#this is why i should wake up at normal times

[softtdaisy]

in the meantime / Aaron Hotchner

summary. when hotch gets hurt, you're called as his emergency contact. thing is, nobody knows you're not together anymore.

words count. 2 336

what to expect. a little angst I guess but fluff too, Jack is mentioned but he's a teen

a/n. I first imagined this very funny and light and I ended up adding more angst??? but it's still sweet and cute and hotch is a lover boy

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When you got called at school, at first, you didn’t think it could be that moment you’ve been scared of for months finally happening.

Being a kindergarten teacher, it was easy to leave your class and ask for a colleague to take care of your children. They were all occupied with creating a new poster with their names and wouldn't even notice your absence. Well, you imagine they wouldn’t because you weren’t supposed to leave for too long.

“Do you know who’s asking for me?” you asked the principal’s assistant who came for you. He was one of your friends here, so you knew how to analyze his gesture. And from how fast he was walking right now, you could tell this was more serious than you first thought.

“Well, she’s a brunette, dressed in black.” He stopped in the middle of the hallway to think for a second. Trying hard to remember what her name could be. Thing was, you didn’t know that many brunettes, dressed in black that could authorize herself to come here. “I think her name is Emily or something like that.”

You stopped in the middle of the hallway, freezing. 

You appreciated Emily. You would even call her a friend, even if you only knew her through Hotch. But you barely talked outside of the moment you spent together. 

Getting a call from her would have been weird. Having her come to your school wasn’t normal at all.

Yet, here she was. Waiting in the principal’s office. Indeed, she was wearing an all-black outfit but mostly wearing a concerned expression on her face.

When you opened the door, she rushed to you, interrupting her conversation. Her hand was soon on your shoulder and her eyes were locked on yours. You found some comfort in it. The problem was, you had no idea why you needed it.

“What are you doing here, Emily?” you asked, whispering like it was some secret the rest of your colleagues or your superior didn’t need to know. Which was true, somehow. “Is everything alright?” 

But you knew it wasn’t. And the three words that followed were the proof. “It’s Hotch.”

Your heart dropped, and the whole world went silent. 

You’ve spent months afraid of hearing these words one day. Checking your phone multiple times a day, waiting for his text to make sure he was doing fine. There were moments when you would have the same nightmares of coming home to an empty house, sometimes with more graphic images you wished you could forget.

When Emily noticed you seemed to disconnect from reality, she put her other hand on your shoulder. “He’s ok,” she added. 

“I don’t know how, but the unsub managed to stab him in the stomach. He lost a lot of blood and went to surgery, but he should be fine. Spencer told me he was waking up when he arrived here, you heard Emily explain, but her voice seemed like a distant melody.

You tried to focus on the good news, that Hotch was fine. As fine as he can be after an attack that probably woke up some trauma, but fine. Not dead. Not in danger. Fine. 

You took a breath and nodded to accept the information you just got. And showing Emily that you listened, that you understood what she said. 

It wasn’t until you managed to keep your stress as low as possible that the question popped up in your head. “You came all the way here to tell me?”

Emily looked at you with confusion. 

“Well, you’re his girlfriend and his emergency contact. And you weren’t answering your phone. I thought it would be better to bring you to the hospital myself than let you learn about that later by yourself.”

That was the moment you understood why Emily chose to drive all the way here.

Hotch didn’t tell anyone you weren’t together anymore.

Dating Hotch was easy, more than people thought it was.

He was a great listener. He loved to hear you speak about everything in your life just as much as he loved paying attention to small details. Offering your favorite flowers, having your favorite artist in his car, and sending a text about important events at your job even when he was miles and miles away. 

You could tell Hotch was working on the experience he got from his past relationship and all that he still had to learn to be a good partner for you. And he was doing a wonderful job on it.

This relationship did a lot of good for him too. With Jack being a teen and less with his dad, he finally felt like he had a new purpose to come back home. Hotch learned to love opening his door again. This time not being met by the silence. But by you, with some kind of reality TV on, reading a book on a sofa he almost forgot about before seeing you on it—not to mention the memories the both of you created on it. You made him feel loved. At his place but at every place in his life too.

For a year, you two have been the happiest and did everything to make this relationship work. Even the team noticed the change in Hotch’s personality. And after multiple drinks together, you started to call them friends too. You both loved the routine you created together. 

But even with the brightest sun shining on your relationship, the truth was the stress was still there. His job was anxious, to you, but to him too. Having someone to care about in his life once again made Hotch concerned about losing you. He tended to be more protective after rough cases, sometimes leaning to some controlling behavior he hated as much as you did.

The disputes became more and more recurrent. And after another fight, you both decided that maybe you needed a moment away from each other to wonder if this was really worth it. You wanted Aaron Hotchner to be the love of your life; you really did. Just as he wanted to. But was it really the life you both wanted?

It was a hard month away from him; you won’t lie.

And knowing you almost lost him was even hard.

“Let’s go,” you finally replied. And the ride to the hospital was surprisingly calm.

The few times you saw Emily, you both kept chatting for hours to the point Hotch even laughed one day about fearing she might steal you from him. But this time, there were no words. Not only because of the stress, but also because you realized you were lying to your friend because of Hotch. You haven’t seen him in a month, having no idea about what his life might have been these past thirty days. And she was great at worming information out of you. So you would rather not say a thing instead of spilling a secret.

The whole drive to the hospital felt like a fever dream. And nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming feeling you got when you opened the door. A mix of relief and stress.

Hotch was there, indeed. Underneath a white sheet that made his skin look even paler, with dark circles bigger than the last time you saw him and a tired expression that made you wish you could do anything to let him relax and rest for at least a month.

He was facing the window and only turned his head when he heard you coming in. And the confusion replaced the tiredness on his face. Yet, you still noticed the short smile that drew on his lips when he saw you. “What are you doing here?”

His tone was sweet. Sweeter than usual. No matter how down he was, Hotch took everything in him to make you feel welcome. He didn’t want you to question your presence here or to think he was questioning it. He was glad to see your face after the awful day he had. Yet, he was still wondering why you came. After a month apart, he thought you put him aside. 

Deep down, Hotch had the feeling he was easy to forget. But you weren’t. You never felt his head or his heart.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t even talk. You were just focused on the silhouette of the man that shared your life these past months, lying on this hospital bed, looking so fragile.

You walked to him, as close as you could. So close that your knees bumped in the bed without you realizing it. You couldn’t resist the need to brush his hair, putting away some strands that were on his forehead. His confused and drained eyes follow each one of your moves.

“Honey?” he asked again, reaching for your hand. 

When you were together, not a day went by—except for those when he was away—where you wouldn’t hold hands. In the morning, when he was getting up, you tried to keep him with you a little longer. During breakfast, while he was drinking his coffee. When he said goodbye, kissing you before putting a kiss on your entangled hands. Or when you went to sleep, cuddling, with your hands on your stomach—or his, when he needed it after a rough day.

“You didn’t tell them we broke up,” you said in a low voice. It was the first time you said it out loud but also realized what it meant. And having Hotch in front of you, calling you by the nickname that followed you your whole relationship and caressing your hand with his thumb softly, helped see the truth behind that. “Emily came and picked me up because I’m your emergency contact, and I wasn’t answering my phone, and as your girlfriend, she assumed I needed to know. Because you didn’t tell anyone we weren’t together anymore.”

You finally landed your eyes on his, losing yourself in his baffled puppy look. “You’re right, I didn’t.” Hotch said. It was the first time since you came in that you noticed his voice was a little raspy. “And I’m glad it led you here.” 

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, not that you doubted he meant it. Over a year, you’ve learned to recognize Hotch’s expression. Especially the way his face was always softer when he was with you. Or how his very stoic and linear mouth always curled up in a smile around you.

Still, you had one question on your tongue. “Why?”

“Why am I glad?” he replied with a giggle. One that was sadly followed by a grimace. You watched as Hotch brought his other hand to his stomach to ease the pain. The doctor told him that even with the medicine, it would take him multiple days to get better. And until the stitches were gone, he wasn’t allowed to go back on the field.

