#watched this movie a few days ago ....(◕ ^ ◕)

[pillow-anime-talk]

k-pop idol.

synopsis: Short headcanons from your first meetings in various locations. Each of the Saja Boys has one thing in common – they all crush on you at first sight.

# tags: headcanons; idol x idol or idol x normal person; first meetings; human!sajas; fluff; a bit of comedy; also a little of angst; some thoughts; kinda simp!sajas; rather sfw

includes: female reader ft. jinu, baby, abby, mystery, romance {kpdh}

author’s note: ehhhh. i just fall in love with kpdh movie and that’s why i came up with the idea to write a few things about sajas... huge comeback on tumblr, besties!

— MYSTERY

↘ You first met on one of those silly but popular variety shows where music groups are invited to compete. The format involved a girl group and a boy group facing off in different challenges, while also talking, exchanging tips, and cooperating to win a prize.

↘ Since the past few weeks had been especially good for you and your group — with great reach and lots of awards — you were invited to appear alongside Saja Boys, a rising boy band that had been gaining attention recently.

↘ During the show, together with the rest of VIVIX — Kara, Sojin, Ruby, and Seungi — you were paired up with one of the singers. In your case, it was Mystery, the enigmatic vocalist. One of the hosts instructed each pair to act out a randomly drawn scene from a popular drama or anime. You two were given a moment from Lovesick Ellie, where the characters meet in a library and one places a finger over the other's lips. The scene had to be performed while leaning against a wall.

↘ You weren’t really the type to enjoy that kind of fanservice, and Mystery also looked like someone who wasn’t too fond of fake intimacy. A bit concerned, you glanced at your newly assigned partner and smiled softly — and he returned the gesture just as gently.

↘ “Will this be okay for you?” he asked, and your face lit up. It was genuinely sweet of him to check in on how you felt. You nodded, and together you first watched the original Japanese film scene, then acted it out as best as you could. It came out quite naturally and sincerely. Your cheeks flushed slightly. The singer gave a small cough, trying to silence the loud cheers from his groupmates.

↘ “She’s kind of sweet.” He thought as the scene ended. For the rest of the show, you exchanged small smiles — both quietly hoping this wouldn’t be the last time you saw each other.

— BABY

↘ Contrary to what one might expect, your meeting was actually pretty normal — at least by K-pop idol standards.

↘ You met before a performance on a music show. You were sitting in the hallway, waiting for your turn. As a solo artist who had debuted three years ago, you were now at the peak of your career. Your next album was scheduled for release soon, and it was going to showcase a slightly different style — bolder, fiercer, with a more distinct sound. But you were still missing the final piece to complete it: the last song. You always wanted your albums to have exactly ten tracks, and at the moment your mind was blank. You spent every spare moment trying to come up with something.

↘ That day, Saja Boys were also set to perform — right after you. You didn’t know much about them, but you appreciated the fact that they were trying hard and wrote their own lyrics.

↘ Tapping lightly on the back of the couch, you jotted down another line — only to immediately cross it out, shaking your head in frustration. Suddenly, you felt a soft tap on your shoulder; gentle, almost shy.

↘ “Nice to meet you, I’m Baby from Saja Boys.” He bowed slightly, and you nodded in return. “I noticed you’re having a bit of trouble. Is there anything I can do to help?” His tone wasn’t pushy — he actually sounded concerned. You thanked him and explained your struggle. There was a note of uncertainty in your voice, but also a deep sense of dedication. The young man listened to you attentively. Eventually, he spoke: “Your concept is amazing. If I could suggest something… maybe cut the second bridge, and instead stretch out the final chorus. As for the last verse — maybe try something like this…”

↘ In the next few minutes, the two of you finished the song together — and it sounded genuinely good. Still, something gnawed at you. You felt guilty for having leaned so heavily on his ideas. You bowed to your new colleague, then asked:

↘ “Would you like to record this track with me?”

↘ Baby’s eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat.

— JINU

↘ That day, you had the afternoon shift at the café — from 12 to 8 pm. Thankfully, it was Wednesday, so it was a slow day. You had time to sit behind the counter and go over your notes for the upcoming university exams. Around 6 pm, five men walked into the café. They wore caps, sunglasses, and loose-fitting clothes. They sat at a table inside and started quietly discussing the menu. After a couple of minutes, you decided to walk over to them.

↘ “Hi, I’m Y/N. Welcome to Caffee Heaven. Can I take your order or recommend something for you?” You smiled genuinely and looked at each of the men seated at the table. You immediately recognized them as currently popular singers, but you had a personal rule you always followed: if an idol is outside of a performance space — don’t bother them. It’s their private time.

↘ Three of them placed their orders right away: a strawberry matcha latte with honey, a double espresso, and a soy milk cappuccino. The remaining two — Jinu and Romance — seemed to be having trouble choosing a drink.

↘ “Sorry for the trouble, we’re not really into coffee…” Admitted the one with darker hair. You quickly reassured them it was no problem and offered alternative options: teas, hot chocolate, shakes, and mulled drinks. In the end, the group’s leader settled on jasmine tea with a splash of blackberry juice, while the other idol asked for a strawberry milkshake with vanilla marshmallows. After taking their orders, you assured them you’d be right back with the drinks and returned to the counter to prepare everything.

↘ Out of the corner of your ear, you could hear the other four teasing the black-haired male, saying he might have just fallen in love. You couldn’t deny it — you kind of liked him too.

— ROMANCE

↘ You were a member of HUNTR/X. Although the girls — especially Rumi and Mira — had a rather negative attitude toward Saja Boys due to their sudden rise in popularity, you and Zoey genuinely liked their music. As it happened, one day you had a joint fan meeting in a huge shopping mall in Gangnam, and you were seated between Romance and Mira.

↘ You greeted him warmly, to which he only responded with a shy smile. He had to admit to himself that it was the first time he felt uncertain around a woman — usually, he was the romantic one, confident when speaking with the opposite sex. But this time... He felt totally different.

↘ You were signing another card with your autograph, chatting briefly with a fan about her backpack covered in keychains. During that time, Romance was watching you closely. He carefully observed your joyful face, sparkling eyes, bright smile, hairstyle, outfit, and even your neatly painted nails. He also appreciated the attention you gave to your choice of jewelry and lip color. He could swear your lips looked like a juicy peach with splash of honey…

↘ “Romance...? Romance? Romance!” The leader sitting next to the singer nudged him with his shoulder, and he finally snapped out of his trance, looking at him in big surprise. “If you like her that much, then ask her out or talk to her after the event…” He whispered, then rolled his eyes, and Romance’s cheeks turned as red as a ripe tomato. He glanced at you from the side as you were signing another fan’s souvenir, then sighed.

↘ Maybe he really should say something to you?

— ABBY

↘ You had been working at a gym in the city center for over a year. It was usually busy, and as a personal trainer, you always had plenty to do. You mainly focused on women’s aerobics and modern dance, but you also had three regular clients who came twice a week to work with you on the machines.

↘ That day, you had a session scheduled with Jiu. She was supposed to arrive any minute, and you were finishing up your usual check around the gym — making sure no one had left anything behind and that the equipment was clean and functioning. You laid out two mats in the designated space, then sat on an exercise ball, slowly spinning to loosen up your muscles.

↘ At the same time, two men entered the gym: the first was Abby, who had decided to work out privately to clear his mind from all the dance and vocal rehearsals. The second man looked to be in his 30s, had large muscles and longer hair tied up in a messy bun. While the first one immediately went to use a machine, the second started looking around until his eyes landed on you. With a sly smile and a casual stride, he approached you.

↘ “Hey, are you here alone?” You looked up and met his gaze. You told him you were waiting for a client, but asked if he needed help with something. He just laughed. “Nah, but I could help you — you could bounce on me instead of that ball.”

↘ You stood up almost immediately and told him to leave the gym. He grabbed your wrist and smiled again, making more inappropriate suggestions. Worried, you were about to call one of your co-workers — but one of the gym’s clients was faster.

↘ “Are you going to leave nicely, or should I carry you out?” A deep voice echoed through the room, sending a chill down your spine. The creep instantly let go of your wrist and stormed off, offended, while you looked up.

↘ “T-Thank you. Is there… anything I can do to repay you?” You asked hesitantly. Your sweet face made Abby smile warmly, feeling a slight flutter in his chest. He shook his head gently, but after a second, he replied:

↘ “You don’t have to repay me. But instead, maybe we could grab a coffee after our sessions...?” He said, and you agreed.

[heich0e]

"You've never seen it?"

In spite of your incredulous tone, it's not actually that hard for you to believe that Sakura has never seen the movie currently advertised on the screen of your television—the promotional still splashed across the surface, waiting for you to either hit play or navigate onward to the next option in the seemingly endless (though often lacklustre) selection of media available for your ready consumption.

