Hange-"

"I'm fine," she says before Levi can say anything else or, god forbid, tries to apologize. "I'm fine, Levi."

He looks at her, his expression is open and sad. It breaks Hange's heart.

"Please, let me help you," he whispers and the tears start to fall down her cheeks. She stuggers at her feet, the pain and grief making her knees weak. Levi is there to catch her, though, just as he always is. He gathers her in his and presses her face to his chest.

"I know that it's hard, but you don't have to do this alone,” he whispers into her hair. “You have me and the brats. Just let us help, Hange. Just talk to me, please."

"It hurts, Levi," she sobs, staining his uniform with tears. The clean freak Levi doesn't protest, only pulls her closer. "It hurts so much."

"I know," he whispers softly. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?" she manages to ask.

"For not noticing it earlier. For letting you suffer alone."

"Levi-"

"But I'm here now, Hange. You have me. You'll always have me, four-eyes."

Hange nods and a smile curves at her lips. It's the first true one in a while. Her heart still aches, her soul crying for those who are lost. But with Levi by her side, maybe, she can learn how to cope with it. 

Maybe, she can become whole again.

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

"Please believe me" for 11/river with lots of angst but a happy ending pleaseeeee :( I miss them so much :(

someone reminded me of the fact that 11 didn't tell cl*ra that river was his wife, or that he was married at all and it made me angry

The first thing she did when she regained consciousness was slap him.

It was instantaneous; one sharp slap as her expression contorted with rage and heartache as their eyes met. Her breathing grew heavy as she struck him, and though he expected it he still cried out in pain and stumbled a few paces back.

"How dare you," she hissed, and when he looked back up at her again, his hand covering his reddening cheek, he saw that she was quivering and her eyes were filled with tears. "How dare you, Doctor."

"River," he gasped, as she advanced on him dangerously again, getting out of the bed and striding calmly towards him. "River, I-"

"How could you trap me in that hell," she started, her voice quiet with fury, "and never return? No visits, no messages - I was in that computer for over a thousand years and you couldn't take a second away from your joyrides to even check if I was still there."

He gulped as she glared at him through her tears, still wearing that ridiculous garb she wore in Trenzalore, her hair like a majestic lion's mane against the bright lights of the medbay.

"I thought you would come back," she said, shutting her eyes. She seemed angry - but not at him this time. At herself. "I thought you would have the decency to just erase me if you couldn't find a way to save me. But you just went off gallivanting with your women. Did you even spare a thought for me at all? Or was I really just Professor Song to you?"

"Don't be - I - River - of course -" the Doctor stammered, but as she watched him, his cheek bright red from the force of her slap, she seemed to lose all the fight in her.

She turned back to the bed and leant on it, her shoulders hunched as she cried.

"I thought you would come back," she repeated, but instead of the fury with which she spat the words out before, now it was with a choked sob as tears poured out of her. "I waited for you. Every day I waited for you, until I realised that you wouldn't come. I was on my own. And then, after Trenzalore, it dawned on me - I was always on my own."

She turned and perched on the edge of the bed, looking at her husband with gaunt eyes and a wry smile.

"You never intended to save me, did you, my love?" she asked softly. "You trapped me there when we met but by the time we married you must have realised just how much I would have hated being in that data core - and yet you never had the decency to even see me there."

The Doctor shut his eyes and looked down. He didn't know what to say - she was right, about all of it. She didn't deserve him; she deserved a husband who loved her selflessly and he - he was the most selfish man in the universe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly, but it didn't sound enough.

"Did you even grieve for me?" she asked him, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. "Or did you find some other young, pretty thing to impress? What was her name - Clara, was it? I hope you treated her well, my love." she laughed harshly. " Better than you treated me, anyway."

"Of course I grieved for you," the Doctor answered softly, his eyes still shut tight. He couldn't look at her. "I never stopped grieving for you."

But she shook her head. "You didn't even tell anyone about me. Like I never existed at all." she pointed out to him. "Clara didn't even know you were married - what did you tell her I was?"

He didn't answer for a moment. And then he mumbled, "An ex."

She nodded once. "Is that what you want me to be? An ex? Was that what it took for her to fuck you?"

The Doctor's eyes widened. "No, River -"

"I'm leaving," she interrupted. "If you want me to be an ex, then I'll be one. I've spent too much of my life trying to be someone you can love, Doctor. I'm not about to squander my second chance at living on someone who never wanted me in their life."

"Stop," he whispered.

"Why?" she challenged, eyes blazing. "You know it's true. I gave everything up for you. I gave my lives to you - every single time, I was there for you. And you couldn't even-" she closed her eyes and swallowed as more tears escaped. "You couldn't even get over yourself to visit me. Just admit that it's over, Doctor. Because I am so tired of hurting over this - over you."

"It's not over," he said softly, staggering towards her. His eyes were blinded with tears as he dropped to his knees and held her hands. "It's not over, River. You're right - you deserve better than me. You've given me so much that I don't deserve - and I couldn't - I'm not -" more tears escaped and he took in a shaky breath as he continued. "You asked if I grieved for you. I couldn't - after our last night, I didn't leave the Tardis for over a century. I held your pillow to sleep because it smelled like you. I drove myself crazy because I missed you so much it felt like my hearts were being ripped apart."

He looked up at her and kissed the back of her hands. She was watching him and crying silently, red rimmed eyes cautious but hopeful. But he could still see how betrayed and heartbroken she felt, and he wished that he was a better man.

"I'm sorry." he repeated again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You deserve a billion apologies after what I've done to you and it still wouldn't be enough." He pressed another shaky kiss to her skin and she felt his lips quivering against her. "When I found out you escaped, I - I couldn't get there fast enough. I was so - so unbearably happy, River. Happier than I'd ever been. It was like my hearts stopped ripping themselves apart."

He sighed, heavy and remorseful, as he looked down and shook his head. "But I don't deserve you. You're right, River. I didn't tell anyone about you. But only because - because every time I thought about you, all the pain would come flooding back. It reminded me that I could never be with you again. So I didn't tell anyone - it wasn't because - I didn't do it so I could -"

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice gentler than it had been since she woke up. "She liked you, you know. I could see it. And my love, you are not as innocent as you like to pretend. If she's who you're with now and I've showed up and complicated things, just tell me."

His head shot up and he held tightly onto her hands as he answered with a firm, "No. It's not like that, River. I - not since - I couldn't. Please believe me. Please, River."

"But she-" River frowned. "So you didn't fuck her?"

The Doctor flinched at her curse, but shook his head. "There was never any chance of it."

River looked doubtful but didn't say anything. The Doctor sighed and stood, sitting next to her. She didn't move away but she didn't turn towards him either.

"I didn't forget you. You were everywhere, River. I could hear your voice in my head, telling me that I left the brakes on or scolding me for being so slow." he said. She remained motionless, looking down at her lap. "I know I haven't given you any reason to believe me, but I do love you, River. You're my wife. And I - I'm so happy to see you. I'm so happy that you're alive and breathing and - and free. And if you want to remain free, I won't stop you."

At that, she turned to look at him, her eyes slightly widened in shock. He continued, smiling reassuringly at her.

"You choose what you want, dear. I won't stop you. I can be in your life as your husband, or a friend, or," he paused, as though even thinking the words were hard. "Or I can not be in your life at all. I won't blame you if you choose that. But I wouldn't be a selfish old man if I didn't at least try to convince you to stay."

"Doctor," she whispered, but she didn't seem to know what to say.

"I will be better," he whispered, fresh tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at her. His expression was one of hopeful desperation - she recognised it from when they fought together and were on the brink of losing. She never realised she was something he wanted to fight for. "If it's for you, I know I can be better. Please let me try. You don't owe me anything - God knows I don't deserve this at all - but I swear, River, I'll do everything I can for you."

He reached out to touch her cheek lightly, wiping her tears away. "I've missed you so much. I love you so, so much, River."

He leaned towards her but before he could blink she threw herself into him, sobbing into his chest as she clutched tightly at him. His arms wound themselves around her automatically and he found himself holding her, stroking her hair and shushing her.

"Whatever you choose, dear," he whispered soothingly to her, rubbing her back as she shook in his embrace. "Just remember that I love you. Please, don't forget that."

She cried and cried and cried until she couldn't anymore, until tears refused to fill her eyes again. She felt so conflicted but she knew herself - she knew that there was never any choice to begin with. It was only ever him, the Doctor. Her stupid husband.

'You don't have to choose now," he told her softly, as she stopped shaking and simply rested her head against the wet spot on his chest where she cried. "Think about it for a while."

"I don't have to. I know what to choose," she mumbled against his chest. She pushed herself up and looked into his eyes, her hand reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "Just please, don't make me regret it."

His eyes burned with more tears at the realisation that she was choosing him. He sniffed and dropped his forehead onto hers, hugging her tightly to him.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered again. "River, my wife, my partner - my equal. How could I ever fall in love with anyone after spending centuries loving you?"

She smiled against him. "Don't be an idiot, sweetie."

Their lips met for the first time in centuries.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

I know you've all been waiting for the rest of the terminal illness ask. Well, all your responses were heard! I'm back to pain your heart once again with M, Ra, S and F!

M: "What...do you...mean...?" M looks confused as they stare at the doctor, "A...day..."

M says nothing as the doctor solemnly departs, leaving the two of you alone. They stare down at you, and you can see in their eyes that they understand your condition. Still, their voice breaks as they force the question.

"You'll...get better...right...?" M searches your eyes, but only draws the same conclusion. Still, they push, "Right...?"

The denial continues throughout the night and into the morning. You're surprised by M's tenacity to stay awake.

"I'm not...tired..." they say, although the darkened circles that have begun forming under their bloodshot eyes state otherwise.

As your vision begins blearing, you realize your time is almost drawing to an end. The denial that M has been holding onto seems to spill into acceptance as they grip your hand. You hear a light tune; the sound of a humming lullaby as your consciousness fades.

As M reaches the end of their departing song, their voice is shaky and barely audible beneath the choking sobs. Their hand grips yours tighter, and it's not until they feel the warmth leave your hands do they lose the hope you'll reassure them with a similar grip.

Ra: The blood drips lightly off Raven's fingertips as they stare down at the hospital staff. Their eyes have darkened to a pitch black pigment, devoid and empty.

"Lies..." their voice is soft, but you can hear the fear; the pain, "You're all liars...but that's alright..." Raven crouches down on their haunches, grabbing at the head of one of the bodies and turning it towards them, "I did the right thing...Now you'll never lie again...I did the right thing..."

Raven stays with you through the night and into the day. Their eyes stare only at you, as if burning the image of you into their memory. As you feel your consciousness begin to drift away, Raven grips you in a desperate attempt to pull you back.

"They lied...They lied...!" Raven reassures themselves as they watch the sentience fade from your eyes.

"They lied...They...They..." Raven bites into their  arm hard enough to break the skin as they attempt to dampen the bloodcurling scream they emit. They crumple to the red-stained tile, where they stay for what seems like hours.

After the grief has passed and clarity returns, Raven picks up a sleek knife. Seeing their sharpened smile on the reflective surface of the blade, they turn the edge to their throat, a gleeful laugh emanating from them.

"You'll never escape me that easily!"

S: They close their eyes as they process the information. "Its...terminal, huh Doc?"

The doctor nods his head gloomily. S sighs and waves him off. They turn to you with a sad smile. "Ya still with me? Good. Good..." they pull a small piece of paper out of their hand and stick it into yours, closing your hand on it. "No peekin', now. It pays to be patient, ya know?" They give a soft laugh.

S spents the night and into the day at your side, staring at you with a solemn smile and occasionally sharing stories about their home.

"But, ya know, us desert dwellers got a sayin'. Someone's last thoughts should be of home." They give you a reassuring squeeze of your hand as your vision begins blearing, "Tell me about it."

S listens intently as you begin speaking of the place you were raised, up until you no longer are able to utilize your voice. They watch as the story you begun reaches its end. They feel your grip on their hand weaken, and see the small piece of paper fall of your palm. Only a single word is written on it: 'Farewell'.

The paper is stained by a teardrop as S takes it into his palm, "I've never...been good at expressin' myself...right..." S attempts to regain their composure, only to lose it completely when they start speaking out to you.

"I'm sorry...that I caused ya so much trouble..." they speak through a hand that contains their sobbing, and wipe their eyes with the other, "I'll raise enough hell down here for the both of us, dont ya worry." They say with slight humor.

"Farewell. Partner."

F: "You consider yourself Frenza's finest?" F practically spits into the faces of several doctors lining your bed, their every work laced with venom, "Remove yourselves at once."

As the doctors leave your room, F collapses onto the chair on your bedside, exhausted. Their skin is much paler than you remember, and their eyes have taken on a sunken quality. The royal runs their hands through their hair, unkempt and frayed.

"Is this Fern's work? Is it my fault? Was I too negligent...?" Their hands close on strands of dull green hair, a seething regret seeping into their bones, "Curse this hair...This birthright of my strife...!"

As their hands release their grip, F takes collective, calming breaths. Composed, they straighten up and take to looking after you with a hint of a smile on their face.

"Just this once, I will take to servicing you. This is not up for debate; dont talk back."

F spends the rest of the night and into the day comforting and nursing you, occasionally providing some small musings.

"Do you know of the emerald rose? It is a rare flower that grows only in Frenza, and blooms only once. Those who find the flower in full bloom are said to find everlasting happiness."

As you listen to their idle chatter, you feel your consciousness begin to slip. F sees this too, and their talking hesitates.

"...It is time, is it?" F's voice is soft as they look down on you. They breath into their hand, and a shimmering rose grows, its petals a luminescent green. They carefully place the flower to your chest, moving your hand to keep it in place.

"A funeral is never a farewell. It is a promise. It is not a time of grieving, but a moment of celebration. This is what I was taught...but..." F's emerald eyes shift softly with the presence of pooling water, "...The pain is ever present."