But suddenly, the idea of being stuck at his office or at home wasn’t as awful as it was when he first thought about it. 

You sighed, focusing on his face rather than the wound he was clearly keeping hidden from you. “Why haven’t you told them?” 

Hotch took a second to look at you. The answer was obvious to him, to the point that there wasn’t a question to begin with. Over this past month, there was not a moment where he thought he had to make things clearer about your situation. Sure, he was a very private man, yet he never lied about you. He just kept things as they were. “Because I didn’t want it to be over.”

Hotch sat up against the headboard and motioned to you to sit on the bed with him. He moved his legs to give you space. And the heat you felt when he held your hand tighter to help you reminded you of the obvious attraction you had for him. Even after he had a terrible day. 

“Listen,” he started again with a tone that imposed on listening to him. That's not to say you weren't paying attention in the first place. “I know we made this decision together, and I respect it. And this month apart gave me the time to think about us.”

The first night coming home to an empty and silent house wasn’t easy for Hotch. He felt like he had failed again at keeping someone in his life. He hated that he lied to Jack, saying you had family obligations to explain your absence. He didn’t want his son to be disappointed about his dad's inability to maintain a great relationship.

And one day, Jack told him about a girl at school he had a crush on and everything he did to prove to her it was worth trying rather than giving up.

“I want to make things right with you.” Hotch pursued, bringing your hands to his chest. “Maybe I need to work on my perception of danger when it comes to you. And if so, I will do it. Because I want you.”

You always found it fascinating how his eyes often spoke louder than his words. And the look he was giving you right now was the best argument he could have found to prove you he meant it. Hotch loved you. And so did you. 

When a smile started to grow on your lips, also a silent answer to his silent confession, you noticed his lips curved too. Hotch let go of your hand to bring his own to your neck and move your face closer to him. But you stopped right before your lips touched.

“Maybe you should just consider not getting hurt the next time we argue.” You whispered, which made him laugh.

“Right, I’ll think about that.” He replied before finally guiding you to his lips.

Hotch never stopped believing he would get you back. So maybe he was right about not telling anyone about the breakup. 

[feyburner]

hello, i hope you're doing well, the world keeps getting crazier which means that i'm spending more time on fanfictions and i've been thinking about your jaytim fics. particularly, jason and how human he is when you write him. his awkwardness bc he was dead for a while and then doing. not very good. and how he probably has to catch up on simple stuff like who even taught him how to shave??? sure he learnt how to wire bombs but that didn't leave much time for stuff like sexuality and romance? just some experiences that he was robbed off. also very much interested in your take on jason's morality re: killing and what it means to him. anyways i'll dive back into my jason comic marathon <3

God yeah I think about this all the time, it's one of the things that interests me most about his character. Like how fucked up to die at 15 and wake up at like 18 and immediately launch yourself into your big crazy revenge plot that you think it's going to make you feel less howling animal inside but all it does is destroy your chances at ever having like, a normal interaction. By the time you calm down a little you've basically skipped from 15 to like 20. And everyone around you is also a freak who will never live a normal life and some have even also died but you're the only one missing a huge chunk out of your formative years. (Don't care about conflicting canon timelines or retcons.) (I also like this on a meta level bc it mirrors the fact that Jason was For Real Dead from 1988-2005.)

Re: morality, killing: A lot of his character is about catharsis to me. He is hotheaded and impulsive and direct and unsubtle (see: heads in a duffel bag) in a way the other Bats aren't. Who among us hasn't seen a news story and thought "I don't believe in state-sanctioned violence but damn, someone should kill that guy"? He is the guy who kills that guy. And sometimes it's for "noble" reasons and sometimes it isn't, and sometimes he might like to think it is but it isn't, and sometimes it immediately backfires and makes things worse for the people he is trying to help, and it can and has made him a hypocrite. It is also, I believe, an understandable stance for someone who was murdered as a child by a guy famous for essentially walking around wearing a T-shirt that says "I Love Hurting and Killing People (and I'm Definitely Going to Do It Again)." Bruce doesn't kill people because senseless violence made him an orphan. Jason kills people because senseless violence made him dead. Of course a child who lived and a child who died would look at death from opposite sides. It destroyed both of them at a formative age in opposite ways. Bruce crystallized around the after, and Jason around the before. I think it makes perfect sense that for the rest of their lives they would keep seeing only the after, and only the before, and in doing so keep looking past each other.

I feel like a lot of Jason meta is either "The Bats are so naive, Jason is the only realist" OR "Here's why Batman is right and Jason is an irredeemable monster" or whatever. Neither of those readings are compelling to me. I don't care which character is "right" or "good." If I wanted to read about good people making morally airtight choices I would go read Goofus and Gallant but only the Gallant parts and then kill myself. None of the Bats act in a way that aligns with my real-life morals. I think the "killing question" is most interesting viewed in the context of an individual character's relationship with violence and justice and atonement and forgiveness and consequences and least interesting in the context of pitting characters against each other to determine Who's Right and Who's Wrong.

I wrote the following exchange a while back as an exercise to explore this very topic.

Warning for CSA mention below the cut.

-

“I mean, hell, what if he got hit by a bus? Anyone can die, any time. Think of me as a big angry red bus.” Tim’s eyes on him feel like burning, but not so immediate as fire. More like the warning heat of sunburn: for now a faint prickling, for weeks after an ache. “End of the day? I don’t think he should be alive. I don’t think the state should get to decide who lives and who dies, but I’m not the state. And I know people can be rehabilitated. I know there’s a chance he could change, and never do it again, and spend the rest of his days saving kittens and helping little old ladies cross the street. But from what I’ve seen, this kinda guy, we’re talking a puny fucking chance. There’s people the system fails and people who could be helped by a better system and then there’s people who aren’t gonna fucking change. They’re just gonna keep doing awful shit, because it gets them off. Hurting kids. Hurting anyone they think is less powerful, or less of a person. Fuck that. The thing is, I know they’re people. And I’m a person too. And I don’t have the fucking right. To be the arbiter of fucked-up justice or whatever. But you know what? I can’t find it in me to give a shit. If those scumbags wanna kill me back, they can have at it, that’s their prerogative. Until then, some fuck rapes a five-year-old? No, fuck that. What if he does it again? He’s already done it. Hurt that kid forever. Snuffed out that thing inside them, whatever it is that makes kids think the world isn’t a shitshow. Can’t unring that fucking bell. Why should he—once was too many! Don’t you get it? That kinda guy—once was already too many! Why should he get to do it twice? And so fucking many of ‘em do it twice. Can’t keep your hands off a little kid? Fuck you. Headshot. Problem solved. You can’t change my mind about this, Red. I didn’t make the choice to kill people on a fucking whim. I thought about Hell and decided I’m up for it. Alright? Fuck off.” 

“You don’t have to convince me.” 

“And another thing—” His mouth clicks shut. “I—what?” 

“I said you don’t have to convince me.” Tim examines his glass, tilting the last swallow of watery gin back and forth. “If I were going to argue with you, I suppose I’d quote a statistic about how something like 93% of childhood sexual abuse is perpetuated from within the immediate family, and killing the abuser could drastically destabilize the child’s living situation and potentially place them at risk for other types of harm—”

“There’s nothing stable about—!”

“—but I’m not going to argue with you, because I don’t want to, because frankly I don’t care. I should—some days I’m better, and I do—but I don’t at the moment. Not tonight.” 

Jason stares at him for long enough that Tim grows visibly uncomfortable, shoulders stiffening. 

“What,” he says, eyes darting up to Jason’s, then away. His long fingers never stop playing with the glass, rolling it slowly, tracing the same wet circle on the tabletop. Jason wishes he would just finish his drink. And hold still. 

“You don’t care,” Jason repeats. “Great. Namaste. So what’s with the interrogation?”

“Interr—?” Tim looks startled. “Jason, I was asking.”

-

So yeah.