Sakura Haruka has not seen most movies, you've found out since the two of you started dating. Nor the shows you've asked about, but that's sort of par for the course. And forget about music or—heaven forbid—a podcast.

Sakura shakes his head a little, tipping his beer back towards his lips. He's not much of a drinker (that's another thing you've learned about him) and he's been nursing that one drink since you finished eating dinner and curled up in your living room to watch a movie a few hours ago. "I've heard the guys mention it."

"It's a classic," you remark, reaching for the remote. "We've gotta watch it."

Your eyes flicker to the screen of your cellphone, left largely abandoned on the coffee table, as it lights up with a notification. You don't care much about the text message, but the time does draw your attention.

"Aw," you say sadly, more to yourself than anything. "It's getting kinda late."

Sakura glances at the time too. "Oh, shit. Yeah. I should probably go."

"I really wanna watch that movie."

You trail along behind Sakura as he rises to his feet from his seat on the living room floor and makes his way to your kitchen.

"The trains are gonna stop running soon." He carefully pours the last few mouthfuls of beer into your sink and then rinses out the can.

"You could stay over?"

You watch as pink diffuses along the back of your boyfriend's neck, staining even the tips of his ears in the pretty hue as his shoulders go a bit rigid.

"I gotta work early. So do you," he grunts out, a bit gruffly, shaking off the momentary stiffness in his frame. "'S not a good idea."

Sakura had been adamant when he came over for dinner that he couldn't spend the night, because the two of you are notorious for getting very little rest on the nights he sleeps over, and you both have important workdays ahead of you. He'd been firm, but not unkind, when he made this condition clear to you at the outset of the evening.

You pout a bit as he tucks his beer bottle into the recycling and then dutifully ties up the bag. "I'll toss this on my way out," he says, glancing over at where you're watching him from the doorway. He sees the pout on your lips and groans. "... That's not fair."

"What's not fair?" you ask, looking away as you feign ignorance.

"You—we—t-the plan was that..." Sakura ruffles the hair at the back of his neck as he stumbles through his argument. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a little breath. "We can just watch it next time, right?"

You catch the inside of your cheek between your teeth, holding it there to stifle the smile you feel threatening to overtake you at how cute Sakura looks like this: blushy and a little awkward, his hair sticking up at the back, holding a bag of trash he's offering to take out for you in your kitchen.

"Okay," you concede, but not without an exaggerated sigh. He opens his eyes, and looks a bit relieved at your relent. "When's your next day off?"

"Day after tomorrow," Sakura answers, heading towards your door. You follow along behind him again, standing within arm's reach as he pulls on his shoes in the genkan.

"You should come over tomorrow night, then," you reply.

"Thought you were working late?" Sakura asks, casting a fleeting glance up at you while he ties the laces of his sneaker.

You hum, you'd forgotten about that. You light up a moment later, reaching past Sakura towards the key rack just inside your front door. "Here!"

Sakura watches with wide eyes as you pluck the spare key you keep in case of emergencies and hand it to him.

"You should probably have this anyway," you tell him as you pry the little silver key off the novelty keychain it's affixed to. It only makes sense, Sakura's a regular fixture at your place these days—he ought to be able to come and go as he pleases. "You don't have to stick it through the mail slot when you leave either. Just keep it."

Sakura is frozen, bent at the waist, with his shoelaces in his hands.

"K-kee-k-kee-ke-keep it?"

Oh, his face is the most adorable shade of red you've ever seen.

"You want me to,"—Sakura stands almost unnaturally upright, his shoe still left untied, his eyes wide—"keep this?"

You laugh lightly, hiding it in the sleeve of your oversized sweatshirt. "Well, yeah. You can just come and let yourself in when you get off work tomorrow, and I'll see you when I get home."

He hasn't moved a muscle.

"Maybe I could grab us dinner on my way?" You remark, pointedly ignoring your boyfriend's petrified state. "What do you think about—"

Sakura is suddenly rifling though his various pockets with an urgency unbefitting of the stillness of your entryway. His pants, his hoodie, finally his jacket—still hanging on the coat rack at your side. Eventually he finds what he's looking for and he turns to face you, holding his keys in his hand.

"You take this one," he says, strangely ardent, but he barely meets your gaze as he says it. He puts his entire key ring into your hands with his head bowing down, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing.

"Haru," you barely manage to get the words out, "this is your key. How will you let yourself in once you get home?"

Sakura looks up, slightly shocked, as though this is the first time it's occurred to him. The blush on his face only intensifies.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I guess you're right..." he mutters, obviously sheepish.

You step towards him, pressing the keys back into his own hand and letting your touch linger there.

"Why don't you make me a copy after work tomorrow, and give it to me when I get home, hm?" you ask him, close enough now to press your body into his and lean into his warmth. You watch as he swallows, and then dutifully nods, his eyes trained on your face all the while.

Exchanging keys is a big step in any relationship, but a huge one for you and Haruka. Everything with him feels like a milestone, because you know that these sorts of things don't come naturally to him—aren't familiar to him. You celebrate these moments whenever you can, because you know how much they mean.

Sakura seems to hesitate for a moment, then he dips down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You can feel the heat of his cheeks when he's this close to you. Can almost hear how quickly his pulse is pounding.

You smile against his lips, reaching up to cup his burning cheek in your hand.

The touch seems to finally break him, and before you can even gain your bearings Haruka has you pressed against the wall of your entryway, kissing you breathless.

You can taste the beer he'd barely finished on his lips. Can feel the way his hands shake when he touches you.

"Haruka," you murmur against his eager mouth, pulling away slightly and brushing your nose against his. "What about the train?"

He pants against your lips, the breath hot as it breaks against the sheen of saliva that coats them. He makes a broken little sound, and his grip on your hips tightens.

He inches forward again, and you almost miss it when he whispers—"can I stay over?"

[scxrletivy]

Like in the 40s

Description: you and Bucky are good friends; he has told you a lot about his life in the 40s, but you're curious about what dating was like back then. So you go on a date, which has an unexpected ending. Or: two idiots in love who only need a little push.

The story is set after Civil War; the Avengers are all a big family and there's no Thanos (sue me, I needed to comfort myself).

Author's note: sooo... this is my first attempt at writing here. I've always loved writing but in the last years I stopped because I felt like I had completely lost my inspiration. Then I saw Thunderbolts, fell in love again with Bucky and here I am! Just so you know, English is not my first language, so forgive me for possible mistakes.

Word count: 2.7k.

This story is my original work and I do not give permission for anyone to copy, share or repost it anywhere without my explicit consent.

“So, how was dating in the 40s?”

You were lounging on the couch in Bucky’s room, reading a book. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon at the Tower. You and Bucky hadn’t been called up with the team for a recon mission in Eastern Europe; the last job you had been assigned had been difficult, so Tony had decided that it was better to let you stay put. Normally you would’ve complained, but you had seen how shaken Bucky was after the last mission and you were more than happy to stay and keep him company.

You had felt an inexplicable bond with him ever since you had seen him for the first time in Bucharest all those years ago; it had been a long and bumpy road: you had been through some truly hard times, but it had all led you there.

It was clear Bucky liked your company as well; it had been difficult for him to become part of the group: he felt like he did not deserve to get a second chance, he always felt like he needed to make amends. Even after Tony had officially forgiven him for what had happened, repeating at least a thousand times that he was not responsible for his parents’ death, you knew Bucky still felt like he did not belong. You had talked about it with Steve oftentimes; you two were the closest with Bucky and did everything in you power to help him feel as at ease as possible. It was clear that Bucky was comfortable with you; you could spend hours together, strolling around the city, watching movies, simply being silent.

Or reading, like that day. You were laying on his couch, while he was sitting on the floor with his head on the cushion. For the longest time you had tried to convince him to stop sitting on the floor; then, you had realised that it was something he needed sometimes. You had even tried to sit beside him, but he categorically refused to let you lay on the floor.

That afternoon, you had been reading for a few hours. But you were starting to feel bored. So, you had closed the book and put it down on your stomach. Then you had asked Bucky the question.

He was confused for a moment.

“What?”

“How was dating in the 40s?” you repeated, turning on your side. “I’m curious, you know… you’ve told me so much about your life back then, but that’s a topic we’ve never talked about and, to be honest, I’m really curious.”

Bucky put down the book and turned around as well, to look you in the eyes. He chuckled.

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve been on a thousand dates, you know…” for a moment he seemed to lose himself in the memories. “I went on a few dates, but then I was shipped off to war and… you know the rest…”

You put a comforting hand on his shoulder. You felt bad all of a sudden, the last thing you wanted was to bring him back to darker times. He had opened up with you about many of the awful things he had lived through and you had spent many nights holding him while he told you about what he remembered from the 70 years of torture, fighting back tears but feeling something break inside at the thought of him going through all that. Still, you were aware of the fact that there were things he had not shared – and probably never would – and never pushed him to talk or asked him directly. You were more than happy to listen if he needed to talk. You were about to open your mouth to tell him you didn’t mean to upset him, but he preceded you.