F watches as the sentience slowly leaves your eyes. It takes them a moment to compose themselves into a workable state, but they are quicker than most to recover from the loss. Another emerald rose grows from the palm of their hand, which they let drop to the floor.

"I have no need for this anymore..." their tone soft and content, "My chance of happiness is fleeting. This is my promise to you..."

Vines begin creeping up the walls of your hospital room, and fauna sprouts through the cracks of the tile as a serpentine smile matches the spark of vengeance that flashes in their eyes.

"I will never forget this pain."

I hope you've enjoyed! :)

[windless-hurricane]

She's the One

A Billy Hargrove x Reader x Steve Harrington Fanfic

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SUMMARY: You're found in Hawkins Lab the night of the demodogs raid by none other than the Chief of Police, Jim Hopper. Although you don't look like much, there's more to you than meets the eye.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Enjoy and more will be revealed in the next chapter!

WARNINGS: Violence and scenes involving blood and/or death.

WORD COUNT: 2k

NEXT CHAPTER

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“One!”

“Go! Get out of here!”

“You’re going to regret doing that.”

“Eat me.”

“What’re you going to do? Kill me?”

“Of course not. We can't let our best experiment get away. We need you.”

“You have no one left!”

“We have you and Eleven and if we lose Eleven, then we’ll always have you. As long as we have you, we’ll always be able to start again.”

“You can’t do this!”

“We already have.”

“Brenner. Brenner!”

“Close the chamber. Have a nice sleep, One.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkness. That’s what the next five years of your life consisted of. Alone, unable to breathe, unable to see your friends, unable to live. You’ve felt as if you were asleep, nearly dead, but not quite. It wasn’t until about a year ago that the constant silence you were surrounded by was interrupted by voices - voices that eventually reminded you that you were still alive.

I don't know where my boy is.

I don’t care if anyone believes me. I am not gonna stop looking for him until I find him and bring him home!

She threw you in the air with her mind!

She’s our friend and she’s crazy!

If we’re both going crazy, then we’ll go crazy together, right?

What the hell is this? - We have no idea. It was here when we got here, but if I’m going to take a guess… It’s one of the kids that were experimented on. - And you’re just going to keep them in there? - We don’t know what they’re capable of; but if they were locked up, it must’ve been done for a reason.

I don’t want you to get hurt at all. And I don’t wanna lose you.

They cannot save you, Jane. - No, but I can save them.

And for the first time in a long time, you woke up.

You knew that voice. Even if it was more grown than the last time you heard it. It was her. It was Eleven and she was closer than you ever felt her before. She might not have been there in the lab with you, but the conviction in her voice told you that she was coming - coming to save everyone. But from what?

The rumbling that you felt next answered your question. It was whatever was causing that. It was whatever was causing everyone from the outside to scream. It was… a monster. You had to get out of there. You had to help them, because that’s what she was coming to do. This was your chance - your chance to get her back.

You raised your hand despite the heaviness of the water and pushed it against the door.

You had to open the door. You had to focus, even if it was unbearably loud. Open the door, you told yourself. Open it. You know you can.

You kept going and going until your head ached, but it was fruitless. It wasn’t working. It had been too long since you’ve been in there. Too long since you’ve used your powers. You were too weak.

“What’re you doing,” a frantic voice yelled and it was enough to push you back into reality.

“We have to get them out of here,” another voice explained and you recognized it almost immediately. It was gruff and stern. It had to be that sheriff.

“Are you insane?”

“Listen, if you want to get out of here alive, whoever is in here is our best bet. Got it?”

“There’s no way to open it.”

“Oh, no way to open it…” Then, a loud crash took you aback and it kept repeating over and over again. He was hitting the lock and it was actually...breaking. It definitely wasn’t the most technical way to do it, but it was working nevertheless. Just a few more hits and he’ll do it. He’ll break the lock and after three more hits, that’s exactly what he did.

The door flew open and the water that had always engulfed you poured out. It left you feeling cold and wet, but you didn’t care. As long as you could feel. The darkness that you always hated was quickly replaced by blinding light and it burned your eyes, but you didn’t care about that either. As long as you could see. For years, this was all you wanted and you finally got it. Now, all you had to do was save yourself from falling.

It was a lot harder than you expected it to be. Mostly because your entire body felt like jelly, but you were still able to do it. You placed an arm in front of yourself and your hand and knee took most of the impact as you landed in a crouching position. Hopper and the doctor watched you intently as you struggled to catch your breath. They went to move, but froze once they heard growling echoing behind them. They both turned in unison and fear washed over their faces as they gazed at the creature in front of them. You were only able to see it too once your eyes adjusted to the light.

It was small, almost the size of a dog, but an ugly dog. It was green and slimy all over, and it’s head almost looked like a flower bud. So, these were the monsters you had to worry about.

You glared at it as its mouth bloomed open, revealing dozens of rows of sharp teeth. The doctor cowered at the sight while Hopper readied himself. It roared loudly and started to charge the three of you before you raised your hand in the air. Push it back.

You thought about the years you spent in that chamber and the person who locked you in it. You thought about it until the veins along your temple burned in anger. You thought about it until you were able to send the creature flying through the air and into the wall behind it, breaking its neck in process.

Hopper looked back at you in shock as you pulled the oxygen mask off your face and wiped your bloody nose. If that didn’t tell him who you were, then the tattoo on your wrist reading “001” did. It was in that moment that you got pulled into this silly disaster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All of you, except two, were able to escape the lab. That’s not what you wanted, but it’s what ended up happening.

The doctor chose to stay behind, while you weren’t fast enough to save a man named Bob from dying. You didn’t even realize he had been attacked until you heard a woman screaming. You managed to push the creature off him, but more followed suit shortly after and you were still too weak to handle that many. So, Hopper had no choice but to drag you and the woman named Joyce away as a honking car pulled up to the curb.

“Come on! Get in,” a voice yelled. It was Jonathan, the son of Joyce.

You all squeezed yourself into the car and once the doors shut, Jonathan sped away like a madman. It made you fall back into your seat harshly and you did your best to cling onto the edge of the seat. It must’ve been odd because almost everyone in the car looked at you.

You couldn’t help but gulp nervously as you glanced back at everyone. You weren’t sure how to react to the unwanted attention, but luckily Jonathan took it upon himself to make it less awkward.

“Who’s she,” he asked. His voice was curious and breathy. You felt compelled to answer, but you realized you couldn’t even get a word out. Your throat was so dry and you couldn’t find your voice. It had been so long since you used it that you felt like dust was going to come out of your mouth rather than actual words.

Noticing your discomfort, Hopper decided to answer for you.

“I’ll explain later.” That was all he said before moving his gaze to the front again.

No one decided to push the matter further and you were internally grateful for that. However, you could still feel a pair of eyes on you and they belonged to the boy sitting right next to you - Mike. You didn’t know it, but he already saw the tattoo on your wrist and was questioning what you were truly capable of.

A few moments later, the car came to a screeching halt and you dug your nails into the leather of the seat to keep yourself from falling forward. Hopper moved to get out of the car and you immediately panicked. You leaned forward quickly and gripped his shoulder like your life depended on it. You hadn’t known him for long, but he was the one who rescued you and you didn’t feel comfortable with anyone but him.

He looked back at you in surprise and although you couldn’t speak, he read your eyes like you did.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled before glancing at Jonathan. "Your house." Jonathan quickly nodded and Hopper looked back at you again, “Come on.”

You pushed yourself out of the car and followed him into his own. Once you got settled in and put your seatbelt on to Hopper’s request, he took off. Along the way, he picked up a few more kids, each pausing to look at you as they went into the backseat. There was a boy with curly hair, another boy wearing a bandana, and a girl with long red hair. However, the last boy to enter truly caught your attention. He was older than the other kids, about your age. He was tall, had long flowy hair, and deep brown eyes. To say he was beautiful was an understatement. You subconsciously continued to stare at him until he locked eyes with you through the rearview mirror. You tore your gaze away, but knew that his was still on you along with the other kids. It continued to stay that way even after you got to the Byers house.

You scarfed down a sandwich Hopper had made for you and paid them no mind as you washed it down with water. You could’ve gone for another. Hell, even 10 more, but this wasn’t the time and place. Right now, everyone was eager for answers. Everyone, except a sleeping Will and grieving Joyce.

You looked up at everyone as they surrounded you around the table and did your best to recollect their names. The boy with the curly hair was Dustin. The one with the bandana was Lucas. The redhead was Max. Mike stood beside her. Then for the teenagers, Nancy was the only girl. Beside her was Jonathan and beside him was...Steve. You let your gaze linger on him for a bit until you heard the chair across from you screech against the floor. It was Hopper taking a seat.

You watched him carefully as he interlocked his hands under his chin and tried to find the right words to say.

“Good,” he asked quietly and it took you a moment to realize that he was talking about the sandwich. So, you simply nodded as you waited for him to continue.

He started to speak before being interrupted by a younger voice.

“So, you're like Eleven?” You looked to Dustin in surprise, but everyone else wasn’t impressed. They started to chastise him for being so blunt.

“We had a plan, Dustin,” Mike explained frustratedly.

“I couldn’t help it! The anticipation was killing me!” He tried to defend.

“We were trying not to freak her out,” Lucas added.

“Well seems like you already succeeded in that, doofuses,” Max insulted.

“Everyone be quiet,” Hopper ordered loudly.

Silence immediately filled the room as Hopper huffed in annoyance.

“The plan was...to handle this nice and...slowly, so we don’t overwhelm our new guest. Wasn’t that right?”

“Well-”

“Wasn’t that right?”

"Yes,” the kids answered in unison, looking down to their feet.

“But we don’t necessarily have the time,” Nancy said lowly.

“I know,” Hopper agreed. “But it’s possible that she doesn’t even know who Eleven is.”

“I know...who Eleven is,” you revealed softly and everyone’s eyes instantly widened. “I know her and...I’m like her.” You turned your wrist over and ran your thumb over your tattoo.

“I’m One. I’m number One.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

END OF CHAPTER. THANK YOU!

[trashfor-imagines]

The Music Series: Haikyū!! Edition! | 4

TURN OUT THE LIGHTS ft. Kuroo x Reader

Summary: Kuroo found the love of his life, but now he has to learn to live on. Warning: Deals with death & angst. I think this story’s a sad time. P.S. I Love You & After Life inspired story telling elements.

-

“Anata-”

With quick reflexes, Kuroo shut his laptop, gripping onto the thin metal tightly.

“I... I need to do this in my own time,” he spoke, avoiding the gazes of his friends. “Alone. Another day.”

Kenma and Bokuto glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Bokuto rested a hand on his shoulder. “Kuroo, her email said to watch it with us.”

“She always knew what she was doing. I don’t think she’d suddenly be wrong now.” Kenma reached for the laptop, prying it from his stiff grip. He took the laptop and turned on the television, casting to the larger screen in Kuroo’s living room.

Bokuto threw an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders in comfort, but also in part to make sure he stayed in place. With a nod of affirmation, Kenma hit play and rejoined on the couch, starting from the beginning again. There was a close up of the lower half of your face as the video began. Sitting back, you smiled gently at the camera, looking a bit nervous. You were beautiful, wearing a white dress, sitting by the window with sun beams casting a golden glow around you. You looked so soft. Unreal.

“Anata,” you spoke sweetly, voice filled with love. You paused for a few beats, sitting silently. “Anata, I love you. When you see this, so much will have already happened. You see, tomorrow, I have to share with you some news that will make you sad. Tomorrow will be the day I tell you I’m sick. We’ve both known I’ve been sick for a while. When I tell you what it is, you won’t take it well. I want to say I’m sorry for ruining our plans.”

Leaning forward, you pressed the stop button and the video cut to the same setting, but now you were wearing a pale blue dress.

“You’re resting right now, so this was the best time to record myself. I told you today. We went to the doctor to discuss the results and our options, but no matter what path we choose, the end will be the same. I can feel it, but I can’t tell you now; you won’t listen. You have so much hope. For you, I’ll agree to do all of these things because I don’t want you to feel you didn’t do everything you could to save me. If you’re watching this, I want you to know you did everything there was. You did so well. Kenma? Bokuto? My Tetsurou will really need you now. I need you make sure he isn’t beating himself up. Sometimes things are just out of our hands. You can’t fix things that aren’t meant to be fixed.

“Tetsurou? Make sure you get out of bed and wear new clothes during the day. Even if you don’t leave the house; don’t skip bathing either. You have to take care of yourself. You used to say something in high school. ‘We're like the blood in our veins. We must flow without stopping.’ So that’s my advice for you. Don’t stop. You must continue.” You stopped speaking for a moment, simply smiling at the camera. There was a rustling in the background out of view - it must have been himself. Looking down at your hands, you slowly spun your wedding ring around your finger, before looking up again. “I love you.”

The video stopped. The three men sat together silently, not knowing what to say. With a shuddering breath, Kuroo stood and went into the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself. Bokuto and Kenma exchanged nervous glances. The two of them cleaned around your old apartment. Proof of your life and existence filled every room. Bokuto wondered how much longer his friend could stand being surrounded by your presence; even he was beginning to feel suffocated from seeing your smile in every photograph. He kept to himself how he could still smell your perfume on your coat that still hung by the door when he entered. He wondered how long it would be before Kuroo tried packing you away only to regret it. Bokuto and Kenma locked the apartment door before heading down and outside.

At the front of the building, Kenma opened his email, catching Bokuto’s attention. “In two weeks he’ll get another email from her. She gave me instructions to find Yaku and wants us there again. I’ll send you details.”

Bokuto furrowed his brows in concern. “But isn’t that...”

Kenma nodded in affirmation. “See ya.”