[ladykailitha]

Murder in the Heartland Part 1

Here it is, the most wonderfully insane idea I've ever come up with and I've had some whoppers (Steve in a mental institution and Vecna's Timeloop from Hell for example). This is still the wildest. Only that's a twist that's coming up way down the line. My wonderful discord peeps @forgottenkanji, @dreamercec, @bookworm0690 know all, but you'd have to join my discord to be in on the secret (there are other lurkers there who might know, but they might not *shrug*).

Summary: When a serial killer strikes Hawkins, the police zero in on Eddie Munson. But when the last would-be victim Robin Buckley says that it Jason Carver who was trying to kill her and not Eddie, the police are further put in their place by an anonymous tipper who did all the work they should have done instead of going after clearly innocent Eddie. So Eddie becomes a PI to find this anonymous tipper. Featuring Mystery Writer Steve, who will play into the later plot. ;)

You will see snippets of Steve as the story goes on, but it will be Eddie's story for about 2/3 of it. It is also set in canon time for reasons that will become clear as the story goes on.

~

Interviewer: I’m here with Steve Harrington who has put just put out his seven novel in the thrilling Joe Keery books, ‘The Hollow Promise’. How are you this morning?

Steve chuckled: I’m tired. I’m a writer, I spend all my nights writing and my days sleeping, so this is a little outside my normal waking hours.

Interviewer: Gosh I wish I could do that, but I chose to have a morning talk show instead. Won’t you tell the listeners about your latest book.”

Steve: It’s about a series of murders in a small town and our hero comes to town to investigate and finds a bigger mystery than he anticipated.

~

Eddie’s life went to hell the day Steve Harrington blew town. Not that he would find that out until years later. But then again people were more preoccupied with Robin Buckley swearing up and down that Jason Carver who had been trying to kill her and not Eddie than remember a kid being thrown out of his parents place for being gay so... yeah.

Well, okay, so his life had been hell a little bit before Steve blew town. But that wasn’t as interesting an opening as the day Steve blew town. So he still had a flare for the dramatic, sue him. After all it was that flare that made him become a private investigator in the first place.

When Chrissy Cunningham had been murdered just after Eddie dealt her Special K, that made him the prime suspect in her death.

Which, rude.

She had been dealing with some pretty fucked up shit. Like being queer in a small town levels of shit on top of her mom being constantly on about her weight and her boyfriend pressuring her wear a promise ring. In high school.

Then another student died. A boy on the basketball team, Patrick McKinney, who someone else claimed had bought steroids off Eddie. Which couldn’t have been true, not if it was performance enhancing drugs. He had offered to sell them to high schoolers when he first started dealing, but Rick assured him he already had someone for that.

Then another girl died. Someone Eddie hadn’t known. He knew of her. But she wasn’t even in any of his classes, in any of his senior years. She also didn’t do drugs. Hell, Molly Masters was a known Straight Edger. She wouldn’t have gone near Eddie unless she wanted to throw hands.

Which is why he was blamed for her death, actually. They insinuated that she had finally had enough of his drug dealing ways and had gone after him.

He even had an alibi for that one, not that it mattered. Playing in front of five random drunks and a stingy ass bartender wasn’t exactly as air tight as it could have been. Because as far as witnesses go, they were pretty shit.

Then Barb Holland died. And that was a kick in the teeth. He knew who she was but only in a tenuous ‘best friend of the girlfriend of the most popular boy in school’ kind of way. Eddie was starting to see the pattern, even if the cops didn’t.

Then the final one which ended in the death of Jason Carver, Chrissy’s boyfriend. Only Robin Buckley was still very much alive.

But for the those first three days, she was in a coma. So the police spun the narrative that Eddie had been trying to kill her when Jason had interrupted them; saving her life, but losing his in the process.

Until she woke up and blew the whole investigation out of the water.

“I’m telling you Jason Carver was trying to kill me,” she said for the tenth time to a motley crew of Hopper, Powell, and Callahan from her hospital bed.

“Now why would he go and do a thing like that for?” Powell huffed. “Jason was a good, upstanding young man. Captain of the basketball team. He loved Chrissy. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not for anything.”

Robin let out a long sigh of frustration and buried her head in her hands. She looked up at them, weighing her options before she finally snapped, “Because I’m a lesbian!”

They stared at her blankly.

“Apparently Chrissy was too and that’s why he killed her.”

“You telling me that Jason Carver, all American boy next door was a murderer killing queer kids?” Callahan huffed in disbelief. “There’s no way.”

“And I’m telling you it’s true,” Robin hissed. “Plus whoever saved my life and killed the rat bastard wasn’t Eddie Munson.” She crossed her arms over her chest and settled into the bed, grumpy.

Hopper pinched his nose. “Let’s say we follow this line of inquiry, why do you believe Eddie Munson wasn’t involved at all. You keep saying you never saw your rescuer’s face.”

She looked up at him like he was stupid. “Because the guy that took the bat to Jason’s head was wearing a short sleeve shirt.”

The cops all looked at each other in confusion.

Robin threw her arms up in the air. “No tattoos, assholes! Eddie very famously has bats on his...” she looked at her own arms for a second, “right forearm. And whoever this Jesus with a bat was, he didn’t have any tattoos on his arm.”

“Robin!” her mother admonished. Melissa Buckley was there to ensure that the police didn’t try and twist Robin’s words into saying something that wasn’t true.

Robin just shrugged, unrepentant. They were being assholes and someone should tell them to their faces.

“Well, shit!” Powell snapped, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. “If it wasn’t Eddie then who the fuck was it?”

Just then the door to Robin’s room burst open, startling all those inside. Officer Glenn Daniels came running up to Chief Hopper, a large envelope in his hands.

“Florence got this this morning,” Daniels said, panting for breath. “And we wanted to verify its authenticity before bringing it to you. So me and couple of the other officers looked into it.”

Hopper opened the envelope, his eyes growing wider the more and more he looked through it. “And how much it of is accurate?”

“All of it.”

“There is no way,” Hopper growled, slamming the envelope on Powell’s chest. “No evidence is that air tight. There must be some kind mistake or error in there somewhere.”

Powell took the envelope and looked down into it. His eyebrows shot up. “There are actual fucking writings by Carver in here. Where the hell did they find those?”

Daniels just shook his head. “Whoever found this shit was meticulous. There are no other fingerprints than Jason’s on anything. But there is a letter.”

Powell went searching through the envelope and pulled it out, handing it to the Chief, who read it, mumbling to himself.

“Well, as much as I would like to say the bastard is wrong,” Hopper said with a resigned sigh. “He’s not. Or she or whatever. They’re not wrong. The victims wouldn’t have gotten justice, not with them being queer. Jason would have been lauded a hero and paraded in the streets for taking out the trash.”

“‘To the police,” Powell read out loud. “I am sending you all the evidence you failed to collect when you were too busy trying to pin these murders on an innocent man. It didn’t take a lot to realize the true connection the victims had. I’m just sorry I was too late to save Molly Masters. She didn’t deserve to die in that horrible way.

“Once I figured out who it was, I knew that there would be no justice for these kids. Not when Jason Carver was who he was, and why he was killing his peers. So I quietly compiled all the evidence I could. His journals. His distinct lack of alibis for any of the murders. His emotional connection to the first victim, his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham.

“I’m just glad I was able to stop him from killing that final girl. But if she did die later, I hope Carver rots in the hell of his own making. No one deserves to die because of who they love.

“-Jason’s Executioner.”

“Well, that ain’t creepy as shit,” Callahan said sarcastically. “Well it’s not as though we could have used any of this evidence anyway.”

“And when is Eddie Munson being released?” Melissa huffed, pulling herself up to her nearly six feet of height.

Hopper blinked at her for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand the question, ma���am.”

“That boy is innocent!” Melissa said sternly. “And what? You’re going to just sweep this all under the rug and leave Jason Carver’s reputation intact?”

“That’s not what I said,” Hopper replied, low and dangerous. “And I don’t appreciate you putting words into my mouth.”

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

“He is innocent of the murders, yes,” he said, “but he still sold an underaged girl ketamine. And last time I checked that was still very much against the law.”