He got up and gently moved you to sit on the couch; then he let you get comfortable near him.

“I remember this one girl I went on a few dates with, Dolores. I saved all the money I had to take her out and blew three bucks just to try to win her a stuffed bear. When I got home I didn’t have the guts to tell my parents I had spent all the money I had,” he let out a soft laugh. “I can tell you it was quite different compared to today. I don’t have much experience about how things are nowadays, if I’m being honest, but I’ve heard things here and there and let me assure you, things have really changed. Now everyone is more relaxed, back then even holding hands was a big deal. I almost got in trouble more times than I can count.”

He was fully laughing by that point.

“Oh, I can imagine you. James Buchanan Barnes, you big flirt!”

“Don’t make fun of me, doll, I had moves”

“Oh, I believe you”

You were silent for a second, then you took the courage to ask a question that had been nagging you for quite a while.

“Do you ever think about trying dating again?”

He sighed and began tracing circles on your shoulder.

“Sometimes I think about it, but I mean… you know how it is with our lives, we’re not really normal people with ordinary lives. Plus, all my baggage. It’s not like I can begin a date by saying ‘Hi, I’m Bucky, I’m a 106-year-old ex-assassin, do you like pizza?’… Besides, I don’t know if I’d be good at all the modern stuff. Peter told me about something called situationships and I’ll tell you, doll, my heart almost fell out of my chest”

You laughed. You could perfectly imagine the shocked expression on Bucky’s face. You could not begin to imagine how disorienting and confusing it could be for him to discover all the new aspects of modern life and you deeply admired how much Bucky pushed himself and put himself out there to try new things; it was hard for him, but he was brave.

The words got out of your mouth before you knew it.

“We could go on a date. We could do everything like back then, like you used to do in the 40s”, you straightened to look him in the eyes.

He was silent for a moment, and you felt suddenly nervous, realising what you had just proposed to him.

“I mean, we don’t have to… it’s just, I want to do something nice for you, to make you feel good. I know you miss the old times and it might be cute, like time-travel”, you said shyly.

Bucky delicately took your hand.

“I think that’s a great idea, sweetheart. Tomorrow night, 6 p.m. sharp. I’ll take care of everything.”

You checked the time on your phone for the umpteenth time. 5.56 p.m.

Bucky told you he was going to pick you up at you room’s door, like a gentleman; you had spent the last two hours deciding what to wear, how to do your make up, how to fix your hair… you kept repeating to yourself that it didn’t matter, it wasn’t an official date, it was only a ‘fake’ date with your best friend Buck. But your heart was hammering in your chest. Because – if you were truly being honest with yourself – then no, it was not only a fake date with a friend. Bucky wasn’t just a friend. You had realised the depth of your feelings for him when you had been fighting Thanos, in Wakanda; Bucky had been hit and you swore you felt your heart stop for a second. It was a sudden realisation: you loved him, he had slowly but steadily become a fundamental part of you and you couldn’t lose him. In the aftermath of the fight, you had considered telling him; but you knew you were an important person for him – an important friend – and you had decided to suppress your feelings. Bucky needed your support as a friend. Two years had passed and you were still harbouring an unrequited crush for the Brooklyn boy.

In that moment, you deeply regretted suggesting the date. Who in their right mind would suggest a romantic date with the guy they loved, who didn’t love them back. It was assured heartbreak: you were going to experience how it would’ve felt to be Bucky’s girlfriend, only to go back to being his friend afterwards. You’d probably be devastated; you’d go back to her room, watch a romcom and cry yourself to sleep.

You were brought back to reality by three knocks on her door; you took a deep breath and opened it, to reveal an image that almost knocked the wind out of you. Bucky was standing in front of you, wearing a deep blue Henley and jeans that fit him snugly. And, in his hands, he was carrying a bouquet of light-pink peonies. Your favourite flowers. He had remembered.

He was the first to talk.

“Hi doll, you look beautiful”

“Thanks Buck, you look really handsome too,” you answered, blushing.

He looked at her straight in the eyes and smiled. Then he handed her the bouquet.

“These are for you, sweetheart”

You took them and delicately inhaled the perfume.

“Thank you Bucky, you didn’t need to”

“Nonsense, doll. You wanted the full 40s experience… well, there you have it”

You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “Let me find a vase and then we can go”, you said.

The restaurant Bucky had chosen was not too distant from the Tower, so you decided to walk and enjoy the late spring breeze. The sun was setting, casting beautiful shades of orange, yellow and red.

The conversation was flowing, as it always did between you two: talking with Bucky was easy, as easy as breathing. You were having a heated discussion about the last movie you had watched together when, all of a sudden, Bucky took your hand in his. You were startled: sure, you guys were close, but you knew that physical affection was still a sensitive topic for him. You were willing to take every little piece of himself he gave you, but you were never going to force him to do anything, so each little gesture meant the world to you. You turned your head to look at him, wondering if he was feeling as panicky as you, but he was completely calm; he gave you a little smile and kept talking.

After a few minutes of walking and talking, you reached the restaurant; it was a cosy place, with little candle-lit rooms and a nice atmosphere. Bucky was the perfect gentleman, opening the door for you, then helping you with the chair and asking your opinion regarding the foods on the menu so you could share.

“The pasta seems good, but I also kinda want to try the risotto” you commented, biting your lip.

“You’ll get the pasta and I’ll get the risotto, and then we can share” replied Bucky with a stunning smile.

You smiled. It was shaping up to be a great night.

By the time the first dishes arrived, you had already drunk a glass of wine and it had definitely helped ease the nerves you were feeling before. You felt stupid for having been worried: at the end of the day, you were spending time with your best friend; you were willing to accept to be Bucky’s friend and nothing more if it meant having him in your life.

“Mmmh, it’s incredible”, you uttered when you tried the pasta. You closed your eyes for a second to savour the feeling and when you opened them again, Bucky was looking at you with a strange look in his eyes.

“The risotto is just as good. Here, try it” he said, scooping up some of the pasta with the fork and offering to him.

However, instead of taking the utensil from you, he took the bite of food directly from the fork. You flushed a deep red.

“I thought it was supposed to be a date like one in the 40s”, you said with a teasing smile, “but I’m pretty sure this is way too forward”

“Like you said, doll, I was a charmer. It was the 40s, but I still knew how to properly seduce a dame” he chuckled.

He was looking at you like he wanted to eat you up; you felt naked under his eyes and even hopeful, for a second, that maybe you were not imagining things, that maybe you weren’t the only one who wanted something more out of your relationship. You shook the thought as soon as it came. You couldn’t dare to hope. The heartbreak would be too devastating.

“Oh, I’m sure you were a Casanova… we’ve all heard Steve’s stories about the ladies falling at your feet” you deflected.

“You know, Steve exaggerates sometimes… I wasn’t that big of a flirt, all things considered”

“Sargeant Barnes, lying is bad, you know?”

“Are you by any chance suggesting that I’m a liar? You wound me, doll. You know I’m a man of honour”

He took your hand and began rubbing circles on your wrist. You felt electric, like a current was flowing through your veins lighting up all of your nerves.

Yeah, he was trying to kill you.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur, between bites of shared food and flirty comments from Bucky. Instead of ordering dessert, he suggested to take a walk and get ice cream; he was the perfect gentleman, helping you with the chair, paying for dinner and immediately taking your hand once you got out of the restaurant. He let you try his ice cream and offered you his jacket when you began shivering in the cool air of the night.

When you arrived in front of the Tower, you felt a deep sense of panic set in your bones; the entire elevator ride, you couldn’t help but playing with your hands anxiously. You had had a great time with Bucky and you couldn’t help but imagining how it would’ve felt to be his girlfriend and be able to go on dates with him all the time; you knew you shouldn’t have thought about your friend in such a way, but it was impossible for you to stop wondering how it would’ve felt to kiss him, feel his lips on yours and cuddle up against him.

You were shaken from your thoughts when the elevator chimed; you had reached you floor.

Bucky let you get out first; ever the perfect gentleman, he led you to your room. When you reached your door, you slowly opened it and turned to look at him. He was so handsome, with his hair slicked back and the playful gleam in his eyes.

You were ready to thank him for the perfect night, close the door, change into a comfortable pajama and wallow in self-pity, when Bucky took your hand and spoke.

“Doll…” he looked at you straight in the eyes. His gaze held an intensity you had rarely witnessed and you felt your stomach do a flip.