“Anata, it’s been a month. In a few days you’ll need to intern me. Don’t do it if you’re not ready. It’s okay, I won’t be mad. I’ve reached out to my mother, your parents, and Kenma. They will take care of it for you. But, if you do decide to come, I’d like you to tell me about the walk there, what you saw, the scents you smelled, any people you meet.” You were silent, a sad smile gracing your features. “Remember in high school, you came with me to visit my father’s grave? I stepped away to throw away the old incense. When I came back you didn’t notice me and I overheard you talking. That’s when I knew you’d be the love of my life.” At the cemetery that day, he told your father that he wanted to marry you one day and promised to take care of you in his stead so he could rest easy now. There was a rustle in the background and you looked away. A male figure from hip down appeared in frame and you smiled brightly up at him. Large hands rested at the back of your head and pulled you forward so that your head was pressed against his abdomen and your arms wrapped around his thighs, hugging him.

“I’m off. I’ll meet you at your appointment.” It was Kuroo’s voice, confirmed when he backed away and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, Tetsurou.”

The video ended and Kuroo seemed lifeless to his friends. You’d been filming right in front of him and he never noticed at the time. Tears stung behind his eyes. He leaned forward, hands folded together tightly with elbows resting on his knees. He rested his forehead against his clasped hands and he was still for a moment before his shoulders began to shake. Bokuto glanced at Kenma who was concentrated on Yaku. Bokuto recalled the former Nekoma libero as being short-tempered and serious, but he was honest and straightforward.

“So are you going or not?” Yaku asked plainly, addressing the question everyone in the room was wondering.

“Hey come on! Can’t you ask a bit nicer?” Bokuto yelled. “Have some tact!”

Yaku felt his temper flair and out of respect did his best not to unleash hell on the professional volleyball player in a grieving man’s living room, but before he could open his mouth, Kenma had Bokuto by the ear and was dragging him outside of the apartment.

“Kenma, what’s the deal?” Bokuto pouted, rubbing his ear until the pain subsided.

“(Y/N) asked for Yaku to be here and it wasn’t easy to get him to come either. Trust (Y/N),” he spoke plainly, taking a seat in the hallway and pulling out a pocket game system. “It might be a while.”

Thirty minutes, forty-five, and soon two hours had passed. Kenma was still concentrated on his game and Bokuto had long fallen asleep in the hallway when the door to the apartment opened and Yaku exited, a neutral expression on his face. He closed the door behind him and let out a breath he’d been holding. Kenma paused his game and looked up at his old teammate, silently waiting for him to speak first.

There was a faint growl before he spoke, “How (Y/N) ever ended up with that guy is beyond me.”

“You introduced them.”

Yaku huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t remind me, Kenma. I’ll take it from here. We’ve got three days until the internment right?”

Kenma shook Bokuto awake. “Four days. We’re meeting at her mother’s home to walk together. Kuroo’s family grave isn’t far from there.”

“That idiot should be doing it himself.”

Yaku waited until the night before the internment before he made his move. He managed to get Kuroo out of the house. There wasn’t any pressure. In fact, he never brought (Y/N) up once. Yaku had taken Kuroo out for barbeque and beers and the widower allowed himself to indulge in alcohol, drowning his sorrow. His old teammate was patient, waiting for the moment Kuroo would speak his heart. It never came and soon Yaku had to take the inebriated man home. That was when he decided to take Kuroo the long way back to the apartment building, where they would have to pass by the cemetery.

Kuroo stood at the steps that led up to the graveyard. The torii gate large and overwhelming. Yaku watched in silence as Kuroo’s legs moved forward, taking him up the stairs. With a sigh, he leaned against the street light as he waited. The only light through the graveyard was from the glow of the city buildings, but Kuroo had visited this place before in his youth. His legs moved with memory and he found himself standing in front of the family grave.

Time passed quickly, what felt like five minutes had been an hour and Yaku was worried. He hated having to track down a man in a graveyard so late, but it had to be done. Thirty minutes had passed when he finally came across his old teammate.

He was praying aloud, eyes shut tight with tears running down his cheeks as he knelt on the ground before the family grave.

“Please take care of my wife until it’s my time.”

Quietly, Yaku headed back to the foot of the stairs to wait on the street again. It was probably best if Kuroo had no idea he’d witnessed that moment. Pulling out his phone, he sent a text, finishing in time to see Kuroo descend the staircase.

The next day, Kuroo was at your mother’s house early, dressed in black. She had been surprised, but said nothing to Kuroo about his absence. If there was anything she knew about the man, it was that he loved you beyond compare and that he was broken. You had spoken to your mother before your death, asking her to forgive Kuroo for how he would be when you were gone. The fact that you knew him so well and described his behavior to the T, told her enough about the love you shared.

Kuroo and your mother went to your altar and burned incense, setting down small bowls of food in front of your urn. Your mother sat at the dinner table and ate silently, watching as Kuroo ate his meal beside you. She watched as he seemed to whisper secrets to you as though you could still hear him.

When Kuroo’s parents arrived, he carefully wrapped his arms around your urn tightly. Your mother had incense and other items for burning, his mother had your favorite flowers, and his father had a bag of items for cleaning the family grave. Your parents walked quietly, listening as Kuroo whispered the things he saw.

At the cemetery, they met with the priest. Kuroo pressed a kiss to your urn before handing you over. Once the ritual was performed and your ashes were put away, the four of them spent the rest of the morning cleaning and paying their respects. Your mother and his parents bid their farewells, leaving Kuroo behind to finish up. He stayed for hours, leaving briefly to buy some snacks and returning to eat at the grave; he set aside your favorite onigiri for you. It wasn’t until he began falling asleep did he consider heading home.

Kenma was there, waiting outside of the apartment building. The professional gamer reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of salt packets, opening them and sprinkling one on the ground for Kuroo to walk on and throwing the salt from the other packet onto him. It was something Kenma remembered his mother doing when his grandmother passed, to keep evil spirits away. The two men stared at each other briefly before Kuroo headed in, Kenma right behind.

The two of them sat on the couch, a few beats of silence passing before Kuroo turned to his friend. “How’d you know?”

“Give the people in your life some credit,” he replied, turning on the television and casting the video onto the screen. “This one’s just for you, so I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that, he handed over his phone and left the room.

Hesitantly, he toyed with Kenma’s phone, feeling the weight of it in his hand. Biting his lip, he tapped the triangle to play the video.

The setting was different, but he knew it. He’d recognize that bright white hospital room from anywhere, a vase of pink peonies - fresh cut - sat beside you. You were in the bed wearing a white gown with a tiny blue triangle pattern. Your skin was so pale, but it was the IV you were hooked to that gave away that this was filmed near the end of your hospital stay.

“Tetsurou, I’m so proud of you. I know that it was hard, and you don’t realize it now, but you took a step forward toward a new life. This isn’t a bad thing or something to feel shameful of. It makes me happy to know you did it. Because of that, these are my last words to you, so please take them to heart. Every moment precious to me has something to do with you. I’m happy with the life I’ve lived. You’ve filled my life with so much joy and I’m thankful for all of the time we’ve had together. But you must allow yourself to fall in love again. Don’t avoid it because of me. I can’t do anything for you where I am. Find someone to give you the love you need. Be grateful that people care about you. Please take care of yourself. Live well and find happiness in things great and small, especially the small. You have to do this so that I can rest easy until we meet again.” There was a strength behind your smile and despite your sickly complexion, he knew your image was still the most beautiful he’d ever see in his lifetime. 

”You’re the greatest love of my life.”

-

tag list: @hihiq​

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Hair (fanfic)

Look at me go, two fanfics in two days. It’s almost like I should be studying or something but would rather write sad fanfiction instead of dealing with organic chemistry. 

Anyway, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a text-post from @lesbian-deetz  about blonde Lydia and how she ended up with black hair and a tiktok by @vrronicasawyer-cosplay 

 I took an already sad text post and made it ten times sadder!

Tw: Mourning, death

__________________________________________________________

Everyone always said Lydia had the most beautiful blonde hair. When she was first born everyone was so shocked to see this tiny baby girl with light blonde hair when both her mother and father had dark hair, it wasn’t until they remembered Charles’ red-headed father that it all made sense that Lydia was blonde. From the day she was born, nobody could deny that Lydia was Charles’ daughter. Even as a baby she looked exactly like him from her eye color, the shape of her nose, and her face in general. Emily tried not to be envious, though she did land in a few remarks about how unfair it was that she grew Lydia inside of her for nine months and she looked exactly like her father, who’s job in making the baby ended nine months and fifteen minutes ago. Little did Emily know that even though she looked like Charles, Lydia would undeniably be considered Emily’s little clone. 

As a toddler, she had little curls that killed people when she gave a rosy-cheeked and buck-toothed smile. Her mother would love to braid flowers in Lydia’s hair and pretend they were fairies in the garden. Her father used to gush about how he loved the light, almost white colored hair that contrasted Lydia’s dark brown eyes. As she got older Lydia always just kept her hair long. She liked the way that it blew all crazy when she was running on the playground, and the time spent every morning with her mother helping her fix her hair for the day. She begged her mother to let her get bangs when she was around ten years old, and Emily begrudgingly agreed only because she also had bangs as a child and hoped that letting Lydia get them done once would get it out of her system. Lydia ADORED her new hair cut, and even Emily thought the look suited her. Mostly she was just thrilled her daughter was happy and expressing herself.

Lydia never really thought much about having blonde hair, she just thought it was funny when people would joke about how her family must have brought home the wrong baby because her hair was so light compared to hers. Her father kept his brown hair in a professional style like all the other father’s Lydia saw of her classmates, she teased him for being boring. Emily though, she had shorter hair from as early as Lydia could remember. It was dark brown, nearly black hair that Emily kept cut just above her chin in a messy bob. At nights Emily and Lydia would flip through old photo albums and Emily would groan when photos of her with long hair appeared. 

“My parents always wanted me to keep it long, said it was ‘proper of a young lady’ ” Emily mocked in a stuffy voice, “As soon as I turned sixteen, I went to the hairdresser and told them to chop it off! My mother was less than thrilled when I came home missing ten inches of hair.”

“Would you be mad if I cut my hair like that?” a ten-year-old Lydia asked

Emily shook her head, “Of course I wouldn’t be. You can do whatever you want with your hair. I just like mine this way, I’ve kept it this short ever since I was sixteen years old. I think it’s very me, don’t you?”

Lydia nodded, “I like my hair like this. I think I would keep it that way, besides daddy really loves my hair long.”

“I think you’d look cute with short hair, but if this is how you like it you should keep it that way.”

Lydia thought about it for a second, “Maybe when I’m older...I’ll test out some new looks.”

“Didn’t you just test out these bangs little lady?”

Lydia was twelve years old when Emily first got sick. The doctors seemed hopeful in the beginning, said that her chance of beating it was sixty percent, but as time went on Emily got worse and worse. Emily’s once beautiful black hair was brittle and falling out as a reaction from the medication she was on, by the time the end was drawing near, she had only patches of hair left. Lydia remembered crying when her mom asked to braid her hair one more time,  just hadn’t been able to do her own in so long, and even though Lydia was all grown up now, just once more Emily wanted to it. Slowly and deliberately Emily twisted Lydia’s blonde hair into two strands, and when she was done both women were in tears. Charles, who was silent for the whole thing, remarked how beautiful they both looked. 

A few days later Emily took her last breath. Lydia and Charles at both sides of the bed, holding her hands in theirs. Lydia doesn’t remember much of what happened afterward, it was all a blur to her but it still pains Charles to play over in his mind how Lydia screamed and cried for her mother to come back, that she wasn’t ready to let go, how he had to pry his sobbing daughter away from her dead mother, Lydia’s arms still outstretched reaching for one more hug, one more kiss, one more time of Emily doing her hair. He regretted not letting her, at the time he found it morbid but he often wondered if he had just let her say goodbye on her own terms that she would be coped better. Instead of righting his wrongs, he simply tried to ignore it, and hope that Lydia would come around. 

At home that night Lydia felt so numb, she had already cried so much that she couldn’t even make tears anymore. Her father was so busy preparing arrangements for the funeral and organizing family that he didn’t have time to console his grieving child. She would stand right in front of him, tears running down her face but he would dismiss her, as he scrambled to get everything in order. She never felt so alone, even with all the people constantly parading in and out of her house. Adults simply giving her pitiful looks as they went to talk to Charles about how strong he was and what a good example he was for Lydia. She could hear their whispers to each other, and their glances at the frail and meak little girl sitting on the stairs. She knew they wished she could just give them a polite smile or thank them when they gave their condolences. She couldn’t though, because she knew it was fake. They weren’t sorry for her loss, they were sorry that she hadn’t moved on. She couldn’t tell anybody how she felt, any time she tried they would just turn away. 

Her aunt sat by her in the living room and instead of reading the tone, Lydia was silent and tearful, she picked up a picture frame of Lydia’s family and remarked, “You know, you look just like your father.” 

She lost it, she managed a mousy, “I get that a lot.” before she ran up to her room, slammed the door and cried. 

The night before the funeral Lydia came down the stairs and found her father clutching a framed photograph of Emily in his hands. Lydia stared at the photo. Her mother and father were dancing, something that Charles never did unless Emily coaxed him into it. They were younger, maybe in their twenties. Charles in the photograph had messier hair and was frozen in a laugh as he dipped Emily. Emily’s mouth was in a wide smile and her short black hair was fanned out behind her. Lydia held back a whimper as she snuck out the backdoor and walked down to the drug store a block away. It was a route she was familiar with, growing up in New York Lydia walked a lot of places, but talking to the drug store this time felt strange as if reality felt off. Mindlessly Lydia walked through the aisles, unsure of what she was even looking for until she stumbled into the rows of hair coloring. Cautiously she picked up a box in her hand and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. Without saying a word she dropped the box on the counter, paid for it, and walked back home. 