“I don’t believe you actually have proof of that,” Melissa said with a winning smile.

“He confessed,” Powell said in confusion. “We have it on record of him confessing to selling the drugs.” He put his hands on his hips. “There’s no way he’s not going away for the drugs.”

“Under duress,” Melissa said smugly. “Which any lawyer worth his salt will get tossed out in a heartbeat. You have nothing on the boy and you know it.”

Robin grinned up at her. “Isn’t she so cool? And she’s my mom!”

“Stop calling him a boy!” Callahan hissed. “He’s twenty! He knew full well what he was doing and I’m not going to stand here and let you pretend otherwise.”

Melissa scoffed, eyeing him up and down with a raised eyebrow. “I’d call your dog to heel there, Chief, we wouldn’t want me to scream police intimidation, now would we?”

“Don’t make me arrest you, Mel,” Hopper growled. “Again.”

Melissa grinned up at the chief. They had been on very opposite sides of the Vietnam War. Him having been in the army and her having been in the protests against the War. Hawks and Doves.

“And just what would be the charge this time, Chief?” she asked with a wink.

Hopper squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them slowly. He let out a long exasperated sigh. “Eddie Munson will be released without charges by the end of today.”

But before his underlings could protest he held up his hands. “It’s either release him and sweep under the rug that some rank amateur or we don’t release him and Melissa here goes to the press about how we put away an innocent man and get the national media up in our business.”

They stared at him for a moment before they grumbling agreed. Hopper bid the Buckleys goodbye and then led his officers out the room.

So how did Eddie know all this? He talked to Hopper, Daniels and the Buckleys and while some details varied they pretty much confirmed that how it went down and how Eddie got out on a ‘technicality’ as the cops were calling it.

When he stepped out into the fresh air outside of the jail with Wayne waiting for him, he took a deep breath and let it go.

“I don’t know how you can stand living in this hell hole,” he groused as he hopped into Wayne’s truck.

“Can’t afford to leave,” Wayne huffed and started the truck. “If I could scrape up the money to get out of here, I would and I’d take you with me.”

Eddie gave his uncle’s shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe I’ll be able to get a job and get enough money for both of us out.”

“If wishes were horses,” Wayne said ruefully as he pulled out into traffic. “I’m just glad you were released without charges.”

“You and me both, old man,” Eddie huffed. “I was sure I was going to be Reading, Pennsylvania, Short Line and B&O railroaded.”

“Good thing Melissa Buckley was there when they interrogated her daughter,” Wayne growled. “Or you might still be sitting in that cell.”

“I hope you sent her flowers,” Eddie said. “She certainly deserves it.”

“Delilahs and some of my grandma’s shortbread,” Wayne confirmed. “I even offered to help out any handwork they may need in the future too. And if I were you I’d offer your way around an engine too.”

Eddie saluted. “Aye, Aye!”

Wayne snorted. “If the way she tells it is true, some rookie wannabe detective is the one that provided the most damning evidence against that Carver kid.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Eddie said with a snort. “These backwater cops wouldn’t know their ass from their elbow.”

“Still it makes you wonder who it was...” Wayne said softly as they turned into the trailer park.

“It certainly does that,” Eddie agreed. “It certainly does that.”

~

I am ridiculously pleased with the railroad joke. It still makes me smile every time.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[ghostxrose]

𝑫𝒊𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Part One |

Summary ~ The news of you getting killed in action hurt Katsuki far worse than any villain ever could, than any villain ever has, and he’s died before. But when the details, or lack thereof, of your death reach Katsuki’s ears, there’s too many things that don’t add up. So, while avidly ignoring the concerned words of his friends telling him to grieve and try to move on, Katsuki starts his own investigation into your “death.” Where exactly this path will lead him, he isn’t sure, but he’s hoping it’s back to you.

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Reader, canon-typical violence, character death (kinda🤭), undercover work, angst, eventual fluff, slight themes of body/image/identity dysmorphia/derealization, shady HPSC tingz, more tags to come as the story develops..

Note ~ Hi Lovelies, it's been awhile..😅 Anywho, this is the fic from this teaser that I posted almost two months ago, heh.. Please know that I love and appreciate all of you!! Hope you all enjoy the read! <3 <3 <3

Ps, if the summary sucks, I'm sorryyy. It might be temporary because I kinda hate it, but I didn't want to give away too much🥲

“No one can know, Ms. L/N. Absolutely no contact at any point. Not with your friends. Not with your family. Not with your fiance.” The HPSC Director’s stern tone is almost as hard as the steely look in their eyes.

“I understand, Director-” You firmly assure, forcing confidence and determination to hide the fear lingering beneath.

“I should hope so. Just remember that you signed up for this willingly.” The Director cuts you off with their daunting words, something in their tone sending an unpleasant shiver of fear down your spine…

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

“She’s gone..”

Katsuki can remember those damned words being sputtered by your stupid fiance clear as day. He remembers how he was reluctantly dragged by Kirishima to the apartment you shared with that lame-ass extra on the basis that he needed to discuss something with everyone. “Everyone” meaning the group of people that you had been friends with since UA. People that extra was only friends with because he was in a relationship with you.

“I said, she’s gone..”

Your dumb ass fiance had repeated in response to Katsuki’s disbelief-ridden question. But he still hadn’t quite understood what your fiance had meant. Where had you gone? On a mission? On a vacation? Did you run away as a means of breaking up with this extra that you had claimed you loved? Katsuki was struggling to understand why so many people around him had dissolved into tears.. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to understand.

“-she’s dead..”

Kirishima had dumped the ice-cold reality of your fiance’s words over Katsuki with a hand on his shoulder and a teary, sympathetic look on his face. Clarity had run through him like an electric shock, and for just a moment, his normal facade had cracked. But the only person who had seen the anguish was Kirishima seconds before Katsuki shoved his best friend’s hand off his shoulder and stormed out of the apartment.

Everything had felt so surreal and suffocating, and he was panting by the time he had burst out of the main doors of the apartment complex. All he wanted was to go home to his own apartment where he could feel his feelings in private, but Kirishima had driven. So, he started walking, staring ahead blankly as the cold winter air bit at the exposed skin of his face and neck. Unfortunately, the cold had done nothing to wake Katsuki from the nightmare he had been so sure he was having.

Since that day, Katsuki has been repeatedly going through the five stages of grief. Every time he thinks he’s finally accepted that you’re gone, that feeling of something being off with this whole situation pulls at the back of his mind and sends him right back to the denial stage. He tried to talk to Kirishima, Midoriya, and Ashido about it, but they just looked at him with such pity and sadness that it made his skin crawl. He still doesn’t understand how everyone else has just accepted that you’re gone. Even your dumb fiance accepted your death without question and has moved on to a new relationship. However, the fact that the extra was able to move on so fast just makes Katsuki wonder even more just why you had ever wasted your time with that loser.

Katsuki’s therapist believes that the reason for his setbacks in the grieving process, along with his feeling of something being off, is due to the regret he feels. Regret for never telling you how he felt about you. Regret for letting you waste your time, effort, and love on some sleazebag who only ever just gave you the bare minimum. But his regret isn’t the source of this feeling sitting like a rock in his gut, at least, not in his opinion.

His suspicions started a few months after your death when he had asked your fiance for the full story behind what had happened to you. The guy told Katsuki that he was contacted by the HPSC, and they told him that you had been killed in action. That was Katsuki’s first red flag. Typically, HPSC officials would go to the home of the next of kin, and deliver the news of their loved one’s passing that way. The fact that they had called your fiance is extremely weird.

The second red flag that had been raised in Katsuki’s mind came after he had asked your fiance if anyone from the HPSC had come by to bring him in to identify your body. Your fiance had given Katsuki a strange look as he shook his head. He told Katsuki that he was only given the address to the funeral home where he had picked up your ashes. It had taken everything in Katsuki to not make a face at your fiance, he was truly astounded that someone could be so blindly trusting. Then again, the majority of the population isn’t aware of the kind of shit that the HPSC pulls in the name of “good”.