“I really hope I’m not reading this whole situation wrong because I would hate to lose you. But I can’t be silent anymore,” he took your other hand as well and brought it to his chest “you are the best part of my day. Sharing coffee with you, reading together, doing nothing… every single moment together feels like a gift from life, a privilege I never thought I deserved anymore. You make me feel like I can finally stop fighting and running from myself, my past and my demons.”

He got closer and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“I think you feel the same and I’m quite sure I’m not mistaken. So, doll, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to kiss you�� and maybe take you out on another date.”

You were completely stunned; you felt you had lost the ability to speak and you didn’t even trust yourself to be able to form a coherent thought. So, you did the only reasonable thing. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him. He was shook at first, clearly not expecting you to take the lead, but he immediately returned the kiss.

It wasn’t fireworks and bombs going off. It was a calm, quiet feeling of peace.

When you broke the kiss, Bucky put his forehead on yours and closed his eyes. You finally spoke.

“I know I asked for a date like in the forties, but you know… I wouldn’t be opposed to you coming into my room and kissing me some more…”

He let out a soft laugh. Maybe things had change a little bit compared to the Forties but hell, he definitely wasn't complaining.

[1968bullittmustang]

Really?! Shit, I guess I never realized it was his last. No wonder I loved it so much.

My brother was the real hardcore fan, though. He was a lot younger at 6 when it was released, and when it finally came on HBO, he watched it every day until he could recite the entire thing. We actually had to ban it at the dinner table for a while because it was all he would talk about. XD

I just rewatched it a few months ago and wasn't surprised in the least that it still holds up as a fun and entertaining movie!

people who learned about greek mythology due reasons that DONT involve having read percy jackson at 12 freak me out, like what the FUCK was going on in your life that you found out that zeus turned into a pigeon to woo his wife like HOW

[opiumwings]

prank'd — uchinaga aeri

uchinaga aeri x female reader – you tell aeri that she left something at your place – 905 words

“aeri, you left this at my place,” you said, handing her the tank top you bought earlier for this prank.

“oh, thanks.” aeri took it without looking, still half-distracted by her phone. but after a second, she glanced down and frowned at it.

“wait… babe, this isn’t mine,” she looked up. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, just as confused.

“i’ve never seen this before. must be one of your other hoes,” she joked.

“shit… is this ning’s?” you muttered, pretending to panic, just loud enough for her to hear.

aeri froze, slowly lifting her head. “what?”

“nothing, never mind,” you said quickly, reaching out to take it back, but her grip didn’t budge.

“why would ning’s stuff be at your place?” she asked, brow raised.

“she was just over a few days ago,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“for what?” aeri asked flatly.

“we were just hanging out.”

“she didn’t tell me anything,” aeri said, now fully focused on you.

“it wasn’t a big deal,” you said, shrugging.

“i didn’t even know you two were close.”

“it’s recent,” you said.

“so… she’s just casually hanging out at my girlfriend’s place now?”

“we’re all friends, aeri.”

“hmm.” her expression didn’t change, but her silence was loud.

“you good?”

“i’m fine,” aeri said. “totally chill. just didn’t know i had competition from my own best friend.”

“there’s no competition. you literally win,” you said.

“i better. because if i find out ning's been playing house with you—”

“we’d never do that to you,” you said quickly, trying to sound reassuring.

“so now you and ning are a ‘we’ now when i’ve barely even seen you two interact.” aeri gave you a long look. 

“i mean—no! not like that. i just meant… i don’t know why i said ‘we.’ slipped out.”

“uh-huh,” aeri said slowly, crossing her arms. “and what exactly did you and ning do when she was over?”

“just… watched a movie,” you scratched the back of your neck

“what movie?”

“that new one with the—uh—dinosaurs. you know the one.”

“that’s real specific,” she said, expression flat. “sounds intense. did she sit on your lap during it too?”

“okay now you’re just being dramatic,” you laughed nervously.

“you’re being sus. like, weirdly guilty, which is crazy cause you said you did nothing wrong,” aeri crossed her arms.

“i’m not guilty of anything,” you said way too fast.

“she was wearing new earrings the other day,” aeri mumbled to herself. “you didn’t get her earrings, did you?”

“why would i do that?” you asked a little too defensively.

“oh my god, did you?”

“no!” you blurted, but you were barely keeping it together. you had to cover your mouth to hide the smile threatening to break out.

“are you fucking smiling right now?” aeri squinted at you. 

“i—no, that’s just—my face.”

“don’t lie to me,” aeri said, stepping closer with narrowed eyes.

“i’m not! why would i smile about something like that?” you said, voice shaky.

“because you’re a bad liar.”

“i’m actually a very convincing liar, thank you,” you said proudly, then immediately winced. “wait—i mean, not like… in relationships.”

“oh wow,” aeri said, blinking. “that really helped your case.”

“look, i didn’t get her earrings, okay?” you shifted awkwardly.

“then where’d she get them?”

“i don’t know! maybe she bought them herself?” you offered, trying to make this all sound as unconvincing as possible.

“she said she was ‘surprised’ when they showed up,” aeri added.

“maybe she forgot she ordered them.”

“or maybe her secret admirer sent them.”

“why do you assume it’s me? i’m literally dating you,” you said.

“i’ve been questioning that same thing,” she muttered, then turned to look at the tank top still in her hand. “apparently, i can’t trust my girlfriend or my friends.”

“okay, well…” you reached for it again, “let’s just forget this ever happened, yeah?”

“you’re way too eager to erase the evidence. now i have to investigate,” she pulled it back quickly. 

“babe, come on,” you said. “do you really think i’d cheat on you?”

she tilted her head, staring. “no… but you would pull some dumb prank on me.”

“you really think i’d do that to you?”

“i know you would,” aeri crossed her arms.

you opened your mouth to respond, but you couldn’t hold it back any longer and burst out laughing.

“i fucking knew it!” aeri shouted, smacking your shoulder. “you little rat.”

“you’re so dramatic!” you chuckled, grabbing her arm as she tried to walk away from you.

“dramatic?! you had me thinking ning was leaving stuff at your house and you were buying her stuff!”

“okay, but you have to admit that your jealous face was kind of cute,” you said.

“you know what else is cute? revenge,” aeri turned to you with a glare. 

“i’ve actually never thought that,” you said.

“oh really? you sure about that?”

“positive,” you grinned, starting to feel just a little nervous. 

“oh no, baby. you started this,” aeri said sweetly, poking your chest. “now you’re gonna live with the consequences of your actions.”

“i just think we need to approach this situation with love and forgiveness,” you offered with an innocent smile.

“love? yes. forgiveness? fuck no,” aeri leaned in, smiling just as sweetly. 

and with that, she kissed your cheek, turned on her heel, and walked away, leaving you standing there.

“…worth it,” you mumbled, already thinking about your next prank.

[brandwhorestarscream]

Jazzprowl

What is it? Break up? Hurt in the battle field? Trauma?

Jazz and Prowl about to spend a romantic weekend as newlyweds :)

...

"This will be yours for the time being," the other mech presses the keycard into Jazz's servo. "Call button for the front desk is the big blue one on the console, can't miss it. Let us know if you need anything, alright? Kitchen and bath are stocked, and here is your stipend for activities."

He takes it and thanks the other mech: short and sweet with the gentlest, kindest aura. No wonder he worked here, he was perfect for it. First Aid gives him a warm smile and goes on his way, waving goodbye. Jazz wonders how he can be so unflappable. Maybe he just has a really good poker face. "...So," he turns around to face Prowl. "Wanna go break it in?"

He doesn't say anything, just nods. He looks... nervous? No, that's not right. Prowl doesn't get nervous. Nauseous, maybe?

Jazz tries to smile, and approaches him. Prowl draws away from him, subtly, fingers curling in his lap and doorwings becoming tense. They tremble slightly as he comes near. "S'it... alright if I touch you?"

Finally, Prowl looks up at him. His expression is exhausted and open and very, very surprised. "I-! Y-You may."

Jazz leans over the chair, lifting Prowl’s arms up and around his neck. He feels lighter than Jazz remembers. Much lighter. He wraps his arms around Prowl's back and lifts, helping him out of the wheelchair. "Jazz-!" Prowl yelps. "Wh-What are you-?!"

"Well, I figure, this's gonna be our married home for the next few days," with great care, he slides one arm behind Prowl’s knees, the other carefully at his shoulders. With a soft push and a lift, the Praxian is cradled in his arms as if they've just become conjunx endura. He looks embarrassed, and stunned, optics wide and face visibly discolored. "I gotta carry you inside, ya dig?”

Prowl looks speechless, stammering and unable to get a proper word out. Jazz laughs, and sweeps them away inside. It's a nice, cozy little apartment, with a loveseat perfect for snuggling before an entertainment center, a kitchen with a bar island, and a berth for rwo connected to a washracks. There's a tub, a big one, with bubble bath and scented oil already waiting for them. A perfect place to spend a romantic weekend as newlyweds.