She went into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of gloves and a pair of scissors. She quietly went into the bathroom and set everything down, careful not to attract the attention of her father. She held a photograph of her mother up to the side of her face as she stared at herself in the mirror. She stayed emotionless as she applied the dye, showered, and dried her hair. Standing back in the mirror she twisted the now dark black hair around her fingers, looking back and forth between the photo of her mother and herself in the mirror. She picked up the scissors and aggressively started cutting, long curls of her hair falling to the floor. Tears were streaming liberally and her face burned a bright red as she sobbed. When she was done it was choppy, uneven, and short. Shorter than she had even had it before. The longest section rested above her chin, but it was exactly what she wanted. When she looked at her reflection she didn't even recognize who she was, but she felt like she was looking at a ghost. 

“Lydia?” Charles called from downstairs, “What’s going on up there, are you alright?”

She gathered up the mess she made and threw it away before walking calmly down the stairs to greet her father. She hesitated on the banister, but there was no going back. She stood in front of her father and just waited for a response.

“What the hell did you do!” He screamed, “Oh my god Lydia, why did you do this? The funeral is tomorrow and you had to do this tonight, do you not think before you do things! Look at it-”

Lydia’s eyes started welling up with tears but she tried to keep herself under control. She knew he would be shocked, but she hadn't expected him to scream at her, not two days after her mother had died. 

“Lydia your hair was beautiful! I loved it, your mother..she loved it! Why did you do this! What the hell have you done, can you please just explain why.”

Lydia couldn’t help herself, the dam broke and she started screaming back at him, she could feel angry and hot tears running down her face, and her chest felt so tight that she was afraid she couldn’t breathe. She wouldn’t give him a straightforward answer, she just yelled at him about everything that she had been feeling, for how everyone had been treating her.

“I’m invisible dad! Nobody sees me, you don’t see me. All you do is look at everyone else, and look at pictures. Well, guess what dad, now you have to look at me! DO YOU SEE ME NOW DAD!”

“I am looking right at you, I haven’t gone anywhere. It has just been a rough couple of days-”

“I am so sick of everyone telling me that. That it’s been rough, and that it’s going to get better. It’s not going to get better, they are liars because they can’t bring her back!”

He sagged his shoulders, “Lydia, I’m sorry you feel that way. I just, I don’t understand why you felt like you had to do this. You cut your hair, you dyed it black. We understand you’re in mourning, but isn’t this taking it too far!”

Lydia’s face contorted and she began to violently shake, she collapsed on the ground and sobs wracked through her tiny frame. She looked up at her father and whimpered, “Do I look like her?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[whump-me-baby-one-more-time]

Greater Good - Chapter Two

No idea if anyone remembers this little thing I started, but it was supposed to be a first in a longer story, and I finally managed to get around to write the next part. It’s not very whumpy, but I promise the next part will be. :D 

Jackson fucked up and he knows it. His teammates know it, at least the ones still alive, and he’s glad to have escaped into the infirmary where he doesn’t have to face them and their baleful glares.

The guys back at the compound know it, too. Jackson has had enough malicious teasing to last him for a lifetime since he returned to the base. Even the damn nurse has been throwing him dark looks, for god’s sake.

But worst of all, the boss knows it.

Jackson wishes he was wrong, but he’s fairly certain word of his failure reached the boss before it ever even made the rounds among his brothers-in-crime.

Not that there’s much brotherly love to be lost.

“You should be fine in a few weeks,” the burly nurse says coldly. “Just don’t tear your stitches.” Or if you do, at least have the decency to bleed out somewhere where I’m not responsible, his tone seems to add, but Jackson simply nods and keeps his mouth shut.

“If the pain gets too bad take another one.”

Jackson pockets the painkillers with silent relief.

“Thanks, doc.”

The nurse shoots him another look and Jackson’s attempt at a grin to lighten the mood fades from his face.

“I’m not a doctor, smartass. The real doc’s too busy trying to put back together another one of the guys you blew up, so get out of here before he has a reason to get you under the scalpel as well.”

Jackson doesn’t need another hint.

He hurries out of the infirmary with his good arm wrapped around a crutch and pain shooting up his leg whenever he has to take a step. But he doesn’t complain. At least he got away with his life.

He doesn’t even react to the troglodytes lurking outside in the hallway, calling after him as he makes his way down to his room.

“Hey, Boom Boom Jackson! You look like crap!”

“Yea, what happened? Blew up a house?”

It’s the laughter that gets to him the most. Three of his teammates are dead because of a stupid mistake and all they can think about is the glee of having found another victim to pick on.

“The boss’ gon’ have your ass, Jackson. You and Dante are dogfood!” one of them exclaims with malicious joy and it’s only the door slamming shut behind him that keeps Jackson from tossing aside the small amount of self-control he has left in favour of going after them with his crutch.

He hobbles angrily to his room, avoiding the eyes of anyone passing by. When he gets there, his heart sinks and he almost considers going back to the nurse to ask for a bed.

But Reggie catches sight of him before he can back out of the doorway.

“What the fuck, Jackson.”

Jackson squares his jaw.

“Listen, Reggie, I can explain-“

“You better. What’s that with Cory and Sanders dead? And people sayin’ it’s your fault? You better have a damn good explanation for this, for your sake.”

So Reggie hasn’t heard of Flannaghan dying on the surgeon’s table yet. Jackson’s heart sinks even further.

“It was an ambush, Reggie,” he says defensively, which is true, but not the reason for three people dead and still counting. For all he knows, they could have made it out of there in one piece; all of them.

“Yeah? That why they been calling you Boom Boom Jackson?”

Jackson’s face reddens at the name.

“It wasn’t my fault.” But it was.

“I couldn’t have known the charge would fry the entire circuitry, okay?” But I did. There had been a ten percent chance of the charge going wild, but I ignored it.

"It was Cory’s job to calculate the power needed, not mine.” Excuses excuses excuses.

Reggie seems to share this sentiment.

“Your charge blew up an entire warehouse, Jackson.”

Jackson sticks out his arm. It’s a miserable sight, bandages around his wrist and hand, stitches on his biceps trying to hold together the pieces of skin where he fell into a heap of shards; the rest that isn’t bandaged or stitched up is a nasty looking red, the burns starting to itch already. The stitches in his side smart painfully at the movement.

“I know. I was there,” he says, voice strained. “But Cory fucked up. It’s not on me.”

For a moment Reggie stares at him and Jackson doesn’t know what to do. He feels bad for pushing blame onto a dead man’s shoulders, but then again there’s not much harm that can still be done to Cory, as opposed to his own shoulders that are still very alive and very, very prone to harm if he doesn’t play his cards right.

Cory was always a chill guy. Jackson’s sure he’d understand.

“It was still your charge that killed them. Isn’t that right?”

“So what?” Jackson snaps. “What are you gonna do now, huh? If I’d known that charge was gonna blow do you really think I would have pressed the trigger? Do you?”

Reggie rushes forward at his hostile tone but Jackson doesn’t even flinch.

“Oh yeah, beat me up! Go ahead! And once you’ve beaten all the guilt out of me you can go back and save Cory and Sanders with it. That your plan? That your fucking plan?”

He’s right up in his face now, almost spitting with anger, and for a moment the two of them glare at each other, fractures away from adding to the body count.

In the end it’s Reggie that backs down. His shoulders sag.

“Fuck, man.”

He turns away from Jackson and kicks a stray boot under one of the bunk beds.

“Cory was good people.”

Coming from Reggie, this hurts more than if he’d broken down crying at Jackson’s feet.

“I’m sorry, Reggie,” he mutters. And he really is. So much more than he could ever say.  

Reggie collapses onto a mattress and looks down at his hands; a big scary hunk of a man reduced to a grieving pile of regret.

“I should've been there, man,” he says hoarsely. “Would’ve never had to blow the charge if I’d been there.”

Jackson shifts his weight from his aching leg with a grimace.

“Look,” he starts weakly, “there’s nothing you could have done. Gabriel would’ve ordered the charge blown either way. You know him. He likes to make sure. Chances are, you’d be dead, too.” And then, very quietly, “It was just really bad luck all around.”

“Word has it boss has it out for Dante now,” Reggie says, still not lifting his eyes. “You’re lucky he didn’t choose you to piss on, you know."

Lucky. That’s not exactly the word Jackson would use.

“Poor bastard.” Reggie sighs. “You’re not gonna get out of this one with a smack on the hands either, though. You got a plan?”

Now he is looking up, green eyes scrutinizing Jackson, who just really wants to lay down and take another painkiller before thinking any further about any of this.

“A plan?”

“Well, yeah. Boss won’t just let you get away with a bad charge.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Jackson starts, but Reggie lifts up his hand.

“Don’t try that with the boss. He doesn’t like excuses. That’s why you need a plan.”

Jackson runs his good hand through his hair. It comes away filthy with soot and dust and he cringes when he thinks about how long he’ll have to shower to get it all out.

“I don’t have the fucking head for a plan right now,” he says, limping over to his bed. He plots himself down with a stifled groan. Two broken ribs and a fractured femur, the nurse had said, but Jackson has had his fair share of broken bones and none of them ever hurt as much as the burns do whenever he moves and stretches.

“You don’t want to face the boss unprepared.”

Jackson flares his nostrils.

“He can’t be that bad.”

“You’ve never met him, then, have you?” Reggie says.

Jackson fiddles with the laces on his boots, pain shooting up his side as he leans forward.

“So what?”

Reggie makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff and Jackson looks up to see him shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re a damn grasshopper if you think he won’t try to have your hide for this.”

“I don’t even know what the hell that’s supposed to mean,” Jackson mutters. The first boot comes off and he wriggles his toes in the fresh air. “But fine. I’ll think it over.”

Reggie is about to say something when there’s a sharp knocking at the door and both men snap their heads around, Jackson wincing involuntarily at the pain. Gregor’s standing on the threshold, looking at them with wide eyes. The kid’s always one tail shy of a goddamn cat in terms of skittishness and right now he looks particularly startled, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Boss wants to see you, Jackson.” A fidgety twitch of the shoulder. “Sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence as Jackson contemplates how much protesting would really achieve; Reggie’s casting him a meaningful look and it’s pretty clear he can’t expect much support from this front.

He drags the back of his hand over his eyes with a sigh.

“On my way.”

He slips his boot back on with much internal grumbling and limps out of the room. --------

Jackson doesn’t even know his real name.

Everyone just always calls him “Boss”, a single little word that’s enough to make an entire room full of hardened criminals behave like schoolchildren threatened with a visit to the principal’s office.

It’s one of his objectives to figure out the full identity and background of this mysterious figure, but instead of feeling elated at finally making it to a face to face meeting with the big man Jackson’s really, really pissed off at being left to stand in the middle of the room like a boy about to have his ass whupped for breaking mom’s favourite plate, while the boss sits comfortably in a cushiony high-backed chair behind his desk.

“Gabriel’s told me a lot about you.”

Jackson offers up a lopsided grin he doesn’t feel. “Only good things, I’m sure.”

The boss doesn’t smile. Dark blue eyes scrutinise Jackson and he suddenly feels very small behind his ragged clothes and filthy face, cursing his own luck at being summoned at a moment like this. He looks like a canal rat next to the boss’s white shirt.

“Sir,” he says out of a need to break the very uncomfortable silence. “I just want to say I'm really sorry for what happened today.”

“Sorry?”

Now he does smile, or at least that’s what Jackson suspects it to be, but it has more resemblence with a snarl as he pulls his lips back over a row of perfectly white teeth.

“Sorry isn’t going to bring back three of my men from the dead, Theodore.”

Jackson squirms at being addressed with his first name.

He knows it’s simply to establish dominance over him, like he’s still back in school and losing his head at the first sight of authority, but the man’s regarding him with such a detached demeanour that he can’t help but feel caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

The boss sighs.

“You’ve put me in a very difficult situation. Not only are we going to be five men short but you have to think about what message this will send to the others.”

“It’s only three men, sir, not five, and I’m sure-“

A thick, dark eyebrow cocks upwards with so much disbelief at Jackson’s naivety that the words get stuck in his throat.

“Are you implying that I don’t know what’s going on in my own enterprise?”

Enterprise. The word rings in Jackson’s ears as he’s once again reminded that no matter how high the body count might be, this is still first and foremost a business, and he’s standing right in front of its CEO. He swallows.

“No, sir, I’m just saying-“

“You,” the boss says calmly, interrupting him like you would a pouting child, “are partly responsible for me having to mark this day as a loss, Theodore. Do you know how much I hate to see my operations interrupted? We’ve lost an entire haul of goods that would have amounted to more than a normal person would make in a decade simply because of sloppy work.”

Jackson bristles.

“It was just bad luck. Everyone on the team acted within his best ability, there’s nothing we could have done to prevent this.”

“Is that so?”

The boss pushes himself out of his chair and circles around the desk. He’s got thick lush hair pulled back by a pair of pins that are barely visible in the halo emanating from the desk lamp. It glints in the light like polished ebony and Jackson can’t help but feel a sting of envy at the perfect jet black colour that looks exactly like what he wishes his own hair would look like instead of the unruly mess of vague brown that can’t quite commit itself to a specific shade he’s stuck with.

“What happened at the warehouse, Theodore?” He stands before Jackson, only an inch or two taller, but seeming to tower over the bedraggled ex CIA agent.

And how many operations has Jackson seen through? Almost ten years with the agency and still he’s writhing under the cold blue eyes like a rook on day one. He forces himself to get a grip.

“We ran into an ambush. The warehouse was supposed to be empty but we walked right into a trap. No one could have seen it coming.”

“Except for Dante.”

Dante. Jackson rubs his thumb against the cold metal of his crutch. He isn’t sure what to make of it, but the idea that the quirky accountant-turned-bankrobber decided to add “traitor” to his resume and risked facing the exact kind of trouble he’s facing now for no apparent reason strikes a wrong chord in Jackson.

“He was supposed to case the target beforehand, no?”

“Sir,” Jackson says, looking at the boss’s shoes because he knows if he meets his eyes the uncertainty will be written all over his face. “I don’t think Dante had a clue of what was waiting for us. He’s a good man.”

His voice steadies somewhat towards the end. Dante’s a good man, that he does believe.