The last red flag that caught Katsuki’s attention and pushed him to believe that something was definitely off about your sudden death, he found on his own. He had stayed late at his agency, waited for everyone to leave, and spent the night in his office searching through every reported crime that had been made in the area of your patrol route from the day you supposedly died. The area you had patrolled that day has always been known for being pretty sketchy with the crime rates and villain activity there being pretty high. Even so, you were a very capable hero, it’s one of the reasons why Katsuki admired you so much. He knew that you could have handled yourself in nearly any situation.

When Katsuki had finished reading through the nearly 60 reports made that day of nothing but low-level activity in that area, it was pretty much confirmed in his mind that there was something that the HPSC was hiding. As he had sipped on what was probably his fifth coffee, he couldn’t tell if he was moving further away from or moving closer toward becoming the “string-covered-conspiracy-theory-board” guy.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Sitting at his desk, Katsuki lets out a heavy sigh as he fights the urge to rub his tired eyes because he knows that’ll just irritate them further. Finishing up his written patrol report, he pushes it off to the side, mentally assuring himself that he’ll file it away properly later. He slides his keyboard closer to himself and hits the space bar to wake his computer, then types in his password when prompted. One hand shifts over to the mouse, and he opens the database program. He goes through the process of uploading a clear photo of your face, then hits the button. It’s not long before he’s zoning out while staring at the rapidly changing faces in the small window next to your photo.

He’s done this every day since his doubts about you being dead surfaced. He’s never gotten a single hit, but he can’t stop running the program. He can’t stop any of his efforts to find you because just the thought of giving up and accepting that you’re gone makes his chest feel so tight that he can’t breathe. He doesn’t care how long it’s been or how long it’ll take, you’re out there and he will find you.

Even if it has been two years.

Two. Fucking. Years.

It’s been two years since you died. Two years since your (ex)fiance held a private “Celebration of Life” for close friends and family. Two years since the HPSC announced your death to all of Japan. Two years since a public vigil was held so that the country could come together to honor your memory.

Two years since everybody so easily ate up a ridiculous lie without question.. everybody except Katsuki.

“Pretty sure your therapist suggested that you stop doing this, man..” Kaminari’s voice coming from right next to him forces Katsuki back into reality.

“Fuck off, Dunce. You don’t know shit about what my therapist says.” Katsuki growls out, shoving Kaminari away from him and into Kirishima.

“I overhear what you tell Kiri sometimes..” Kaminari admits under his breath before realizing that maybe he shouldn’t have if the death glare on Katsuki’s face is anything to go by.

Once he feels that Kaminari is properly shaken, Katsuki lets the matter go, for now, with a heavy sigh, “What are you extras even doing here? Go home.” He mutters, giving into the urge to rub his face while leaning forward and bracing his elbows against the desk.

“C’mon man, you know why we’re here.. Go get changed, then we can drive over together,” Kirishima says gently, carefully, like Katsuki is an unwilling child. It pisses Katsuki off for a multitude of reasons. The main one is that there’s a difference between acting petulant about going somewhere and refusing to attend some stupid annual dinner to honor someone who isn’t even dead.

Katsuki’s lip curls as he lets out a sigh of frustration, and he leans back in his desk chair, sending a look to Kirishima, “This shit ended in disaster last year. I don’t know why any of you thought it would be a good idea in the first place to bring a group of grieving people out to their “dead” friend’s favorite izakaya. Why try to make a tradition out of ugly crying and public intoxication? How is that ‘honoring Y/N’s memory’-”

“Jesus, dude.. maybe you would understand it if you just accepted that she’s gone already!” Kaminari snaps uncharacteristically, making Katsuki pause his rant to stare at him in shock as the electric blonde rushes out of the room.

Kirishima let out a tired sigh, watching Kaminari’s retreat before looking back to Katsuki with a not-so-subtle hint of disappointment in his eyes, “Come or don’t come, Katsuki, it’s up to you. Just don’t judge how the rest of us decide to heal.” Kirishima says quietly before walking out of the room.

Katsuki lets out a low growl through gritted teeth as he scrubs a hand over his face. He leans back in his desk chair and glares at the computer screen. Guilt bubbles in his stomach from upsetting his friends, much to his frustration. He doesn’t want to go to that stupid izakaya. He wants to stay here in his office like he does every night continuing his search for any signs of you. He watches the database program sift through faces for a moment longer before cursing softly and standing from his chair.

Tags List ~ @emmaiscool22 @rosy-hollow @ch3rryjampi3 @maddie-rose-1

Divider credit ~ @saradika-graphics

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess – Part 5

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: Chishiya wakes up in the hospital, confused of the sinking feeling inside him when he looks at you.

Warnings: Mention of sexual assault.

A/N: I apologise for the previous part, they'll be okay ♡

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

You were walking with Niragi along the busy Tokyo streets, the sun shining high in the sky.

"What time is he meeting us there?" you asked as Niragi put his phone back into his pocket.

"In an hour," he answered. "Had to stay at work a little late, i guess."

Suddenly, you noticed something bright in the sky. Everyone around you stopped and looked towards the sky, probably having the same thought as you did right now.

"Are those fireworks?" you asked, puzzled.

They didn't look like normal fireworks.

♤♡♧◇

Chishiya was laying on the bed in his hospital gown, tucked under a white blanket, only staring at the wall ahead of him. He had no memory of his own what had happened after the fireworks in the sky, which weren't fireworks at all.

Chishiya looked to his right where a man was laying in his own bed, half of his body covered in bandages.

"So, we both almost died," Chishiya said, glancing back at the other patient. "You feel any different now?"

"I don't know," the man sighed. "I mean, i look a lot worse." He turned his face towards Chishiya now. "What about you?"

"I've been thinking a lot about my life," he admitted. "Choices i had to make. Pretty sure i'm going to start turning my life around. Or something like that."

"You were a piece of shit too, huh?" the man sighed. "You fucked up?"

"I did."

Both fell silent again, falling into their own wordless thoughts.

Chishiya didn't talk about this to the stranger next to him, but he had this weird feeling inside him. He felt somehow... sad? But he didn't know why. He felt like something was missing, like there was a large empty hole inside him which craved to be filled. A piece of him was left somewhere. His heart felt heavy.

He didn't like this feeling, at all – it was suffocating him. The fact that he didn't know the origin of it made it worse.

♤♡♧◇

"Commencing cardiac massage."

"Get the defib ready, now!"

"Right away, doctor!"

"Miss Y/N, can you hear me? Miss Y/N!"

"Clear!"

"Still no pulse!"

"Again! Charge it!"

"Yes, sir! Charge complete!"

"Clear!"

The heart monitor's rapid beeping finally turned into regular beeping.

"We have a pulse!"

"Normal sinus rhythm. Heart rate is holding between 80 and 90."

"She's back. Resume operation."

♤♡♧◇

A doctor stood between the two male patients.

"Where's my sister?" Niragi asked, the tone of his voice more worried compared to him talking to Chishiya earlier.

"Your sister was taken for a surgery," the doctor explained. "For now, her state is stable. She lost a lot of blood, but she should recover."

"Should?" he asked.

"We'll inform you right away when we get updates from her state," the doctor reassured vaguely.

The doctor continued talking with Niragi about things which didn't involve Chishiya at all.

"I think i'll go and walk a little," Chishiya announced, his legs starting to feel a little numb for laying down so long.

Chishiya walked through the corridor with slow steps. He stopped by a room which door was open. Chishiya could directly see a young woman sleeping on the bed, connected to a heart monitor. She looked peaceful.

Chishiya's stomach tightened when he looked at her. He didn't know why but he felt drawn to her. He walked closer to the room, right to the doorstep, but not stepping inside.

The sinking feeling inside Chishiya grew stronger now as he eyed her closer. He had taken couple of steps towards her without even realising it.

"Are you family?" a nurse asked behind him, startling Chishiya.

"Oh, no i don't know her," he denied and took a few steps back not to block the way inside the room.

"Alright." The nurse went inside the room and closed the door behind her.