The ring on his finger feels like it's burning him.

"Here, Prowler, easy..." as carefully as he can, he gently sets his partner on the loveseat, then hurries back to the hallway to fetch his wheelchair. Barely half a year ago, Prowl was one of the most athletically capable people he knew. Now, his legs couldn't support his own weight. He could barely lift his arms. Primus was so cruel to invent a disease like this.

Jazz settles onto the seat beside him, and hesitates only a moment before wrapping an arm around him. Prowl stiffens, but leans against him after a moment. Awkwardly at first, then places his helm down on Jazz's shoulder.

The silence is killing him.

"You wanna watch a movie?"

Prowl shakes his helm.

"You wanna play cards?"

Another shake. Ok...

"How about some grub? I'll cook for ya-"

Again, he shakes his helm in denial. Jazz swallows. Ok, time to kick it up a notch.

"...hey," he leans over and drops his helm onto Prowl’s. "Wouldja... lemme play you somethin'?"

"Would you?" Prowl sounds so hopeful, it makes his spark ache. "Would you really?"

"O' course! I'd do anything for you, Prowl."

"Then... yes. Yes, please."

First Aid is more than happy to help them move the piano from the main room to their apartment. None of the other residents complain. It's part of Prowl's wish, after all. Jazz offers to let him sit on the bench next to him, but he declines. Says he'd rather listen from the loveseat, and denies having any requests. "Anything you want to play, Jazz. I'll be content with anything.”

Prowl was a perfect audience for the piano, honestly. He sits there quietly, with his optics closed and servos folded, listening serenely. Jazz knows this piece and a thousand others by reflex and by spark: he can play and watch him at the same time. For the first time since telling Jazz about the diagnosis, Prowl has a smile on his face. It's a small one, faint, and so very Prowl. Getting Prowl to smile was always an uphill battle, and Jazz was one of the only people who could consistently get him to crack. As far as he knew, he was the only one that could consistently get Prowl to laugh.

Primus almighty, he really is an idiot, isn't he?

"Jazz?" Prowl's optics open. "Is something wrong?"

"Ack-!” Slag! He had stopped playing! So much for his multitasking. “No, nah, s-sorry, s'all good!" he shakes himself out, cracks his knuckles, and immediately glides his digits over the keys. He's gotta focus! These next few days are important, some of the most important of his life! He's gotta make them count, he can't let himself get distracted!

He throws himself back into the song, and forces his helm down. Focusing on every note, pouring every ounce of his concentration into those keys and pouring out the sad, beautiful song. The lyrics that went along with this score were bittersweet, one's most precious treasure lost but still so loved even in death. The tone was so low and sorrowful, slow and unhurried as each note waxed poetic it's author's anguish.

He used to love to play this song.

When he plays the last note, he hesitates before looking back to Prowl. He still looks peaceful, though his smiling face fades back into his porcelain mask when he opens his optics.

"Jazz?"

He swallows. "Y- Yeah?"

"I've always loved listening to you play." he declares it so earnestly. Like he's been holding that fact close to his spark for vorns and vorns.

Jazz's throat suddenly feels tight. His optics burn. Oh, no. No no no, not now, not right now! He absolutely cannot let the waterworks turn on right now! He can cry later, this is about Prowl!

"Hey!" He jumps up, sending the piano bench skidding back. He'll have to apologize for scuffing the floor. "I'm parched! Gonna grab a drink, ya want one?"

Prowl looks thoughtful for a moment. "...warm tea, if you would?"

"I'm all over it!" He salutes and practically runs for the kitchen.

As soon as he's out of sight, he's retracting his visor and grinding the heels of both palms into his optics. The pressure helps chase the tears back, and he takes several deep, heaving breaths to steady himself. He can do this. He will do this. It's for Prowl! He just has to remember that this is for Prowl, and if he breaks down blubbering it'll ruin the experience for him. They don't get any do-overs, and are already on borrowed time. He can't mess this up for Prowl. He'd never forgive himself if he did.

While the tea brews, Prowl is silent in the other room. Jazz wonders, for what must be the thousandth time, what's going on inside his head. He was always so... controlled. Everything from the way he walked to the way he wrote his glyphs even down to the way he ate his energon, everything about Prowl was carefully controlled. Jazz had thought himself a pretty good reader of Prowl's cues and moods and the like, but, with recent developments...

Maybe, Prowl had said something, in his own way. Maybe Jazz had just missed out on it. Maybe he really had intended to keep it a secret forever. Jazz didn't know what to believe. If it was that serious and the depth was so unfathomable to the point of him literally-

The kettle dings and dispenses the steaming pink drink into the quaint mug he'd pulled from the cupboard. He adds the syrup he knows Prowl likes, and is good for sore throats. Snags himself a chilled bottle from the icebox, does a little hop from foot to foot to hype himself up, and waltzes back in.

"Here go! Crystabloom tea with hydrohoney, just the way ya like it."

Prowl smiles freely, though it's weak as it attempts to lift the corners of his mouth. Still, his optics narrow slightly in that way that Jazz knows means that he's genuinely happy. When he reaches to take the teacup, his fingers tremble. They're so thin, Jazz drops his closed bottle and gently takes the other mech's wrist to steady him.

"I think they'd ban me if I let ya scald yourself," he snickers. "Got it?"

Prowl’s staring directly into the cup, and Jazz can't see his expression. "I do."

Jazz carefully settles down beside him, watching him carefully, delicately, sip his hot drink.

"...anything else you need?"

Prowl shakes his helm quietly. "No. I have everything I need."

"Is there anything you want?"

Slowly, Prowl's helm turns toward him. His face looks distinctly miserable. "I have everything I want and can have, Jazz."

"But-"

"Don't. Please, don't.”

Jazz draws his servo back. When did he raise it? And more importantly, when did he start being hesitant to touch Prowl? He was his best friend, it shouldn't be weird to touch him. It never was before.

"I... I'm sor-"

Suddenly, Prowl doubles over coughing. The fit seems to come out of nowhere, and it's vicious. They come up from deep in his chassis and are so forceful they rattle his whole body. They just keep coming and coming and coming, barreling out of him violently and not giving him a moment to rest. "Woah, hey-!" His optics are streaming, barely managing to put his cup on the lounge table before cupping both servos over his mouth. He coughs and coughs til he's bent over, chassis touching his thighs as he struggles to stop.

Jazz rubs his back, then pats at it firmly to try and help the fit along... but he's still going strong a full klik later, and he gets up to mash the call button.

Staff rush over in record time, one of them easily transforming the loveseat. The back collapses and the front raises, turning it into a vertical place to lay. First Aid grabs Prowl by the shoulders and carefully eases him onto his back. "Raise your arms, decompress your- good, good."

"Little poke." Ambulon warns as he primes a syringe of relaxant medication and slides it smoothly into the sick mech's neck. He empties the blue fluid, and while he's disposing of the needle, First Aid closes the wound with a dollop of instant liquid sealant.

Prowl gasps and wheezes as he lies there, whole body heaving. He looks so frail. His paint is flaking around the joints. His optics are bleached out, and his plating looks thin. Brittle.

Suddenly, his optics bulge and he rolls over with Ambulon's help, helm going straight into the bin First Aid is holding. He hacks and coughs again, then retches, and there's the unmistakable sound of something solid and heavy hitting the bottom of the trashcan. He all but collapses, going limp, gasping for breath.

"Got any more in there?" First Aid gently wipes his mouth clean of oral lubricant and blood.

Prowl nods, face pinched in misery. He pants thrice more, then starts coughing again. All Jazz can do is stand in the background, audials ringing in panic, and helplessly watch.

It takes nearly 10 kliks for him to stabilize. He looks like hell, honestly, optics sunken and face sagging in exhaustion. The doctors move him into the berthroom, mostly because it has a call button on the safety rail and he needs to lie flat for awhile to avoid agitating his systems any further.

The apartment door closes, and Jazz still hasn't moved from his spot. He's been rooted to the floor since. Primus. He knew it was bad, but...

His spark feels cold and heavy in his chassis. As does his fuel tank. As does everything.

Primus, what has he done?

It's hard to move his legs. He feels disconnected from his body. His knees are stiff. They don't want to bend. His first few steps shuffle awkwardly, and make a horrible grating noise on the floor. Slag, slag, he's probably scraping it-

"...Jazz...?"

His helm snaps up. "Y- Yeah-?!" Prowl's voice is a bare whisper. He sounds so strained. So tired, like just opening his mouth is a herculean task. That gets him moving, though his spark still feels like a highly pressurized ball of anxiety and loathing. "Comin', I- I'm comin'-!"

Prowl’s been tucked in snugly, the blanket pulled up to his chin. Only his helm is visible, shoulders and arms hidden away. His jaw trembles slightly, and Jazz knows his mouth has gotta be aching and sore. "Wh-What's up? Need somethin'?"