“So you don’t think he turned on you and your team? Look at me when I speak, man.”

Jackson does as told, but the expression on his boss’s face makes him fidgety. It’s like he has only a mild interest in the case, his lips relaxed, eyes slightly lidded, one hand pushed into the pocket of his pants, but behind that Jackson feels a lethal determination to make an example of whoever’s responsible for the muck up.

The fact that at least half of it is his fault makes his mouth dry out.

“I… No. I don’t think he would do something like that. He’s no traitor.”

“Hmm.”

The boss runs a finger over the surface of his desk absentmindedly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. The seconds tick by until Jackson’s sure he’s gonna have a cramp from the anticipation and he’s just about to open his mouth when the boss has mercy on him.

“Do you know why I am where I am? Why I’m the one calling the shots instead of having to weasle in front of a supervisor like you have to right now?”

Jackson’s jaw slacks. “Sir?” But the boss doesn’t react to his polite mortification.

“Power, Theodore. That’s all it is. Power and money, but of course,” he says with the hint of a grin, “money’s worthless if you don’t have the power to use it. And knowledge is power, isn’t that what they say?”

Jackson shifts nervously, flexing the fingers of his bad hand with pain.

“I guess.”

“No, Theodore. Not guessing. Knowing. That’s the key. That’s why I’m where I am and you are where you are. Because I know so much more than you can ever dream of.”

He brushes a small strand of stray hair out of his temple and Jackson notices a fleck of gray starting to gnaw at the very beginning of his hairline, but if anything it simply makes him look more distinguished. Jackson sags on the inside. He just can’t win.

“Yes, sir,” he mutters, fighting down a bout of anger. He may not have a plan but years of experience have taught him how to deal with people he has no chance of ever beating through brute force and this is one of those rare occasions where he has to employ the agonizing tactic of Boot Licking And Demure Agreeing.

“And of course, I know everything about you. I’ve read your file, your mission reports. All of them.” A glint of amusement steals into his eyes when Jackson stares at him and the implications dawn on his dusty little world. “Including the Cherub incident.”

Jackson swallows hard. CIA files are highly classified and he isn’t sure he could even get his own hands on all of the mission reports he’s been a part of, but something in the way the boss looks at him without any need to prove his claim makes him belief that he’s telling the truth.

He doesn’t dare to think about what this could mean for his own undercover operation.

“You remember the Cherub incident, then.”

“I was… It was a stupid accident, sir.”

“More of that famous bad luck?” the boss says dryly and Jackson withers on the inside. “Seems there’s a lot of that going around at the moment.”

He cocks his head. When he speaks again, the casual tone has been sliced from his voice with icy anger.

“I should have you whipped and thrown in solitary for using a bad charge, Theodore. You and Cory both, but unfortunately he’s managed to die before I could get my hands on him.”

“Sir,” Jackson says, face burning. “There was no way of knowing what was going to happen. Cory should have-“

“But he didn’t. And you didn’t care to check his work even though you knew perfectly well what can happen if you use faulty equipment. From personal experience, no less. Now, you see,” the boss says before Jackson has a chance at defending himself. “Cory has paid for his mistake dearly and I am left with a plucky ex agent that thinks he’s better than the rest of my crew even though he’s too goddamn stupid to double check a goddamn wire.”

It’s the first and only time he raises his voice; he’s got himself under control before Jackson’s done flinching at the volume.

He adjusts his cuffs with a deep breath before continuing.

“Tell me, what would you do in my place?”

It’s a question to which there is no right answer and it has Jackson grinding his teeth. If he says he would be showing mercy it would not only be a blatant lie but also a very obvious attempt at saving his own ass, but if he tells the truth then he’s done for.  For a moment he considers how high his chances are of ending up dead.

Fuck it, he decides.

“I would make an example of the man responsible, sir,” he finally says, jaw so tense he swears if anyone were to poke it right now he’d bust a muscle.

“Hmm.”

It’s a deep hum, the kind that doesn’t leave any room for uncertainty but instead seems to speak of a decision that has been made before he ever even stepped into the office, and only waited for confirmation out of mere diligence.

“Very well, then. You’re dismissed.”

Jackson’s still processing the words when the boss sits down at his desk with brisk finality. He pulls out a sheaf of papers and picks up a pen from his desk, but looks up just as he’s about to put the tip to the paper.

“That means you can go. Gabriel will notify you of any further steps.”

Finally, Jackson manages to gather enough of his wits about him to stop staring.

“Yes, sir.”

It’s not until he’s already at the door, leaning heavily on his crutch, that he turns around one more time.

“What about Dante?”

The man behind the desk stills his pen for a small moment.

“Don’t worry, Jackson. I’ll be sure to take your advice to heart.”

He bares his teeth in an absent smile and for a second Jackson gets a glimpse of the darkness lurking behind the impeccable appearance, like a poisonous thorn peeking out from between the petals.

He leaves with Dante’s death sentence hanging over him like a shroud.

[sparklyjojos]

CARNIVAL DAY recaps [11/13]

Today’s recap: Dokuson’s lonely youth, a message from Meiru, and how to make your own Billion Killer.

[tw: suicide]

--

FIFTY-TWO

02 Aug 1997 — 08 Aug 1997

TOWER OF BABEL

--

[This is the last chapter, but it has around 270 pages and we still have A LOT to go through.]

(...Below is BOKU’s testimony. [Originally in first person.])

Dokuson and BOKU learned about the attack on Tsukumo Juku in the afternoon of February 7th. They rushed to the hospital at once. Inugami Yasha told them what had happened and that Gensoukan, Yasha’s black cat, and an old servant of the Inugami family had all disappeared.

Dokuson looked like he was intensely thinking about something he didn’t want to say out loud.

Thanks to quick surgical treatment, it looked like Juku was on his way to recovery; the doctors stated he had already pulled through the worst of it. Relieved, Dokuson and BOKU returned to the JDC headquarters. But then, around midnight, they got the news that Juku’s condition had suddenly worsened, and he passed away before they managed to get back to the hospital.

The same night, the Crystal Nightmare killed Desert Colosseum, and later in the day Ronely Queen died in the Statue of Liberty case. Three dead S-detectives in one day. That last case also claimed the life of Ushiwaka Gigolo.

BOKU remembers that tragic day well. Even Dokuson let grief show on his face, especially when told about Ushiwaka. After a few seconds of deep silence he told BOKU that Kirika would be taking over the representative duties that day, because Dokuson himself would spend the day secluded in the meeting room number six, mourning the dead. Only for one day, though, as humanity would suffer if someone as great as him rested any longer.

Seeing BOKU’s shock (the guy they call a Demon Lord showing feelings?!), Dokuson stated that it’s perfectly natural for him to grieve. A man who couldn’t even mourn the woman who was especially important to him could never become the world’s greatest genius, now could he.

Dokuson said that Ushiwaka had once been his ideal partner both at work and in private. The only condition he wanted a potential partner to fulfill was that they should understand him; Ushiwaka was the first woman he met who understood. (BOKU wasn’t sure how two people with such strong personalities could work as a couple—it’d be like mashing the same poles of two magnets together—but apparently they did.)

But that was many years ago. Dokuson was still young, just an immature boy with barely the glimpse of his current perfection, his heart filled with bright hopes for the future.

Dokuson stressed that what had attracted him to Ushiwaka was not her beauty or genius; the real value and beauty of a person was their soul and heart, their personality. Dokuson, as the self-aware narcissist, knew he possessed a dazzling heart and was because of it the world’s most beautiful person. The world’s second most beautiful person would therefore be someone who could understand and love him the most in the world.

As Dokuson had already explained once, all humans had a narcissistic part to them; without any degree of self-love, people would simply drop dead. Loving others more than yourself was extremely hard. Even the most dramatic declamations of self-sacrifice could be just empty words. People would say things like “I would die for you”, but from Dokuson’s point of view, someone who really understood and loved him should strive to outlive him; he wouldn’t stand for anyone sacrificing themselves for his sake. As far as Dokuson was concerned, those who looked at him and felt even just a little love were the true possessors of beautiful clear souls.

Once upon a time, young Dokuson had no hope whatsoever for being loved by other people. Who could ever love and understand him more than he loved and understood himself? But then came Ushiwaka. She was the first person who loved Yuiga Dokuson more than Yuiga Dokuson loved himself.

...but you could say that it was her love—and the frustration and regrets it led to—that in the end caused Dokuson to fully blossom into his narcissistic self.

Though they were young, Ushiwaka had already found her unique style of reasoning, which relied on falling in love with someone. Tragically, her feelings would disappear once she solved a case—this happened with their relationship too. It’s not that Ushiwaka had only pretended to love Dokuson all this time; she explained at length that she had genuinely been in love with him, but her feelings came to a sudden end along with a case.

Back then, Dokuson found this explanation hard to accept. He wanted to know more about Ushiwaka’s reasoning method and investigated on his own, full of immaturity and confusion about feelings.

And then, though he never meant to kill anyone, he pestered Ushiwaka’s new boyfriend with questions and cornered him psychologically so badly that the man committed suicide.

Ever since Dokuson was a small boy, he had a mysterious power of tragically manipulating others using words. When he was five and a police officer tried to reprimand him, he started lecturing the officer in turn, making the man completely break apart mentally and commit suicide soon afterwards. It seemed like just a tragic coincidence at the time.

Dokuson would only realize what he’d done much later in life, after his words had already taken the lives of many other people. The death of Ushiwaka’s boyfriend was the turning point. Now aware of the powers of his words, fully understanding his guilt, he consciously limited and softened his speech. No one else fell victim to his words since that time ten years ago. He decided to never use his power again unless it would be absolutely necessary.

The power to kill others with words wasn’t something unique to Dokuson; he was just an extreme case, but every person had the potential to wound others deeply. He would bet that even BOKU had unwittingly said something that indirectly led to someone’s death.

Dokuson didn’t intend on running away from his faults, and specifically because he was so deeply aware of them, he could keep growing. People learned by making mistakes. Even Dokuson, this shining beacon of the human race, had accumulated many horrible deeds throughout his life. After all, those called the great men of history were often “wrongdoers” who logically strode away from the common path, often seen as heretics or eccentrics by their contemporaries. Those who only followed what others did would never become great. If someone had to dirty their hands for the sake of erasing evil, then wouldn’t that role be perfect for Dokuson, the one with the power of a hundred million people? He was enough; he wouldn’t want to create a second or third “Dokuson”—for the sake of the world and humanity, and (most importantly!) so that his name would stay special and unique.

(...Dokuson was doing his confusing philosophical rambling again, but BOKU kind of understood what he was trying to say. Dokuson felt like a rehabilitated prisoner who would see young criminals that reminded him of past himself and want to guide them to a better way of living. He detested the past himself who killed Ushiwaka’s boyfriend, and took care not to create “another himself” with his actions.)

Dokuson had many enemies, but the one who truly hated him the most was himself. No one could possibly hate themselves more than Dokuson, maybe except for people about to commit suicide. In order not to be devoured from the inside by this burning self-hatred, Dokuson had to always maintain his narcissism on the highest level—if he didn’t, his state of mind could lead to another tragedy like with Ushiwaka’s boyfriend. In this way, Dokuson became the world’s greatest narcissist to atone for the past.

Another part of his atonement was the kunoichi detective Sarutobi Shinobu. A long time ago, Sarutobi, Ushiwaka, and Dokuson had decided to fight the evils of this world in remembrance of Ushiwaka’s tragic boyfriend. Sarutobi Shinobu, real name Sado Nawa, was the dead man’s sister.

The four Sado siblings were Hifumi, Shigorou (the one who died), Nawa (Sarutobi), and Kutou (involved in the Three Monkeys Killer case). The D-name “Ushiwaka Gigolo” came partially from Shigorou’s name. How Sarutobi came to work for Dokuson was too complicated of a story to be told now.

 Dokuson said that love never lasted in the same shape forever, and it was impossible to continue loving someone for eternity. The Dokuson who talked to BOKU at the moment and the Dokuson who was once loved by Ushiwaka were two different people. However, all the memories still remained within him, and he would want to take some time to remember the golden past.

After saying all that, Dokuson closed himself in an empty meeting room.

--

Twenty-four hours later BOKU opened the door to the meeting room and found Dokuson in a strange pose: sitting motionless at the table with his eyes closed, holding a red rose between his teeth like a tango dancer. It seemed to be the same rose he always wore in his chest pocket.

Dokuson didn’t look angry at the intrusion, but BOKU still had a feeling like he’d just walked in on something no one was supposed to see.

Dokuson put the rose back in its proper place and said that he’d been meditating in order to rest his mind and body, “just like you all sleep at night”.

(That was… a strange way to phrase it. But now that BOKU thought about it, in all his days and sometimes nights at JDC he’d never once seen Dokuson nap, despite his job being so exhausting. He also never saw him eat or go to the bathroom. Not even once. Did Dokuson intentionally ignore all his needs until he was alone late at night or what? At least now BOKU could understand a bit where Dokuson’s atmosphere of a superhuman came from; things like eating or sleeping were necessary for people to seem human, but were absent from the concept of “Yuiga Dokuson”. That nickname of Demon Lord sure fit.

A lot of people perceived Tsukumo Juku in a similar way. Someone had even joked once that the God of Detectives was removed from the concept of mundane actions like eating or sleeping. But no matter how supernatural of an atmosphere a person had, they couldn’t just completely get rid of all their bodily needs… though they could probably limit them to as low as humanly possible. Probably one of the reasons why they both seemed so otherworldly?)

But back to the topic, Dokuson explained his rose meditation. He had been plagued by debilitating insomnia as a child, and even now couldn’t sleep like others did. When tired, he would just perform his rose meditation, which would clear his head as well as sleeping. And no, it wasn’t just a convoluted way of napping, as Dokuson stayed conscious of his surroundings the entire time, even though it could take him some time to come out of the meditation and respond to stimuli. (...that still sounded like napping to BOKU.)