♤♡♧◇

~ The next day ~

You opened your eyes, slowly trying to comprehend where you were, until you realised you were laying on a hospital bed, attached to a heart monitor.

There was another bed next to yours, a few metres between. It was empty, but someone had been laying on it by the looks of the blanket being thrown aside.

A doctor soon stepped inside.

"Oh, wonderful, you're awake," she smiled, closing the door behind her.

"What happened?" you mumbled, trying to sit up, but the doctor was quick to gently make you lay back down. You felt pain in your abdomen when you were trying to sit up.

"Please, don't get up right now," the doctor said.

You looked at her, confused. One moment you had been outside with Niragi, noticing fireworks in the sky, and the next thing you knew you were resting at a hospital.

The doctor explained shortly about a meteorite hitting Tokyo, ruining a large part of the city. That was the last thing you would have guessed that happened.

"You were taken to a surgery, something had pierced your abdomen quite severely but the doctors managed to fix the damage. Although, your heart had stopped completely for one minute," the doctor explained, serious expression on her face the entire time. "Your shoulder and leg had also taken damage, but they were less severe."

"Oh," you mumbled, not really knowing how to take the news. There were so many new information in too little time.

"But you were incredibly lucky that both of you survived the accident," the doctor smiled.

"Niragi's alright too?" You let out a relieved breath.

"Oh, he will recover as well," the doctor said. "But i was talking about you and your baby."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Baby? What baby?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" the doctor asked, slightly confused. "You're pregnant, on your first trimester. It's still very early though, so i'm not surprised you weren't aware yet."

Your heart started beating a lot faster now, anxiety and panic taking over your body.

"But, but that can't be possible," you chuckled nervously.

"The doctor confirmed it, and the baby's alright. We'll still do an ultrasound when you've recovered a little better."

You felt like crying. You couldn't be pregnant, you hadn't even slept with anyone.

But then, you realised one thing. You had been with one guy, about a month ago or maybe 5 or 6 weeks, you weren't sure how long ago it was, but you had been hooking up with one guy. Both of you had been extremely drunk and you didn't remember much about it. You remembered making out with him, but that was all. You did wake up in his bed but he insisted that you didn't actually sleep together, both of you being too drunk to make wise decisions.

You felt panic rising inside your body. Had he lied to you? Had you slept with him after all? You remembered being so relieved when he told you that you simply had fallen asleep and had done nothing else than making out.

Right then, an older woman appeared to the room.

"Y/N! Oh my dear, you're alright!" she exclaimed, rushing to your side.

"Mom?" you mumbled. "Aren't you supposed to be in Korea?"

"I was but i flew here yesterday when they called me," she said, sitting down on a chair by your bed, and took your hand in hers. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

You scoffed. "Fucking fantastic," you mumbled.

You wanted to ask her if any of your friends or family members died or got injured due to the accident but you weren't in the mood for receiving bad news right now. Well, you would never be, but especially not now when you were just getting used to the situation.

You chatted with your mom for a little while, she had apparently already visited Niragi, saying that he would recover. Soon, your mom's phone rang, and she immediately took it in her hand, glancing at you as she stood up.

"I'm sorry, honey, but i have to take this," she said. "I'll be right back."

You needed to visit Niragi and see by yourself that he was alright. You figured you wouldn't be able to properly walk long distances yet and called a doctor to you.

The doctor didn't want you to leave your bed, insisting you to rest, afraid you'd accidentally rip your stitches. You wouldn't give up, so she gave in and pulled a wheelchair for you to use.

You were about to turn around one corner in the corridor, until someone crashed on you. A young man tripped over you, not paying enough attention on his surroundings. For a few seconds he was bent over your lap, until gained his balance back and stood up.

But as he got up, he pressed his hand on your thigh – directly on the wound which still hurt, stitches still sore and healing.

"I'm really sorry," he apologised. "I didn't mean to crash on you like that."

He was young, probably around your age, with blond hair which he now brushed behind his ear.

You took a deep breath and let out a wince, holding your thigh.

"Oh, it's alright," you mumbled but felt your eyes start to water from the pain on your leg.

His eyes widened. "Did i hurt you?"

"Just a little, but don't worry about it," you said, forcing a slight smile on your face.

"I'm sorry, i should look where i'm going," he stuttered.

"It's okay, really," you assured him.

You fell silent for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes.

"Well, i think i must go now," you said awkwardly and started to continue your way.

"I'm sorry, but," Chishiya started, making you stop and turn to look at him. "Have i met you before?"

"Um, i don't think so," you responded. Chishiya eyed you for a moment with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you sure? You look familiar."

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" you asked, narrowing your eyes. "Because if you claim i've been in your dreams that won't work at all."

Chishiya couldn't help but smile a little. "I wasn't trying to flirt with you, don't worry."

When your eyes locked with each other, you felt something funny in your stomach. He did feel familiar to you but you couldn't reach the answer of where you could possibly know this man from. But for some reason, him only looking at you gave your stomach butterflies.

"Hm," you mumbled. "Well. I'm sure i'd remember if we'd met, so you must mistake me for someone else."

"Alright, then. I didn't mean to bother you," he said and turned away to leave.

"Hey, wait," you said to stop him from leaving – for some reason not wanting him to go away just yet. When he turned around again, you didn't know what to say after all. "You do seem familiar."

"Who's flirting now?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Then, he left, leaving you to look after him for a moment.

♤♡♧◇

You arrived to the room which the doctor had told your brother would be staying in. He was laying there on his back, his body half covered in bandages, half of his face hidden as well. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight a little bit.

"Niragi," you breathed out as you went next to his bed. "Oh god, are you okay?"

"Fucking fantastic," Niragi huffed. "Just lost my chance with half of the women in Tokyo."

"Well, i know many women think scars are kind of hot," you smirked.

Niragi laughed. "You know how to make a guy feel better." He eyed you for a while. "You okay? They told me you were taken in a surgery."

"I'm fine, though covered in several stitches on my stomach. Don't really know if i want to go to the beach anymore wearing bikinis," you said and rolled your eyes.

"You know, some guys think scars are kind of hot too," Niragi grinned.

You fell silent for a moment. Niragi noticed that your mood changed slightly. Normally you would have laughed at his remark.

"What's wrong?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"Nothing, just this, entire accident, whatever," you shrugged.

"That's all, hm? You sure there's nothing else?" Niragi asked. He knew you better than anyone else, almost as if he had learned to read your mind as the two of you had been growing up.

You and Niragi had always been honest to each other about everything. You knew you could tell him anything and he would tell nobody about it. He had always been your comfort in everything, even though it pissed you off sometimes when he was overprotective of you. Still, it was easy to tell him about things you wouldn't dare to talk about to other people – not even your closest friends. And especially not to your mom.

"Well, the doctor did tell me one thing..." you said quietly and avoided eye contact with him.

"Yeah? What?"

"Well, she kind of told me that... that i'm pregnant," you muttered.

Niragi sat up now, a little too fast by the wince he let out, his body still in a little bit of pain, but he ignored that.

"You're pregnant?!" he shouted, a little too loud.

Neither of you had realised that you had gotten company, another patient standing by the door right behind you.

You turned around when Niragi glanced behind you, and you felt your cheeks burn when you saw the same blond man now staring down at the two of you, a carton of orange juice in his hand.

"Sorry, i can leave if you need privacy," he said, already taking a step back when you and Niragi looked at him.

So, he was Niragi's roommate.

"No, that's alright," you said shyly. "I wouldn't want to be in your way of resting and recovering."

"Nah, i think i'll go get some fresh air," the guy said. "I'll let you talk."

He left without another word.

"So, who's the dad?" Niragi scoffed. "You have a secret boyfriend you didn't dare to tell me about?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," you sighed and rolled your eyes.

"Well, who's the guy then?" Niragi asked.

Your eyes started to water. God, you didn't want to start crying in front of Niragi. You turned your face away from him, avoiding eye contact the best you could. Niragi's face fell.

"Don't tell me someone drugged you at a bar or something?" Niragi said loudly.