Prowl swallows, and takes a shallow, trembling invent. "Would you..." he pauses to gather his energy. His optics flicker. "B-Bring my tea?"

"Right! Yeah! R-Right away!"

He turns around and walks back into the main room. His teacup lay abandoned on the table, several drops spilled from Prowl's prior shaking.

"Um..." Jazz pauses in the doorway. "It, uh. It's  cold," Prowl sighs. "You want me to remake it?"

He shakes his helm ever so slightly. "I'll... d-drink it... cold."

Prowl hated cold tea. He especially hated reheated tea.

"O-Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

More than anything though, Prowl hated wasted tea. He hated wasting anything.

Jazz knew that. Why did he know that? Why did he know everything about Prowl? Because they were best friends.

He thought he did. He thought they were.

In reality... he's a really terrible friend.

He sniffles. Oh no.

Prowl shifts minutely. "Jazz?"

"I'msorry-" he lets out in a rush, raising one arm as his visor retracts to scrub his forearm across his optics. "I'm sorry, j-just gimme a minute, I'm fine-"

He squeezes his optics shut. They burn, and he feels wetness touch his plating. Oh, Primes. He can't stop them.

"I- I'm-" he hiccups, then sniffles harshly. He hates the way his voice cracks. "Gonna step out- just n-need a klik-"

"Jazz-"

"I'm sorry!" And with that, the dam breaks. He sobs, then again, and then they come tumbling out of him like an avalanche. He leans against the doorway as his knees go weak, and the weight of the entire miserable situation at last breaks his resolve. He'd never been good at holding it in when it really came down to it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am! This's ALL MY FAULT!"

If only he had... if he just…!

"I- I can't believe I'm gonna lose you!" He sobs, stumbling over toward Prowl. He collapses into the chair near the bedside, abandoning the cup to the night table. "I- I'm not ready- you're my best friend- how am I supposed to live without you?! How am I s'posed to live with myself knowin' this's all my fault?!"

Prowl doesn't say anything... his servo snakes out from under the covers, though, and reaches out for him. Fingers thin as a stylus and frail as a twig, Jazz grabs onto it with wild abandon. Clutching it in both hands and holding it close against his chassis as he curls over it and sobs. The tears just won't stop, fed by encroaching fear and grief for someone that's still there in front of him.

"...you're right." Prowl croaks, and Jazz's helm raises in disbelief.

"Wh-" that was the last thing he expected to hear from Prowl. "What?"

"You're right," Prowl rasps. "This is all your fault."

That does not make the all-encompassing guilt loosen its chokehold.

"It's your fault, for every time you were kind to me. It's your fault... for every time you smiled at me. It's your fault, for playing such beautiful music, and for all the times you brought me sweets, and for always pestering me when I'm working," Prowl smiles, gently, shaking his helm fondly. "It's your fault, for being so funny, and for being the only person able to make me laugh. It's your fault, for that trip we took to Polyhex, and it's your fault for being so nice to everyone you meet. It's your fault for being so honest and hardworking and talented," he laughs a single, incredibly tender laugh. His optics gleam with reverence. "It's your fault, for being you. It's your fault... for the way you're so joyful and passionate, and so positive about life. It's your fault for making me fall in love with you."

Jazz stares at him, gobsmacked, tears still slithering down his cheeks. His face burns.

Prowl coughs again, and his tanks curl. That cough is going to kill him, in just a few short days.

"Prowl, I-"

"Please don't apologize," Prowl shakes his helm. "I have no regrets, Jazz. I didn't speak up because I knew it wasn't reciprocal."

"Still!" He weeps. "You should've said something! I- I'd have taken ya out for dinner! We-" he hiccups. "We- We'd go to that place you like down on the bricks, I'd have brought you flowers, and I..."

"And you wouldn't have fallen in love with me," Prowl finishes. "I know, Jazz. It's ok."

"It's not! How can you say that?! You're gonna die! You should hate me! Aren't you mad at me?!"

"'Mad'?" Prowl repeats it as if the concept is foreign to him. Jazz knows that's not true: Prowl's temper was legendary. "Of course not. Why would I be? You've given me a wonderful experience."

He's lost his mind, surely. What about his terminal diagnosis could ever be wonderful?

"Being in love with you... loving you, has been wonderful. You've given my life such fulfillment, Jazz, and more joy than I ever thought possible. If anything..." he looks shy, almost. "I suppose I should thank you. So... thank you, Jazz. For being my only friend for so many vorns, and thank you... for being the only person I could ever fall in love with.”

...

Prowl’s final wish after officially entering the final stage of his hanahaki 🤭 He asked to live together with the object of his affection, for Jazz to just stay with him and care for him until he dies. Jazz loves him with all his spark, but not like that. Not romantically. It's killing Prowl and the guilt's eating him alive

Prowl dies of an explosive overgrowth 4 days into their stay in their little apartment, the parasitic crystal plant finally shattering his spark casing, flowers bursting from his optics and mouth and every seam.

I hope you enjoyed!

[cobaltperun]

Other Worlds Than These

Zora Bennett x Female Reader

Summary: She'd be fine, she was the most capable woman you've met, she was the Zora Bennett, the best of the best, but these were fucking dinosaurs, and you just couldn't sit back in your apartment waiting to hear if everything went right. Even if you left that life behind many years ago.

Masterlist

Word Count: 4k

-There are monsters in the sky, there are demons in the sea, I have seen them with my eyes-

Early morning sunlight peeked through the windows of your living room, mercilessly and precisely hitting your face as you turned to the side and covered your head with the pillow. You fell asleep watching some movie about a dog getting reincarnated over and over again. “Now that would be awesome, always being reunited with your pet,” you figured before yawning. It was the second day of your vacation and you were already bored. Now, you didn’t want the excitement of your old job back, but maybe a pinch of excitement more wouldn’t hurt.

You thought back to working with Zora and the rest and shook your head. Nah, you’ve had enough excitement for your whole life already. Boring was good. Safe.

Just as you closed your eyes again with the intention to go back to sleep your phone rang and you, as responsible as you were, chose to ignore it. It was too early in the morning for a call. Whoever it was should have gotten their ass out of the ancient times and just sent a text.

The ringing stopped after half a minute and you relaxed, thinking that would be the end of it, but not even a minute later your phone was ringing again. “Son of a bitch,” you turned around and blindly patted the table for your phone, not yet eager to remove the pillow from your face. “Yes?” you answered the phone.

“Shouldn’t you be more excited to hear from your good old friend?” you recognized Bobby’s voice immediately.

You dragged the pillow off your face with a low groan. “Yeah, cause you always call to hang out,” he never has, it was always Duncan pulling you back in to hang out with the group, Bobby called with different jobs he wanted you to take with him.

He snorted at that. “That stings. Anyway, got a job for you,” and there it was again.

“No,” you hung up, but the phone immediately rang again.

“Zora is involved-“ and you hung up again, only for him to call again. “It’s dangerous-“ it always was, so you hung up again, really tempted not to answer when he yet again called you. But if you didn’t answer he’d just keep calling. “Dinosaurs!” you paused before you hung up.

“Excuse me?” you sat up, more surprised than actually interested.

“Some people want blood samples from alive dinosaurs, and they hired Zora,” shit…

You could still say no, pretend he never called you, or that you simply left that line of business behind way too long ago for this to be the job that drags you back in. But the idea of Zora going there and you waiting in your apartment to hear the news of how the job went made you nauseous. “Fine,” you accepted the job, figuring anything was better than that uncertainty.

~X~

You stayed behind in the crowd as Bobby reunited with Zora, Duncan and the employer. It’s been over a year since you’ve last seen her, you talked over the phone when her mother died and she missed her funeral, you helped handle the funeral arrangements as a favor to her, and because you liked her mother, but that was pretty much it. The further apart you were, the better; at least that was something you both agreed with.

You tried for a few years, as a couple, not just coworkers, but things happened.

She didn’t change one bit, she was still just as beautiful as the last time you’ve seen her, confident and elegant in every move she made, with that confident smile on her face, just another thing about her that made everyone look at her and she knew it.

Tentatively you approached the group, prompting Bobby to smirk in that usual, almost annoying way of his. “I brought you a surprise,” he told Zora as he gestured toward you. The smile on her face fell when she saw you, replaced by utter shock as she just stared at you. “You’re not seeing things, Z, though you might want to close your mouth to avoid catching flies,” he teased, striking a balance between mean and good-natured in a way not a lot of people could.

“Really funny, Atwater,” Duncan jokingly smacked his back before approaching you and spreading his arms. “Good to see you, hawk,” the two of you hugged and then he turned to the man who hired Zora. “She has eyes like a hawk, you won’t find a better person to watch your six, while she keeps an eye on everything else,” he explained and the man nodded.