As for why a rose or another long slim object was needed, holding it in one’s mouth would force the facial muscles into the same position as during a smile. Even a forced smile caused the brain to release chemicals acting like antidepressants and helping boost the immune system. And so, Dokuson would switch into “relax mode” and for a short time sleep while staying awake. He just had to remember to often swap the rose for a new one to hide the teeth marks. 

So he did just nap after all… That’d be it for this mystery. Though it was still weird that Dokuson allegedly only meditated four times a day, one hour of sleep in total. His day was technically much longer than BOKU’s. Dokuson had said once that things that would take BOKU half a day could be done in his fifteen minutes, so maybe it’s that relative difference in day length he meant? BOKU made some calculations out of curiosity. He was twenty-one and Dokuson was twenty-six, and his half a day of work was equal to Dokuson’s fifteen minutes… then going by proportions, BOKU’s entire life work could be achieved in Dokuson’s four months...  and going in the opposite direction, BOKU would need like a few thousands of years to achieve the same as Dokuson did in his entire life… Huh. Maybe that’s why Dokuson claimed he had a mental age of three thousand years and tended to talk like an old man.

Dokuson said that even though he was so “old”, the “generation gap” between him and other people could be crossed with enough understanding. This attempt to understand another person was the most important thing everyone should strive for, otherwise society would collapse. Dokuson personally treated everyone around him like great teachers (as even after he had become the best in the world, all those teachers would show him what not to do). From the point of view of Dokuson—the oldest person on Earth—everyone was his junior; it didn’t mean he looked down on them, but that he didn’t feel inferior to them and was glad they still had space to grow (as the perfection that was himself couldn’t grow anymore). He felt like an old champion of life looking at young trainees.

Dokuson stated it’d be good if BOKU also became the best in the world, which would simply require him to believe he was the best. As Dokuson knew for sure he himself was actually the greatest, he wouldn’t care if BOKU had a similar conviction.

(...so what Dokuson was trying to say here... was that it was fine for BOKU to just be himself. This actually made him feel a lot better.)

Asked about how he grew up (to be like this), Dokuson said that it could be summed up the easiest by invoking the feeling of loneliness tied to insomnia. Ever since childhood, his life had been full of endless futile hours spent alone in darkness, comparable to prolonged psychological torture. If sleep made people forget all the bad things in life, maybe that’s why sleepless Dokuson was so quick to grow up; he couldn’t just relax and move on at the end of the day. Endless monotony of the night, lying alone with just his thoughts, all of it was maddening—people naturally yearned for variety.

Staying awake for a few days had an interesting influence on one’s mind, and after a certain point allowed for better concentration and drawing on the body’s hidden power, similarly to how during an accident people can see events in slow motion or use amazing strength. As Dokuson couldn’t sleep, this tension of a crisis never had a chance to dissipate. Even at that tender age he had to deal with hell on earth, trying to adapt to the loneliness of the night without going insane. And so, with his abilities constantly pushed to the limit, with survival instincts taking lead, Dokuson managed to survive hell—and that’s how he came to be like this.

(BOKU didn’t know whether or not this tale was true or not. All that mattered was that Dokuson seemed to believe his own words, and that they allowed BOKU to get a better understanding of what kind of a person he was.) 

--

A week after the Crystal Nightmare, on February 15th, Firannu Meirunesia died in the Billion Killer case in Venice. Meiru’s usual partner Somedaring Amagoi wasn’t there at the time, as she had gone missing shortly after the much earlier Tower of Pisa incident.

Right before the Venice case, Meiru had called Dokuson from St Mark’s Clocktower. They said that they may have just figured out something about the Billion Killer trick, and that Amagoi had been kidnapped by someone. If Meiru would survive the day, it would mean their reasoning was off, and if they died soon, it would mean they were correct. Meiru didn’t want to tell Dokuson everything, but gave him three clues. First, Amagoi was dead. Second, it wasn’t impossible for them to solve the Billion Killer if they were ready to put their life in danger. Third, the Billion Killer incidents consisted of thirteen unprecedented tricks mixed together.

Those three clues together implied that Amagoi’s kidnapping (death?) had something to do with the Billion Killer. But how would Meiru know that Amagoi was dead? Who killed her and how? Dokuson thought it interesting that Meiru hadn’t said anything about Amagoi being killed, just that she was dead.

Asked about why he hadn’t stopped Meiru from putting themselves in danger, Dokuson said it would be a disservice to an S-detective like them. You never stop an S-detective gambling with their life, just like you don’t stop magicians or stuntmen from dangerous shows of skill.

But how could Meiru get to the truth faster than the greatest genius that was Dokuson? Well, Dokuson had already told BOKU once [way back in Carnival] that no one could solve a case without the necessary data, which no one had yet… except for the members of the villainous group.

Just like Meiru had played out a persona during investigations, they also played out the role of being an S-detective; in fact, maybe that double-role reasoning method originated from having to work on both sides of the conflict. They had to be involved either with RISE or another organization that allowed them to get secret data.

Lemuria Sullivan had already shown that even S-detectives had less than perfect sides to them. Amagoi’s real kidnapper was probably Meiru. But even then, an important part of Meiru’s personality was being a splendid S-detective, so maybe they felt compelled to solve even their own crimes by giving Dokuson hints. Perhaps they were more afraid of losing their detective reputation (and thus a part of their identity “dying”) than of actual death.

What did Meiru mean by “thirteen unprecedented tricks”? Way more than thirteen Billion Killer incidents had already occured (twenty-eight at the time of this conversation), so those thirteen tricks would have to repeat, but then they wouldn’t exactly be “unprecedented”. Perhaps the word meant something else? Dokuson suspected they wouldn’t be able to solve the Billion Killer just yet, and Meiru could have been just taunting them.

--

Dokuson always seemed to think highly of Tsukumo Juku. He said he was able to pin down Tsukumo Jaki’s identity (Yakuma Suzume) with help from Juku and Sarutobi, and that Juku would be needed to end the Crime Olympics. Unfortunately, Juku was murdered before they could achieve that goal.

BOKU learned a few interesting things talking with Dokuson and Inugami Yasha (who had been working as the vice-representative of JDC ever since the Crystal Nightmare).

Juku had theorized that the Billion Killer tricks were the thirteen Miraculous Illusions of his father Saimon Ryuusui. Jaki / Yakuma could know them, as he was probably Endou Masato, whose father Naomasa (already dead) had once been Ryuusui’s thirteenth disciple. Naomasa coincidentally (?) was also a university teacher of Tousen Yomiko, a private detective that had been lifelong trusted friends with Juku. Yomiko was permitted to use the Endou family’s mountain house called Gensoukan, and it was on her recommendation that Juku and Yasha came to live there. Yomiko disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle shortly after telling Juku about Gensoukan.

Naomasa’s sons Naoto and Masato had both disappeared a few years earlier. It was more than possible that Masato disguised himself as Yakuma, manipulated his mother into giving Yomiko the keys to Gensoukan, and made Yomiko disappear to cover his tracks. It was unknown what relation Masato / Yakuma / Jaki had with Tamei Madoka, the writer who had assassinated Juku and died from Alive.

As for how Masato would be able to make himself look exactly like Yakuma, both brothers had once been known as genius surgeons.

The thirteen Miraculous Illusions had apparently been invented by Saimon Ryuusui, but were still unfinished by the time he showed them to young Juku. Dokuson had no doubt that Endou Masato had learned about the Illusions from Naomasa, stole their secrets, and eventually perfected them into the Billion Killer tricks. (It couldn’t have been Naomasa who stole and perfected them first, because then they wouldn’t be “unprecedented” like Meiru said; the word implied only one person had used the perfected illusions so far.)

It’s likely that Juku had been killed due to him being the only person who had seen the Miraculous Illusions in person. Many people close to him had also died or disappeared.

--

Whenever BOKU listened to Yasha and Dokuson discussing things, he always got a strange feeling that they were treating Juku’s death lighter than they should. Like they were too quick to stop mourning. It’s true that in the era of the Crime Olympics death became more commonplace, but still... it almost felt like Juku’s death had never happened at all.

BOKU had been there in the morgue when the white sheet was pulled back and he, Dokuson and Yasha were shown Juku’s dead face. It was quite striking how his face, although still extremely handsome, had become just beautiful in a normal, comprehensible, flawed way after his death. BOKU instantly thought that the body could have been switched, but both Dokuson and Yasha stated without hesitation that this was not the case and the body definitely belonged to Tsukumo Juku.

Even so, BOKU still had a strange feeling (was just deluding himself?) that perhaps Juku was still alive somewhere.

They had no idea how Gensoukan had disappeared. Endou Naomasa’s wife insisted that while the family let Yomiko access their grounds, there never had been any Gensoukan built there. Just like BOKU felt that Juku’s death had never happened, Yasha was starting to feel strangely like his memories about his time at Gensoukan, and even Kanaihidetaka and Sayo had all been just illusions.

Dokuson thought that Gensoukan had been removed somehow after the assassination, maybe by lifting and moving the entire blocky construction. If Tsukumo Jaki had been able to pull off the blooming sakura trick, he should have no problems organizing Gensoukan’s “disappearance”.

--

One day, Dokuson told BOKU and Yasha that he would no longer be JDC’s leader. Not because he was trying to escape responsibilities. On the contrary, this action would allow him to save humanity. He had had another plan once, but that one was rendered impossible by Juku’s death, so there was only one thing Dokuson could do now—become the Billion Killer. That is, become the one everyone thought was the Billion Killer, a comprehensible bad guy figure needed to allay some of humanity’s confusion.

That had been the plan even earlier—Dokuson would pretend to have been the Billion Killer, and Juku would pretend to expose his crimes to the world. Juku hated the idea of tarnishing Dokuson’s name, but in the end agreed to the plan seeing the other’s burning determination.

Now that Juku was gone, Yasha would have to take over the Heroic Detective role in the plan. Yasha wasn’t as known and beloved as Juku, but popular enough that people would believe him and the (carefully faked) proof he presented; he would become the hero who forced the Billion Killer to run away in fear and no longer manipulate JDC (which was except for “the Billion Killer” wholly innocent, of course). They didn’t have to worry about Dokuson—the world’s greatest genius would be able to hide even if everyone on Earth was looking for him.

And so, Dokuson left a recorded confession and fled on June 6th. Sarutobi Shinobu disappeared the same day. Manji Tawawa also left JDC, claiming she would pursue Dokuson on her own.

Yasha became the leader of JDC and presented their fake scenario as real to the world, claiming that he had infiltrated JDC as an undercover private detective to investigate and expose Dokuson. Just like planned, people seemed to completely believe him.

BOKU honestly wondered if Dokuson’s actual goal in all this wasn’t to get everyone on Earth to remember his name, with saving humanity as just a bonus perk.

When the Billion Killer cases stopped following Dokuson’s escape, BOKU and Yasha realized that maybe Dokuson actually was the real Billion Killer, and had only revealed his identity because he had wanted to stop the cases anyway.

Then again, no more cases didn’t have to mean the real Billion Killer was finished; it could only look like the cases stopped. The only undeniable proof that something was a Billion Killer’s incident was a skull left on the scene by the men in black. If Dokuson managed to hide the skulls or stop the men in black, then even though the cases still happened, the Billion Killer disappeared in the eyes of the public.

Well, whether or not Dokuson was the actual Billion Killer (and he always vehemently denied being a part of RISE), he certainly had suspicious knowledge of the scheduled cases.

Dokuson also hadn’t looked surprised at all when Kakuusan Kanke told them about what had happened in the Earth House—she ran into Nemu, Hyouma, and someone who looked like Unomaru. From what Nemu and Hyouma told her, Otohime was also held in RISE’s underwater fortress called the Sanctuary, and there would be seven “guests” in total (the three plus Yaiba, Christmas, Diana Hosey, and the Hantos that counted as one). Kanke also learned that apparently the higher-ups of RISE were six out of the seven S-detectives.

--

No Billion Killer case (or at least a confirmed case) occurred for a month after Dokuson had disappeared, but many horrible events still happened.

In the chaos before the Carnival Wave would come, three men in black showed up and led BOKU and Yasha to a nearby hotel, where to their absolute surprise they met Ajiro Souji. A lot of confusing explanations followed. Ajiro said the tsunami wouldn’t touch Kyoto, so they didn’t have to worry about survival.

RISE had changed their plans a little and now wanted to add Yasha, BOKU, Kanke, the writer detective Nakamoto Hiroya, and the editor detective Outa Katsushi to their final guest list. Yasha and BOKU should go with the men in black now, while Ajiro would return to JDC.

Yasha wondered whether Ajiro would be able to take care of JDC without them, but Ajiro assured them that wouldn’t be a problem—because as much as it pained him, he was going to suspend JDC’s functioning completely until August 10th. JDC as an organization couldn’t stop the Cosmic Bomb, so maybe at least the people could spend their last month in peace, without having to worry about work. If humanity would survive after all, suspending JDC now would allow for less people to die needlessly, so that everyone would be ready for re-mobilization after August 10th.

And so Ajiro stayed behind, while Yasha and BOKU were taken to the Sanctuary and learned many strange things...

--

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

[mass-effect-tales]

Shot in The Dark ch. 4

Nero pushed Skye away while Shepard and Garrus fired on the beast to draw it's attention away. Nihlus covered Nero as he helped Skye out of the area and ordered her to stay away before returning to assist Nihlus.

Shepard cursed as she tried to aim at the beast while it continued to jump around. Garrus had gotten a few shots in along with Nihlus. Nero found an opening to move in and sever the tendons of the beast's back legs, making it only able to limp around as Shepard and Nihlus moved in with their rifles. Finally with a well placed shot to the head the beast collapsed and disappeared into nothing. The group watched as the Alliance ships took down Sovereign. Shepard noticed one of the pieces was heading their way and shouted for everyone to move just as it crashed through the glass.