"Calm down, please," you said quietly, not wanting half of the hospital to hear your supposedly private conversation. "I don't want to deal with this right now."

"Y/N," Niragi gritted his teeth. "Did someone drug you?"

"No," you sighed. "It was just, it was just a hookup."

"Consensual one?" Niragi asked with raised eyebrows.

Niragi always got extremely angry if anyone hurt you, he'd become absolutely furious. If you were able to name the exact guy who hurt you, Niragi would immediately get up and go after him, fists ready for a deadly fight – even if he was laying on a hospital bed all wounded. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

His hands travelled around your body up and down, until they reached your pants. He was just about to slide his hand in your pants and underwear, but you grabbed his wrist gently and made him stop.

"Um, i don't think it's a good idea after all," you said. "I'm too drunk right now."

"Come on," he whispered and moved his hand on your cheek. "I'll be good for you, okay? I'll make you feel good."

"No, i think we should stop," you mumbled, feeling really dizzy and sure that you'd pass out soon.

He looked into your eyes for a moment until he sighed and got up.

"Alright, we'll stop then."

After that, you didn't remember anything until you woke up on that same spot the next day, him sleeping right next to you in his underwear.

"Did we... do anything?" you asked in slight panic.

"No, don't worry, nothing happened."

You started to regret telling him about this right here and now and not waiting until you'd get back home. But you couldn't get it out of your mind, you couldn't.

"Let's just get back home first, okay?" you pleaded, voice trembling a little bit.

You tried to change the subject.

"Um, do you know who that guy was?" you asked.

"That blond dude?" Niragi asked. "Nah, never seen him before. Was in the same accident." He was silent for a moment. "You know, he said his heart stopped for one minute. So did mine. Weird, huh?"

You furrowed your brows. "Isn't that a little too strange coincidence?"

"I wouldn't overthink it," Niragi said, trying to brush it off.

You wouldn't be sure if you'd be able to just forget that and not start overthinking, but you needed to just focus on recovering and getting to go back home.

But then, thinking about your home, you realised something.

"Oh no," you mumbled.

"What?"

"My apartment," you started. "It wasn't far from where we were walking. Surely the meteorite has ruined it. Yours too."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Niragi cursed and hit the mattress under him. "I had just gotten a new TV. You know how much it fucking cost?"

"Where are we going to stay now?" you asked in slight panic. You didn't want to go stay with your mom or dad, you wouldn't be able to go through that. When you had moved out, you had been more relieved than ever before – you'd never permanently go back anymore. Your friends didn't have any spare rooms for you either.

"We'll figure it out," Niragi muttered. "I have a friend who could help us out."

♤♡♧◇

While Chishiya went outside to get fresh air, like he had told you and Niragi, your face was stuck in his mind.

Where did he know you? He didn't know you, but why did you seem so familiar? Did you resemble someone he knew? Even your voice sounded familiar.

Seeing you get hurt, by his hand, made him worried for you. More worried than what was normal to him.

But why?

♤♡♧◇

Tags:

@audiiix

@valexqpt

@spencersoneball

@queenofviolenceandnerds

@moonchild323232

@lizxoxeth

@crazzzyyyy

[marithempressz]

Pick a Card - March 2025

I hope you can enjoy this reading :)) If you're interested I make personal readings and also energetic work. Choose the pile that your eyes and intuition calls the most and don't forget that's a general reading.

Deck used: Rider-Waite Tarot

Choose your pile!

pile 1

pile 2

pile 3

pile 1 

Judgement. End of the deck: Ace of Wands.

It’s time, wake up! There’s a collective waiting for those messages, I feel that good news is expected to show up. The Judgement is a card which portrays the dead arising. If you were bed rotting or something like that, waiting for a miracle, expecting for things to taste less bitter than it is right now, then March is giving you a chance to feel better.

This pile must be for the light workers. I don’t know if you’ve been feeling a bit depressed for those past two months, but 2025 beginning was not so gentle with us in general. For all humanity, actually. This is an important year for expanding our spiritual side, so those feelings are quite normal when things are getting to change. This “change” we are talking about is a big one. For the same amount of darkness we’re going through right now there’s the opposite nature, light, waiting for us.

For today, we’re having the New Moon in Pisces. It's important for us to make a ritual for the following year. We’re ending cycles and giving perspective for new ones, the portal is open so you can put your magic on it. For March, we’ll have Venus retrograde in Aries. That's why The Judgement is here so you can make good decisions related to your own worth, the way you see abundance in your life, your relationships and how much your passionate side is connected to your life. I recommend you to go and see what area of your life Aries is placed in, so you can understand more clearly what’s gonna happen. There’s more work ahead for us light workers, but I have a good feeling about it. Not just because this will build something for us in the future, but there’s also a favorable energy with this Ace of Wands, you’ll probably feel more energetic, optimistic with the work you’re doing and passionate. Wish you a great and magic month!

Pile 2

Knight of Wands. End of the deck: The Fool.

We’re getting closer to Aries season, there’s some movement here, just like pile 1. Maybe the movements are mostly in your head? I feel a bit of a headache, are you taking care of yourself properly? I also felt like there’s too much work involved, maybe you’re giving too much of your energy to work, maybe you’re an Aries or other fire sign. Usually those natives can be workaholics, pay attention to what your body is telling you. There’s a lot of tension here, a feeling that you can’t move a lot, a big pressure over your body.

I don’t know if this is a present feeling or if this is a future situation, but with The Fool, I feel like it’s time for you to be a bit more “irresponsible”, to free yourself from this prison. By irresponsible I mean that this is the perfect time for you to give zero fucks about what’s society’s expectations related to work. Not just society, but maybe an authority figure from your life that you might think you should please or something.

Get some rest, it’s time for you to break free, make decisions that are in alignment with yourself, with your limits. Know your limits, don’t let anyone use your ignorance about yourself for their own purpose. Your life is more than working. Wish you a relaxing and rebellious month! 

Pile 3 

The Emperor, Two of Cups. 

I shuffled and those cards fell out, so I won’t look at the end of the deck. So, when first looking at The Emperor I felt a bit of disgust and also a feeling on my stomach, like fear. It wasn’t a good feeling, I felt my guts cold. Maybe there’s a masculine presence in your life that evokes those feelings in you? And this is probably something related to the masculine in general in your personal life. I feel like this is someone specific here, because of the Two of Cups, maybe you’re or were involved with this person. They don’t have to be a man, but they carry a more intimidating energy, like they have some sort of power here, maybe over you.

Whatever this situation is, March is giving you a chance for you to choose again. Choose what’s best for you, this person or this type of person is not what’s good for you. The Emperor here is not only talking about this person but also showing what aspects are willing to be used in you, they exist in you. This power this person seems to have over you it’s actually the power in you that’s being misused, so you could start using it by deciding what you want in your life. It’s cliché, but you’re the emperor of your own life. Wish you an empowering month!

[hereghostslive]

WIP Wednesday

I haven't done one of these in a while and it's because I told myself I wouldn't until I had completed a fic but no surprise, I've grown impatient with my slow as fuck writing pace. so here's what I've been working on.

started writing this on my own birthday because I was feeling sad and depressed and wanted to cheer myself up by writing angsty Tommy and then cheer him up as well. here's everything I have for it. not sure when I'll finish it.

--

He’s staring at the dark screen of his television when his phone goes off for the fourth time? Fifth time? He lost count after the first few, not interested in answering but too tired to move to turn his phone off. 

Besides, he already knows what the messages say. 

Happy birthday, Tommy! 

Or

happy b day man

Or

Wow the big 4-0, got your AARP card yet?

And probably a

Happy birthday from Diner 54. Get 30% off your meal today!

Okay, that one he should actually open and make use of. The others, well … he doesn’t want to look and see the one message that isn’t there.

He has the day off, which is unusual for him. Normally, he works on his birthday, on account of him not really caring about this day at all. But he had taken this one off because —

“— you have to celebrate turning 40, Tommy, c’mon! It’s a milestone birthday!” 