Zora cleared her throat and walked over to you, and for a moment you thought she’d just offer you her hand, respecting the distance the years created between you, but instead, the moment Duncan stepped away from you she hugged you, burying her face in the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

“Hey,” you whispered, hugging her back as if no time passed since you last saw her.

“Hey,” and that was all either of you had to say, all you could even try to say, and all you needed to say. Everything else you understood instinctively, without a single word spoken.

~X~

True to Duncan’s nickname for you, you were sitting on the highest roof of the boat watching for any troubles that the radar might not pick up on. Whether it was other ships, or dinosaurs in this particular case. Duncan knocked the roof from underneath and you reached down, grabbing a bottle of water he was offering you.

“Glad to see you are still making the right calls,” you said as you opened the bottle.

“The water?” he joked with a laugh.

“Sure, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you snickered, taking a deep breath and the scent of the ocean. You actually missed this, sailing, feeling free, you supposed, though you’d prefer not to be in dinosaur infested waters.

“I couldn’t just let them die,” he eventually sighed, and you heard him leaning back against the railing.

“I’d be surprised if you could,” even before the tragedy he was always a big softy underneath the tough demeanor. “Just hope we didn’t put them in even more danger,” you were going straight into danger, and the group of four had a child with them.

“We’ll do our best,” Duncan figured and went back inside.

A few minutes later you saw the mosasaurus swimming toward the boat and grabbed the comms. “Target found us, get ready,” you dropped down from the rooftop as Zora came out with the sniper rifle she’d use to get the sample. The two of you looked at one another and you nodded, following her without a single word as she got in the position. You hooked her to the floor without waiting for her instructions and grabbed onto the railing next to her. “We need to get closer!” you yelled as Duncan took control of the ship and sped up, closing the distance between the ship and the mosasaurus. “Twenty-one meters! Get closer!” you could only hope you’d get lucky, and the dinosaur wouldn’t go underwater. “Loomis, grab a spare shot!”

“Someone’s already thinking about back-up?” Zora teased, speaking to you for the first time since you reunited.

“You used to love that,” you pointed out with a smirk, and she glanced at you just for a moment.

“Not quite ‘used to’,” she playfully rolled her eyes, and you desperately tried to convince yourself your heart was drumming in your chest solely due to adrenaline. Yeah, that had to be it. You were this close to a dinosaur that could sink a small boat like it was nothing.

The boat sped up, closing the distance, but then the creature attacked, slamming into the boat from the side, nearly knocking you off the boat and making Zora miss the first shot. “Shit!” you exclaimed, grabbing onto the railing as the dinosaur went underwater.

Zora made sure you were fine with a quick glance and, satisfied that you were still hanging on, turned toward Loomis. “Get me a second one!” she ordered and he ran toward the two of you, handing the second shot to you as the mosasaurus emerged from the water, hitting the side of the boat and making it lean to the side, just as you managed to load Zora’s rifle.

It repeated the attack, nearly making the ship turn over and throwing Zora off her feet. “Hang on!” you managed to grab her, steading her before she could fall over the railing and just barely hanging on yourself. Zora relaxed in your arms, focusing only on aiming and fired, shooting it as it swam a bit further away from the boat. You watched, your left arm still around Zora’s waist, as the syringe filled up with blood and then got ejected into the air.

“One down,” Zora smiled at you as everyone cheered, and you nodded. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it would be. “Thanks, for catching me,” she stepped away from you and the cold left by her absence must have been something you imagined.

“Of course,” you struggled, your voice a bit hoarse all of a sudden. And so you went back to the roof, avoiding facing what was actually going on, a lot like you did years ago.

~X~

You should have known things were going way too easily; you should have known it wouldn’t be as simple as shooting a couple of dinosaurs and going home. You saw them approaching, your blood running cold. “We’ve got company! Dino is back and it brought company!” you yelled into the comms and went down to grab one of the guns Bobby brought. “These better work,” you muttered, for the second time today realizing that this wasn’t something you should have gotten involved with, that any of you should have gotten involved in. These animals were part of the world long gone, a world a lot more dangerous than the one you were living in, they might as well be forces of nature to you.

Something hit the boat from below just as you were about to take aim, knocking you off your feet and nearly off the roof as well. “Y/N!” you heard Zora yelling your name as you clung on desperately as the boat rocked.

“I’m fine!” you yelled and then heard more screaming and looked down, just in time to see Bobby being dragged into the water by a smaller dinosaur. You tried to shoot, but you kept missing, unable to aim properly in your current position. As it was you doubted the shots were actually effective.

Each second felt like eternity spent in hell, the boat that used to feel like it could take you anywhere now seemed like a fragile toy, pushed from side to side by the animals bent on killing you all. Someone actually looked at these and thought: ‘Nah, it’s boring, give it another pair of legs, or wings,’ you honestly couldn’t wrap your head around that.

“Y/N! You need to get down!” you heard Zora yelling, though not through the comms this time, and so you looked back, seeing her outside as well, holding onto the railing.

You knew that. It was only a matter of time before your grip would loosen and you’d fall off, potentially into the jaws of a dinosaur. How long have you stayed there, on the roof? Barely holding on? Your muscles already burning and aching? You couldn’t tell. It could have been a minute, or much longer. And then a slightly sharper turn Duncan took threw you off and sent you straight into the water.

You hit the water, momentarily getting disoriented before arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the surface. Somehow, even as disoriented as you were, you knew it was Zora, dragging you to the shore while you recovered from the abrupt fall.

The two of you scrambled to the shore, you on your knees as you barely got out of the water, gasping for air as your body trembled from the near-death experience and you felt sick to the stomach, so much so that you thought you’d throw up, but though you gagged and felt like you were about to lose your lunch nothing came out aside from bile. “Fuck!” you grasped the sand under your palms, cursing as you looked at the wrecked boat. You felt hands on your shoulders and abruptly twisted around, almost pushing Zora off you as she steadied you.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she assured you softly, yet urgently, and you focused on her eyes, just like you did so many times before. It wasn’t fine, not this time, but there was no time to lose. You couldn’t stay on the beach.

“Thanks, for jumping in after me,” you managed to say that much and she nodded, just relieved that you were both still alive.

And then it happened.

“Nina!” Duncan screamed and both you and Zora turned to your left, seeing the dinosaur taking Nina into the sea. You stared, frozen for a moment, as another one of your friends got devoured.

As Duncan screamed for his friend, calling out to the person who would never again be able to respond, who you wouldn’t even be able to properly bury because no remains would ever be found, you glanced at Zora. “We made a mistake,” you whispered gravely.

She nodded, accepting that. “But we can’t go back now,” you couldn’t, not yet, you could only hope her back-up plan would work.

And for that plan to work, you’d need to leave the beach. Not that it was safe to begin with. There wasn’t a single place here that was safe.

~X~

You remained on high alert as Zora got the second sample. You felt like a fish out of water, surrounded by tall grass that somehow managed to hide these behemoths. Good eyesight meant nothing when you couldn’t see more than a couple of feet ahead of you and were forced to only look above. And it made you dread every step, every unnecessary break, every moment spent in this tall grass where you might as well be blind.

Not even the sight of dinosaurs in some courting ritual or whatever made you relax even one bit. You wanted to get off this island, you wanted this nightmare that already cost you two of your friends, to end.

Well, at least with the second sample secured, you could now leave the grass beneath you, and go after the third sample. “So… how exactly will we get the sample for the lizard bird?” you asked as you looked up the steep mountain ahead of you.

“We won’t. We’ll get it from an egg,” Loomis explained, and you nodded, hoping this would go smoothly.

You really should have known better than to be optimistic in a situation like this one. Perhaps the heat and the lack of water were getting to you, but, you’d persevere, no matter what, no matter how difficult it gets. That’s who you had to be all those years ago, and that’s who you had to be today. You reached the steep mountain and took a dee breath, steadily starting the climb to the top with Zora by your side.

“What will you do after this?” Zora asked out of blue.

“No idea,” and you really didn’t have any idea. You probably needed a break after everything, an extended one, instead of going back to work. “I know I’m never accepting one of these jobs again, though,” and that felt like the only certainty you knew.

“I’m still surprised you accepted to come here,” she pointed out, and if you weren’t climbing you probably would have shrugged.

“I had a good reason,” and that reason was right next to you, climbing with precise elegance of a woman who’s done this or something similar dozens of times.

Zora took a moment to glance at you, and whatever she wanted to say remained unspoken, left to hang in the air like the two of you didn’t even need other forms of communication. “It’s not your fault. About Bobby and Nina, and about…” she paused, avoiding saying his name and you sighed, aware that you couldn’t have done anything for either Bobby or Nina, but it still felt like you didn’t do enough.