---------------------------------------

"They were over here!" Skye quickly led the group of soldiers to the wrecked council room. The group immediately started digging through the rubble looking for the group or any sign of them. Skye perked up when someone shouted they found someone and quickly rushed over to see they found Garrus and Nihlus.

"Nihlus! Where's Nero? Did you see what happened to him?" Skye could feel her throat tighten with worry when he shook his head. She was ready to start digging again when she heard footsteps coming towards them.

From another pile of rubble Shepard appeared helping Nero up as both of them limped to the group. Skye couldn't stop the tears of relief from running down her cheeks.

It took a few weeks for Nihlus and Nero to recover but soon things had returned to a semblance of normalcy. Skye hasn't heard from Garrus since he returned to c-sec but she still keeps in touch with Chakwas who has kept her informed that Shepard was doing well. As for Nihlus and Nero; the little bounce in Skye's step went away as she remembered the last time she saw the drell.

-------------------------------------

"Alright Nihlus, you should be fit to leave in three more days. As for you Nero, you've been deemed fit enough to leave today if you want." Skye smiled brightly at both men as she updated them. She tried not to chuckle at Nihlus' grumbling while she handed Nero a holopad for him to sign his release form. Skye bit her lip nervously as she thought about her next comment.

"So Nero, I heard spectres usually have a small crew on their ships. I was wondering if your crew needed a medic." Skye smiled nervously as Nero handed her back the holopad.

"I don't have a crew, I work better on my own." 

"Oh." Skye felt her smile fall a bit but she quickly fixed that to appear his statement didn't affect her. "Well, your clothes are on the side table and you're all good to go." She quickly excused herself to give the doctor the holopad and inform the head nurse of Nero's release. By the time she returned to check on Nero he was gone and Nihlus looked frustrated.

-------------------------------------

"I guess I read him wrong." She mumbled to herself as she made her rounds through her section. By the time she reached Nihlus her earlier thoughts were a fading memory.

"Alright Nihlus, you're free to go." Skye chuckled as he almost jumped out of bed. He had dressed in his usual outfit earlier since she sent him a message earlier that he was clear.

"Thank the spirits! If I have to look at the same view for another hour I'd go nuts." He took the holopad from Skye and quickly signed it before passing it back to her. His normal grin had faded and he looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"Listen, do you still want to join a crew? I know I'm not Nero but I could use your talents on my team." 

Skye was silent for a moment. She did enjoy Nihlus' company and he did make her laugh. She guessed it wouldn't hurt if she went with him.

"Sure, on one condition."

"What?"

"Teach me how to fight."

-------------------------------------

The Amonkira is a small but quick vessel which perfectly suited Nero's needs. Usually the silence of the ship was calming but ever since leaving the Citadel it felt oppressive which usually led him to playing music on his omni-tool to break the silence. This time though the silence was broken by a message from Nihlus.

I need your help with something. Can you come to the Citadel?

The message made Nero raise a brow. Usually if Nihlus needed assistance with a mission they would meet at the mission point. 

Of course. ETA 20 minutes.

Nero changed his navigation to redirect the course to the Citadel before sitting down and looking up a vid for meditation music.

-------------------------------------

Nero walked through the crowd until he reached the Two Moons cafe where he knew Nihlus would be waiting for him. What he wasn't expecting was to see a familiar head of honey colored hair tied into a braid over her shoulder sitting with Nihlus looking over a holopad.

"Skye?"

Skye looked up from her holopad, giving him a curt nod before returning to her holopad. Nero couldn't tell what formed the knot in his stomach, the nonverbal reply or Skye's hand resting on top of Nihlus' hand on the table.

"You needed my assistance?" Nero asked, sitting down in the seat across from them. Nihlus nodded, sitting up and moving his hand out from under Skye's hand so he could look through his omni-tool.

"You remember when Shepard was announced as KIA?"

Nero remembered that day well. While he didn't know the commander well and rarely spoke to her when he was on her ship, he admired her determination to take down Saren and how much she cared about her crew.

"Of course, it was a tragedy when it was announced." 

"Well, the council never attempted to find her body. I found out the location of the Normandy crash and want to go there to find her tags and bring them to her mother."

While he admired Nihlus' want to give Shepard's mother closure, he couldn't imagine her tags would be easy to find after almost a year after her death. 

"Are you sure that is wise? Are you sure the council just didn't announce they tried searching for her body."

Nero was surprised when Nihlus let out a frustrated hiss from his subvocals.

"You and I know damn well they wouldn't waste their time looking for a dead spectre, even after she saved their asses they pay her back by leaving her to fade into Alliance recruitment vids and scholarship titles!" Nihlus got up and stormed off to cool off. Nero was about to get up and followed him when Skye's voice made him stop.

"Let him cool off, he has been upset for a while now. I understand since Shepard became a close friend before she died. It does seem disrespectful that neither the Council or the Alliance sent out anyone to look for her body or even her tags."

Nero watched Skye twirl her braid between her fingers. He could see even in the braid that her hair had grown longer. His mind began to wander as he tried to imagine her hair out of its usual braid. How long was it? How would it feel between his fingers.

"How long have you two been together."

He almost didn't recognize the question coming from his lips. He shouldn't care what she did, he hasn't seen her in almost a year.

Not since he told him he'd rather be alone than have her join him.

"Oh, actually we recently broke it off. It started not too long after he was released from the hospital. We just didn't go together and agreed we're better off as friends."

"And the hand holding?"

Skye laughed, he found he enjoyed the sound of her laughter.

"He was tapping his fingers on the table waiting for you. It was the only way to keep him from fidgeting."

The knot in his stomach had loosen with her explanation though he could feel himself tense when Skye started coughing. She quickly dug through her bag until she found her inhaler and took a few puffs before her breathing returned to normal.

"Has that been getting worse?"

Skye shook her head as she returned her inhaler to her bag. "Not really, I'll have a fit once in a while but nothing as bad as that time in Huerta."

Nero nodded, forcing himself to relax as he noticed Nihlus returning.

"Sorry about that. Listen, if you don't want to come I'll understand-" Nihlus began before being cut off by Nero.

"I'll join you."

-------------------------------------

The winds of Alchera stung Nero's face as he looked through the destroyed Normandy. The three of them had been searching for over an hour and while they found many dog tags from the crew, none of them were Shepard's. 

"Nihlus, we have looked everywhere. If Shepard's body didn't burn up in the atmosphere, she might have landed away from the crash site," Skye called out. She hated talking about Shepard like that but she needed to get her point across.

"Then we'll increase the search perimeter, it couldn't have been too far." Nihlus said, ready to continue his search before being grabbed by Skye.

"Nihlus listen, we searched all we could. If she landed out there then her body could be buried and we'll never find her, the snow had almost a year to bury her. I know you mean well but you need to let her go."

Nero could hear the mournful trill coming from Nihlus as he hugged Skye, burying his face in her neck. He looked away to give him some privacy to grieve. Not too far from where they landed he noticed indents in the snow that had been buried in a light coating of fresh snow. Judging by the length and distance apart he theorized it belonged to the landing legs of a ship.

"Nero! We're leaving!" Skye called out to him as she led Nihlus to the ship. Nero walked over and helped Skye lead Nihlus inside before moving to the dining area to make them all something warm. He passed Nihlus a cup of kava while Skye got a cup of jasmine tea, her favorite.

"I'm sorry, I really thought that we'd find her." Nihlus said, looking down at his kava. 

"It's alright Nihlus, how about we go get a drink somewhere." Skye suggested.

"The closest place near here is Omega." Nero stated, taking a sip of his coffee.

"A drink does sound good," Nihlus mused, taking a sip of his kava before standing up to go set the navigation to Omega.

-------------------------------------

"I regret this suggestion." Skye mumbled, trying to avoid looking at the asari dancer who was dancing on their table. Nihlus and Nero looked unfazed with the performance as they continued to drink their drinks. 

"You know, it's rare to see a drell around here." The dancer purred, sliding into Nero's lap. "Is it true just a kiss could make someone high?"

"Don't you have other tables to dance on?" Skye huffed, glaring at the woman who just smirked at her.

"Don't you have to take someone's temperature? I mean, who wears scrubs to a club?"

Skye could admit working in the hospital has left her with mostly scrub tops which didn't change after joining Nihlus since she would usually wear a scrub top and a nice pair of jeans when not working.

"I'm going to the bathroom." Skye grumbled as she scooted out of the booth and pushed her way through the crowd to the restroom. The dancer laughed until she felt herself being lifted and placed on the table.

"I believe you have other customers to attend to." Nero said as he got up and walked away in the direction Skye went. The asari huffed and looked to Nihlus as if he'd comfort her.

"You heard the man." Nihlus snickered, taking a sip of his drink as the asari huffed and stomped away. 

Nero slipped his way through the crowd looking for Skye as he walked. When he reached the restroom he noticed a line and grew concerned when he did not see her on the line. He immediately started a sweep of the club looking for her galaxy patterned scrub shirt or her honey colored hair in the few crowds of humans.

"Get your bloody claws off me! I didn't do anything!"

Nero quickly followed the sound of Skye's voice and saw her between two large turians who were dragging her to the exit. He immediately recognized their armor and called Nihlus as he followed the turians.

"Nihlus, get to the exit. Skye has been grabbed by the Blue Suns."

[erasethedarkness]

How Do I Love Thee: Into the Limelight

Ch.1: The End

Note: How Do I Love Thee? is a series that is meant to be a slow, slow burn. While ultimately a romance, readers will not find love and affection in the first few chapters- they may not even find it in the first parts, or “arcs.” The series is meant to lay down the foundation for friendships and then build on it towards romance. The reader character exists and influences this world as much as the canon characters do- therefore, the story isn’t just about the feel good moments, butterflies, and honeymoon phase- it’s about the development of the reader and her relationships.

With that in mind, I will let you all know that HDILT? will become an Aizawa x Reader x Yamada, and hope that the wait will be well worth it to those who choose to follow the series. :)

Summary: You’d spent that last 18 months on tour with your band, RUSE. Not only were you their lead singer and second guitar- you were the very reason for the namesake. After all, your quirk was just a ruse, wasn’t it? The band quickly grew in popularity thanks to your connections in the entertainment industry. Your uncle was the owner of a successful venue in Tokyo named Limelight, and it was there that many musicians made their first entrance into the real world of rock ‘n’ roll. 

Following the night of your last show, you met with your band manager. What was supposed to be a time of great relief and joy quickly turned somber. As fate would have it, you were returning home just in time for a funeral. 

--------------------

Finally, the longest and largest tour you’d ever done was coming to a close. After over 75 straight weeks abroad with some of your closest friends and business partners, you were ready to return home. The tour tested the bonds of everyone present, serving as a trial for even the closest friends and lovers. Everyone needed the upcoming break from RUSE to work on new material, and more than that, to work on themselves and their families. Plus, your drummer and keyboardist just got engaged and had a wedding plan.

Tonight, as the band was performing their latest chart toppers, you shut your eyes tightly as you held a note, hunching over as your body began to glow. When the note came to an end, you snapped upright again, raising your fist proudly, and with your upward momentum, spectral fireworks flew out from the transparent, neon aura that surrounded you. Brightly colored sparks bloomed above everyone, bursting just like real fireworks, crackling in the air and decaying at the same rates without leaving any residue or harm to the venue.  And as always, the crowd was riotous with delight for your tricks and grand displays, the excitement lasting through the end of the show. It was as if your quirk was meant for this.

Your ears were still ringing as the stage lights dimmed, leaving you all in darkness as you finished the encore. Arena lights came on as you walked offstage, the crowd slowly but surely moving along, their chatter creating dull white noise. Leaving your mic and guitar onstage to be packed up by someone else, you slipped passed everyone, exhausted by the last display of your quirk.

You would have done more than just fireworks for your last show, but the back to back performances between last night and tonight drained you of your energy. All you had left was just enough to get you back onto the secured RUSE tour bus and collapse in a seat as everyone else tore down the set and packed up. In the past, you helped with teardown, but it became more and more apparent that you needed to rest almost immediately after each show- something you begrudgingly accepted after you fainted before you could even make it off the stage early in the tour.

In most cases, you slept through the beginning of the after parties and made a grand, late entrance. But tonight, as if the relief of finishing the last performance unlocked the floodgates of hidden fatigue, you slept clear until the next morning. You woke up in the hotel room you shared with your bassist, Emi Mizushima, tucked into bed wearing last night’s clothes. The digital clock beside the bed read 08:15, giving you close to ten hours of sleep. Quietly and considerately, you made it out of bed and to the bathroom, desperate for a shower and change of clothes. As you undressed, you placed your phone on the counter- only to see an unread message from your manager.

Text me when you wake up.

The message was short and undetailed- which was very unlike him. Marcus had no issue with carrying out conversations through texts, and would often leave messages to be responded to at the earliest convenience. Being told to message him when you woke up just didn’t sit right with you. What did he need to talk about that he couldn’t just text?

After you showered and changed, you sent him a message, expecting him to still be asleep. Emi was after all, leaving you to assume everyone was up late. But your phone soon vibrated with another message, and to your surprise, your manager was requesting you meet him in the hotel cafe for coffee.

“(Y/N)!” Marcus called for you after you finished ordering your drink. He was at a table that was tucked away from the open lobby that the cafe blended into. You waved to him in acknowledgement as you waited at the counter for your drink, somewhat concerned for the man who certainly looked like he’d seen better days. It looked like he was out as late as you assumed Emi and the rest of the band were, and just never went to sleep. That, coupled with his vague message only worried you even more.

“Hey… Are you alright?” you asked as you sat down across from him, placing your drink on the table and holding it with both hands. “You look like someone just died.”

The look Marcus gave you instantly made you regret your words. His brown eyes were tired, as if they’d spent the night grieving rather than celebrating. They lowered from you as he sighed deeply, the mug of black coffee in front of him cold and full. You two sat in silence as an indescribable weight began to stifle the air, breaking as you spoke again.