“You just want an excuse to have your own day off,” Tommy had replied, fondly rolling his eyes.

“Well, yeah, sure, but specifically to celebrate you,” Evan had said, like it was simple. 

So Tommy had asked for it off but they never got around to making any plans for it. The day on the calendar sat free and inviting without his notice until suddenly he found himself waking up alone on his 40th birthday, with no plans and no one to have them with. 

He thought about watching his favorite rom-coms to pass the time today but nothing seemed appealing. Hard to watch and invest in the romantic lives of fictional characters where everything works out and the hurt is only temporary and never proceeds past the end credits. 

Tommy wonders when his rom-com started becoming less rom-com-y and more … rom-tragedy? If that’s not a genre then Tommy’s earned the right to patent. He sinks back into his couch, his phone still going off, and keeps staring at his dark television screen. Remembers back to three weeks shy of their six month anniversary when Evan showed up at his door with his favorite take out and a pack of lightbulbs Tommy had mentioned off hand that he needed replacing. 

He remembers gazing up at Evan as he stood on top of the ladder, the light flipping on, wholly fixed. And with the light shining behind his head, Evan looked down at him with an easy smile. 

Yeah, that was the moment. 

Roll credits. 

–

There’s a banging in the distance. Tommy’s eyes flutter open; he’s slumped over on his couch, still facing the blank TV screen.

“Tommy! Open up!”

Tommy groans, pushing himself off the couch and stumbling to his front door if only to stop the incessant knocking.

He flings the door open to find Howie, fist raised to continue disturbing Tommy’s neighbors and most importantly Tommy.

“What?” he grumbles.

“Now is that anyway to greet your old friend?” Howie asks, shoving his way past Tommy into the house. Tommy’s still waking up from his accidental nap on the couch, too slow to stop Howie from intruding further. 

He closes the front door and reluctantly follows Howie into the kitchen.

Howie opens his fridge and whistles. “Just as I suspected,” he says, and then closes the fridge, spinning around to face Tommy.  

Tommy, still waking up, can only raise a single eyebrow in question.

“Your fridge is empty. How are we going to celebrate your birthday with nothing to eat or drink?” 

Rolling his eyes, Tommy collapses onto the bar stool at his kitchen island. “Oh, is that why you’re here?”

“Why wouldn't I be here? It isn't every day your friend turns 40!” 

Tommy eyes Howie, searching for an ulterior motive. He wants to ask about Evan, if Howie is here on Evan’s behalf, but he doesn't. Doesn't think he could handle a “no,” and anyway, he lost the right to ask about Evan when he walked out of his life. 

Eventually, Tommy nods at Howie, agreeing to at least hear him out about dinner. “Okay, so … what are we eating? There's a good Thai place not far from here we can get take out from.”

But Howie’s shaking his head. “Oh, no, no. It's not that easy. Get up, get dressed. We’re going out.”

--

tagging some bucktommy mutuals: @liminalmemories21 @leashybebes @beanarie @alrightbuckaroo

[lostintheuniverseslies]

🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠

😂😂😂 This is a purely self-indulgent fic but I hope you like this little portion!

A weight settled on the bed at some point in the night. Buck instinctively thought it was Tommy, finally back from his night out, but the quiet psst wasn’t a sound Tommy ever made, and the whispered, "Buck," made him realize it was Eddie.

"What?" he asked groggily, trying to shake off sleep but struggling to fully wake up.

"Can I sleep in here with you until Tommy comes home?"

Buck frowned, forcing his eyes open. Eddie stood by the bed, his face shadowed by the dim glow of the nightlight but still unmistakably worried.

"Huh?"

"Chris isn’t here," Eddie said, low and vulnerable.

And Buck understood.

Eddie must have woken up intending to check on Christopher, only to remember he wasn’t there. His usual way of settling himself—making sure his son was safe—wasn’t an option.

Buck couldn’t imagine what that must feel like, but if Eddie needed comfort, Buck wasn’t about to deny him. He shifted over, making space. "Fine. I’ll even let you have my spot. But you’ll have to move when Tommy gets back. He’s weirdly territorial over his side of the bed."

Eddie huffed something that might have been a laugh as he slid under the covers.

"Thanks, Buck," he murmured.

Buck barely managed a sleepy hum before slipping back into sleep.

. . .

The house was quiet when Tommy stepped inside, the kind of stillness that came with the late hours of the night. He toed off his shoes by the door, smiling at the neatly lined-up pairs. He wondered what it would look like when Christopher came back. Despite not knowing the kid as long as Evan had, he missed him—and he knew Eddie did too, even if he tried to act like he was fine.

Tommy saw the moments Eddie thought no one was looking.

Rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness from one beer too many and the late hour, Tommy sighed. He couldn’t wait to curl up in bed next to Evan and hold him close. Since moving in together, it had become his favorite part of the day.

The soft glow of the plug-in lights guided him through the house—Evan’s idea, because Eddie will stub his delicate little toes in the night if we don’t, Evan had insisted. Tommy laughed at the time, but now, it made him smile.

Pushing open the bedroom door, he came to an abrupt halt.

Evan left one of the nightlights on, a small courtesy so Tommy wouldn’t have to navigate the room blind. Normally, it made his heart warm. Right now, he was grateful for it—because if he hadn’t been able to see, he might have been very confused by the fact that his boyfriend was not the only one in bed.

For a second, Tommy simply blinked.

Eddie, curled up under the covers next to Evan, was unexpected. But it didn’t feel wrong. If anything, something warm settled low in Tommy’s chest at the sight.

Eddie was on Evan's side, his back to Tommy, but even in the dim light, Tommy could make out the way they were unconsciously clinging to each other—Evan's arm draped over Eddie’s waist, fingers loosely curled into the hem of his shirt. And Eddie, for all his usual insistence that he wasn’t that into physical touch, was leaning into it, like his body had sought out Evan’s warmth even in sleep.

Tommy understood that. He did it himself, often.

He should probably have questions about this development.

But he didn’t. Not really.

Instead, he moved quietly, stripping off his jeans and henley in favor of the shorts Evan left out for him. Then, he slipped onto the bed behind his boyfriend, mirroring the way he was curled into Eddie. Sliding an arm around Evan’s waist, he pressed his chest to his back, letting his forehead rest between his shoulder blades.

The warmth of them, the quiet rise and fall of their breathing, settled something in him.

He could figure out the why in the morning.

Right now, all that mattered was that Eddie was here, Evan was warm in his arms, and this—whatever it was��felt right.

make me write

[ableedingpromise]

I'm using a blow dry brush and it's actually working!?!??!!?!?!?!?

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[gwydionae]

I get using no specific iteration of the TMNT in a crossover and just making yet another new version. After all, the franchise has had many, many different versions at this point, so it's easy to accept that this is simply one more to add to the pile.

But Naruto has... one. Just the one. So when all of a sudden characters are written/shown to have expertise that they shouldn't have at the age they're being depicted, it just ends up feeling weird.

I get that fitting things into the Naruto timeline can be a chore. Do it too early, and Sakura is kinda useless. Do it too late, and Sasuke's off murdering people. And if you try to set it after the series, the power levels are seriously gonna be out of whack.

But breaking the only canon that has ever existed for these characters makes them feel like... not the same characters. I might be the only one who cares about this, but it really took me out of the story, to the point where I couldn't help but focus on it. I don't want to be distracted from page one of a silly ninja crossover comic.

[bmpmp3]

HIMETCHI i have her in my pix rn. she likes cereal and gummies

[vimbry-moved]

saw a really fun show tonight! got home took pee and became an ex-member of the never passed out club

[mite75]

Guys I dont think 7 hours of sleep is actually the right amount for me.

[the-faultofdaedalus]

“steve’s real fucked up after the ice” fic but it’s nothing to do with the ice, he just did Actually Die but was in relatively decent condition so SHIELD just tahiti’d him and now he’s fucked up from that

[senselessalchemist]

carpal tunnel syndrome + writing on phone = I'm going to tear my left hand off if it keeps falling asleep