“Who was it..?”

“...Your uncle.”

Your heart sunk as he broke the news to you.

While you were passed out after the show, Marcus received a call that he took in private while everyone else headed to the bar to celebrate. He knew the number- it was the personal number of a man who created music legends and ran Limelight, a successful venue back in Tokyo. The man was a good friend of his, but more importantly at the moment, he was also your uncle. When he answered, the voice he heard was your aunt’s. Even in her heartbreak, she didn’t want to call you and ruin your fun, assuming that you were celebrating with everyone. Through painful sobs, she explained what happened.

It was a classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time- at least, that’s what everyone else would say. That’s what your aunt said, and that’s what your manager repeated. But as you listened to the break down of events, you found yourself disagreeing with the sad story they were spinning. Your uncle was a man of action- that’s exactly how he got to be so successful, and how he helped musicians and bands become successful as well. He built and nurtured his relationships, and he always found solutions to the problems that were brought to him- and even to some that were not. So to hear that your uncle- a man whose greatness could easily overshadow most of the pro heroes in the world- died creating an opening for a young woman to get away from an assailant- well, that didn’t sound like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time at all. To you, it sounded like he was exactly where he needed to be.

The young woman waited for him in the hospital as the doctors did everything they could, and she was the first to speak to the police with information on the attacker. It didn’t take long for the killer to be apprehended after they got involved. Even with tears trickling down your face, you knew that your uncle would have been happy with the way things unfolded. He was simply that kind of man, and knowing that he saved one person would have been enough to put his soul to peaceful rest.

Still, you were heartbroken that one of the people you most looked forward to seeing was no longer waiting for you. After your 12 hour flight from Cairo to Tokyo, you wouldn’t be sitting with your uncle and telling him about the concerts you performed and the wild parties that were just part of the job like you planned to be. Every time you came back, you’d stop by Limelight and reminisce over how different your last show was compared to the first, which took place right on his stage.

Marcus left you at the table after sharing another heavy silence with you. Today, everyone was returning to Japan. Homecoming parties were planned by families and friends to welcome back their touring rockstar, and everyone was ecstatic to be home. Even with the emptiness that stung at your chest, you expressed a genuine delight in seeing your family and friends. For this one moment- this reunion after eighteen months- everyone was happy and grateful for your safe return.

But it ended just as quickly as it came.

One wonderful evening gave way to several nights of mourning. In the time it took to prepare your uncle’s funeral, you found yourself in your aunt’s company more than anyone else. They had no children- you were the closest thing to a child for them. As if it was some cruel trick of luck, you returned just in time to help her through the hardest part of her life since her parents passed years ago. More often than not, you took care of the legal work while she cried beside you, her head just as blurry as her vision.

You planned most of the funeral, inviting honored guests to speak that were outlined in his will, and each responded, confirming that they would give a eulogy for the legacy your uncle left. When the day came, the cemetery was full of family, friends, and famous artists who had once performed on his stage.

Sitting with your aunt, you held her hand as she sobbed beside you. Without surprise, each invited speaker was eloquent and commanding with their eulogies- the ones you recognized were performers, after all, that had graced your uncle’s stage more than once. But the last- the last speaker, you had never seen.

When the honored guest took the stand, he had an entirely different presence than the rest. Standing tall with a forlorn expression, he passed a sidelong glance to the polished urn that stood out among flowers and memorial ribbons. His green eyes looked over the rim of his white-rimmed sunglasses before he bowed his head, seeming to collect himself to begin his speech. As he lifted his face, he pushed the glasses up into his long blond hair, using them as a headband to draw back the straight, almost silky looking strands that slipped over his shoulder when he lowered his gaze.

The man wasn’t a performer you recognized, and you were certain that your uncle never introduced you. He was a complete stranger, and you felt yourself becoming a bit guarded, intrigued as he took a deep breath that hushed the attendees. Your uncle introduced you to most of his friends, helping you build your connections when you were just a fledgling musician- so, just who was this man that your uncle made sure to include in his will as an honored guest that never once made your acquaintance?

“A hero, by definition, is someone who is admired for their courage, achievements, or noble qualities,” he began, his voice carrying to the farthest person, and somehow gentle like a whisper, “yet today, it has become a prestigious occupation. The job and duty of a pro hero is to protect civilians from villains and disasters, often- if not exclusively- with the help of their quirk.

But what happens when there isn’t a pro around?” His question hung heavily in the air, awaiting an answer that would not come from the audience.

You squeezed your aunt’s hand, sharing a glance with her before you both turned your attention to the tall blond. For the first time, you noticed the small pencil mustache over his lips, and just as you did, he started speaking again.

“Well, that’s when the real heroes shine,” he answered himself softly before recanting aspects of your uncle’s life that somehow seemed new to you. Even if you’d heard the story before, hearing it from the slender man who almost looked a little too sharp in his black suit for a funeral, added something different to it. The way he spoke of your uncle had a flourish to it that you could have sworn was manifested in the man himself. Something about him just seemed to embody a strange whimsy that enthralled you and lowered your guard. His eloquence lacked the haughtiness most people of honor and prestige seemed to carry with them, and by his last words, the room was in tears.

A small streak ran down his cheek when he left the stand. Handing your aunt a last tissue, you stood as he passed you and gave him a small bow of your head. His green eyes met yours, and he simply returned a fragile smile before you replaced him in front of everyone to conclude the funeral. With everyone departing, you lost track of him, and before you could make a proper introduction, he was gone.

[venomdoves]

Our Little Vignette (Part 2)

I finally updated!!!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Janis? Janis?”

Janis slowly tilts her head up to be met with Damian’s pale blue eyes, her own puffy and swollen from crying. She doesn’t know exactly how long she’s been sitting in this hard-backed plastic chair, weeping quietly into her hands, but she’s sure that it’s been hours. Hours since Sonja was whisked away, hours since Janis wrenched her hand from her friend’s and fled the room. 

“Anyone home?” Damian’s voice is teasing, but his eyes are soft as he waves a hand in front of her bloodshot eyes. “I have news.”

“Is she okay…?” Janis murmurs, mopping at her damp eyes with her paint-stained sleeves. She has to be okay, Sonja has to be okay, she’s too tough to go down like this, she can’t be gone…

“She’s doing great,” Damian assures her, nudging Janis to stop chewing on her lip as she always does when she’s anxious. “It got dicey there for a few minutes, but she’s stable and resting comfortably in her room. They’re intravenously rehydrating her now. Doctor said she should be able to go home tomorrow and she’ll be back on her feet and just fine in a few days.”

Janis sobs a little at that, fresh tears of relief welling in her eyes. “She’s - she’s okay...oh my God, Damian…”

“I know,” he murmurs, kneeling by her side to wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Scary few hours, hmm? But it’s over now. Everyone’s okay.”

“Can we see her…?” Janis manages, still attempting to wipe her face of tears. “Sonja and I have been friends since eighth grade, I know her, she won’t admit she’s scared but she’s gonna be freaking out right now, and being alone always makes it worse-”

“Take a deep breath,” Damian says lightly, giving Janis a gentle nudge. “She’s supposed to be visited by family only, but her mom is trapped at work...but then again, you are stepsisters, aren’t you?” 

Damian’s eyes sparkle with mischief and Janis can’t help but giggle, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you…”

“Any time, sweet. Off you go, go check on your sister for me.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janis shuffles awkwardly into Sonja’s hospital room, her feet squeaking on the tile as she lifts her hand in greeting. “Hey…”

“Janis?” Sonja lifts her head a little, her eyes almost imperceptibly widening in relief at the sight of her face. “Come over here, I want hugs.”

Well-accustomed to Sonja’s mannerisms, Janis hears the slight pleading behind the order and shifts forward willingly, perching awkwardly on the side of her bed. “How are you feeling…?”

“Like shit that got hit by a cement mixer.” Sonja lets her head loll to the side, shifting it into Janis’s lap. “Also high. I don’t know what half of these painkillers are, but it’s the good shit. I can’t feel my toes…”

Janis slowly slips a hand into her hair, combing her fingers gently through her friend’s soft, amber-brown hair. “I’m glad you’re not so sick anymore…”

“Me too,” Sonja jokes, catching Janis’s free hand in her own. “I’m a big fan of that.”

They fall silent then, never a pair to indulge in formalities such as small talk. Sonja nestles contentedly into Janis’s lap, huffing a sigh at the stroking of her hair. But Janis isn’t nearly as content, the brief reprieve of seeing Sonja displaced by the return of her brewing anxiety. She’d been so sick in the car, and Janis had been powerless to help...and now she can see in the way Sonja clings to her hand that she’s scared, but she doesn’t know why or how to stop it…

“Stop chewing your lip,” Sonja mumbles, her voice scratchy and hoarse from her irritated throat. “You’re gonna chomp through it again, and I’m too tired to calm you down and stuff gauze in your mouth.”

Once again, Janis hears the compassion and caring behind the callous words, slowly letting the edge of her lip free from her teeth. “Don’t worry about me, you’re the one in the hospital…”

“Jan, I’m on enough drugs to knock out a hippopotamus. Spill.” Sonja wriggles a little further into her lap, the comforting weight of her body lending Janis a little bit of grounding. It’s not unlike a weighted blanket, albeit one with a foul mouth and anger issues. “C’mon, take my mind off the needles in my arms and the disgusting taste in my mouth.”

Janis smiles weakly at her teasing, lightly tapping Sonja’s shoulder to simulate their usual playful punches. “Fine...for you, and only for you, you moron.” She lets out a heavy sigh, slumping back against the crinkly hospital pillows as she weighs her words, trying to put her swirling thoughts into words. “I guess…I don’t know, just...you were so sick in the car, and there was blood, and...I was kinda scared you weren’t gonna be okay, and then all the needles, and the hospital, and you had my hand and I didn’t wanna leave but I had to get out, the needles...and then we were waiting so long, and I still didn’t know how you were or what was happening or if - if you were gonna - gonna make it -” Janis’s voice breaks then and she turns her head away to hide the rapidly welling tears from Sonja’s questioning amber eyes. “You scared me, idiot, I thought you were gonna die and I was never gonna see your stupid idiot face again and I fucking love you, and there’s only one Sonja Acquino in the world and I thought you were going to leave!” A sob tears loose from her as she finally confesses her worst fear, what’s been running through her head since they started for the hospital. Left by her father, left by Regina, she’s terrified of being left again, abandoned by someone else she dared to love.

For a moment, silence, only punctuated by Janis’s muffled, hiccupy sobs as fresh tears course down her cheeks and the beeping of the hospital machines. Then Sonja grasps her hands, hard enough to hurt a little, gripping Janis’s hands tightly in her own small, cold ones. “I’m not going to die on you, Jan, not anytime soon. I’m not. I know a lot of people have left you behind, but I’m not gonna be one of them. I’m never going to leave you. Hell, if you do outlive me my fucking ghost will chase you around writing creepy shit on your walls and making fucking weird moaning noises in the middle of the night, because try as you might, I’m not gonna leave you. I’m not going to leave you, you hear me? I’m not going to leave you.”

Sonja’s voice breaks a little too, the same cracks showing through as she lets her guard down. Her father left too, left her behind when she was ten years old, and she understands the same crippling fear of being abandoned again.

Damian is fatherless as well, for the same reason, but he’s not like them. Damian goes through life with a trusting heart and an open mind. He’s easily able to trust, faithful enough in the good of humanity to approach life without hesitation. Janis isn’t like that, and Sonja isn’t either. Hurt and abandoned and grieving, they pieced themselves together far more roughly than Damian did, carrying with them that anger and that pain that makes it difficult to trust anyone. 

They met in eighth grade, a few months before the space dyke debacle. Janis had been kicked from the Plastic table for wearing a ponytail twice in one week. As she shuffled in disgrace to the “freak table,” she’d settled in place beside a skinny Latina girl with waist-length dark hair and an empty lunch box. She can still recall just how glassy Sonja’s eyes had been, how hollow her cheeks were in her thin face as she’d eyed the others’ lunch trays hungrily. After only a moment’s hesitation, Janis had pushed over her lunch box, secure in the knowledge that she’d come home to another meal. She’d gotten the sense Sonja didn’t have that security. 

Their first conversation had been simple and hesitant, a few words exchanged quietly under the eye of the Plastics. But they’d discovered they had more in common than they would have thought; the freak and the Plastic. It had been with a slight warmth burning in her chest she’d never felt before that Janis had returned to the Plastics after lunch, a faint regret stinging her heart as Sonja disappeared into the crowd of students.

And then after that horrible day after she came out to Regina, it had been Sonja to come after her. She’d known Damian for almost a year by then, but he hadn’t quite grown confident enough to enter the girls’ bathroom or skip class. So it was Sonja who coaxed her out of the bathroom stall, who cleaned the tracks of makeup from her tear-stained cheeks, who comforted her by coming out to her on the dirty tile floor, who taught her how to be an outcast. And they’ve been friends ever since. Two people afraid to trust, trusting each other over shared experiences and weeks of slow learning. 

Sonja is the only person Janis knows who can truly understand her, all the ugly and bruised and broken parts, because she’s ugly and bruised and broken in the same places. Losing her would be like losing her hand.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, Sonja’s tan hand brushes away a tear from Janis’s cheek, and with a sudden start she realizes that there are tears welling in Sonja’s eyes as well. Of course there are, of course she’s afraid, she’s the sick one, she’s in the hospital…

Then Sonja throws her arms tightly around Janis’s neck, burying her head in the soft fabric of her paint-splattered jacket. Without hesitation, Janis wraps her arms around her just as tightly, rocking Sonja soothingly, gently stroking her soft brown hair as she cradles her. Muffled by the shirt, barely audible, Sonja mumbles something again and again, something Janis realizes after a few repetitions as “I love you, I love you so much, I love you…”

Heartbreaking at the fear in her voice, Janis pulls her closer, rocking her soothingly as her own tears flow. “I love you too, Sonj.”