The last time you lost a team member you stopped doing these jobs, you avoided them like plague, but Zora? She buried herself in the work, seeking whatever it was these jobs could offer her, but now it was slowly starting to seem like she wanted to set it all aside, to move away from her job, to have her own life outside of it. “Maybe I should retire after this,” she said, mostly to herself, but you heard it too.

“Maybe,” you agreed tentatively, not daring to hope that Zora would start looking for challenges in safer environments.  

~X~

Frankly, you weren’t sure if you began hallucinating after that conversation with Zora, because everything felt like a fewer dream. Lowering Zora, LeClerk and Loomis went fine, until the big prehistoric bird descended from the skies and despite your best efforts ate LeClerk. Then you managed to get down, reunite with the family that jumped the ship, there was a gun, then a bunch of smaller mutated dinosaurs, and then a big, mutated dinosaur that ate the helicopter, and Krebs, and you all ended up on the ship fleeing the island. In the end you all just fell asleep the moment you were in safer waters.

The sound of water splashing woke you up and you slowly blinked, realizing you were sleeping with your head on Zora’s lap. That was nostalgic. You glanced to the side, noticing dolphins swimming next to the boat and smiled. “Never thought I’d be this happy to see dolphins,” you didn’t hate them, you didn’t exactly love them either, but it meant you were definitely in safer waters compared to what you just left behind.

“Tell me about it,” Zora whispered, still carrying what happened on the island with her, all the lives lost, the decision she made, the uncertainties that might await you all. Even if you were bringing a potential medical revolution of sorts back, you still broke a lot of laws.

“Why don’t we just chuck the suitcase into the ocean?” you asked as you abruptly sat up and turned toward Zora and Loomis.

“What?!” they both exclaimed.

“And make this all even more for nothing?” Duncan demanded.

“We’re basically saying: Hey guys, we did something very illegal, here’s a proof for the whole world to use, only for some rich fucks to get it anyway meaning we accomplished absolutely nothing,” you said dryly making Zora and Duncan blink a few times, as they thought about your logic.

“That’s not how it would go, right?” Loomis asked slowly and you just shrugged.

“It’s all yours, we’re backing out,” Zora decided and pushed the case toward him.

“We were never here,” Duncan agreed, and you nodded, really not wanting to push your luck with this one. Hell no, you probably used up all of your luck just to make it out alive; hoping you had enough luck left not to be arrested the moment the world knew what you brought from the island was the kind of naïve thinking that wouldn’t do you any good. You glanced at the clear sky above you, and you liked looking at it without bars ruining the view.

~X~

A week later you were back in your apartment, taking a long break from everything when someone rang your doorbell. You sighed, it was supposed to be a quiet, simple night, but from the looks of it you couldn’t have that. You set aside the half-empty pizza box and pushed yourself to get up. Whoever came to your door didn’t ring again, so a part of you hoped they gave up and left, thinking maybe you weren’t home.

That hope faded when you heard a knock just as you were about to open the doors. Well, so much for whoever this was giving up, with a heavy sigh you opened the doors only to find Zora standing there, looking a lot like you did. Dark circles underneath her eyes, clear exhaustion etched onto her face, and perhaps a few beers too many.

“You look like shit,” she pointed out, making you roll your eyes.

“Right back at you,” you stepped to the side, letting her walk into your apartment like she used to do so many times before. She had your spare key, but you figured she didn’t want to use it, didn’t want to remind either of you of the time you were living together, sharing this very apartment, waking up next to each other, dreaming of a better life, until it all fell apart.

Zora looked around, her eyes landing on the photos still hanging on the walls, some of the two of you, some of the team. She stopped, her gaze lingering as her jaw clenched and you saw tears in her eyes as she looked at the photo where the whole team was, back before Duncan took his part of the crew, back when everyone else was alive. “Yeah, that’s the weight of surviving,” you caught yourself saying as you approached her. You’ve spent hours these past few days staring at that photo in particular, reminiscing about all the people who died, whether it happened last week or over the years.

You’ve both lost people before, but it was never this many on one mission. First Bobby, then Nina, and then LeClerc, not to mention how close to death Zora, Duncan and you got. “And it meant absolutely nothing,” no cure, no money. You might as well say you killed them yourselves.

“It rarely means anything in this line of work,” which was why you quit, before Bobby had the bright idea to drag you right back in. Zora nodded, smiling bitterly as she turned toward you.

“Why did you accept to come along? I thought you weren’t after the money anymore?” she asked, spreading her arms, watching you in a way that told you she wouldn’t leave until you gave her the honest answer.

You closed the distance between you, standing right in front of her. “Couldn’t live with letting you take that job without me watching your back,” you had no intention of hiding anything from her.

She raised her hand, brushing her fingers against your cheek, soft, as if she wasn’t sure if she should be doing it. “And I nearly lost you because of that,” she whispered, and you shrugged, you couldn’t let some mutated monster get her that easily. “Y/N,” she slipped her hand to the back of your neck, tugging you closer. “Is it smart to try this again?” you could feel her warm breath against your lips as your heart hammered inside your chest.

“No, but that never stopped us,” not the first time, not when it came to choosing jobs, and it clearly wouldn’t stop you this time.

Zora smiled, and you leaned in, capturing her lips, feeling a sense of relief as the longing you felt for years faded away, replaced by her presence. By her heated lips, warm body pressed against your own, her arms wrapped around you as you held her close. The kiss reawakened that old hunger, the one you believed was gone, yet all it took was one taste of her lips to make you feel like you’ve been starving for her.

You didn’t know how this would all end, but you didn’t want to let her go again, no matter the dangers or risks.

A/N: Yes, I did realize halfway through writing the movie part of the story that I didn’t have anything real for Reader to do, so, I figured, might as well skip it. I am not as sorry for that as I should probably be. Still, I can't say I'm happy with this one.

[oceantornadoo]

is it cool that i said all that? (5+1 times jack abbot almost confesses his love to samira mohan, pt5) AO3 LINK

-

Party with the badass ghouls October 31st!

9pm-🎉

Buzz Unit 203 - Santos and Whittaker

Get drunk or else!!!!!

The invite has been tacked up on Samira’s fridge for a month now, ever since the October schedule came out and Trinity saw Samira was free on Halloween (an ode to her working Thanksgiving and Christmas). She’d shoved the invite (glossy cardstock, an unexpected luxury) in Samira’s hand, looked her dead in the eyes, and said, “If you don’t wear something slutty, I’m not letting you into my apartment.” With constant reminders every week after that September day shift, Samira had finally come around to the notion that she did, for the first time since med school and the toxic cliques it hosted, have Halloween plans.

Her next shift wasn’t until November 2nd (“Plenty of time to get shitfaced and beat your hangover, Samira”), which left the actual day of Halloween free for costume shopping. With all of the stress of the Diwali party, and the reminder of Jack’s steady hand wrapped in her own, she’d put off costume shopping until the day of. Procrastination is a sign of having a life, right?

Dreadfully, her only option is a knockoff Spirit Halloween that appeared like a desert mirage a few blocks down from her apartment. Fairweathered October air guides her walk, a leisurely 11am stroll with parents and their strollers as her only company. The leaves glint burnt orange and a sickly shade of brown-green, haloing the streets like the cheesy Halloweentown movies she’d forced Appa to watch with her decades ago. The weight of yesterday’s shift sloughs off her shoulders as Samira lets herself hope for a night of fun, a night to be a real person that Ellis, and McKay, and Trinity, have all pleaded with her to be.

The door chimes with a werewolf’s howl to announce her entry, the store itself a mishmash of orange, black, and plastic. Out of nowhere, an overeager store attendant who looks like she should be in high school pops into her line of vision. “Hello! My name is Sara. Can I help you find anything today?” Her words echo in the empty store, Samira clearly her only customer as Samira wonders how many costumes are even left at this point. Even outside of the sterile hospital walls, Samira can tell when a conversation with a stranger is the medicine a person needs.

“I have a party tonight.” Samira offers, startling when Sara starts walking in a random direction, practically skipping with excitement. “What’s the vibe, cute or sexy? Are you trying to impress anyone?” Samira’s pretty sure these aren’t HR-approved questions, but the grin on Sara’s face is electric. Terribly, she wonders if Jack will be at the party. Trinity said she invited everyone (even the night shift attendings, accompanied with a wink), but Samira forced herself not to check the attending schedule for tonight. Still, the thoughts of Jack’s company haven’t left since Diwali, and she doesn’t want to come unprepared.

“Let’s do a mix of both.” Sara grins at her and gestures to the wall of packaged costumes and the dressing room next to it. “Let’s do it!”

iMessage

October 31st 11:16AM

pitt girls

Me: for the party?

Me: *two attachments*

victoria javadi: so cutee!!

trinity santos (BEST FRIEND DO NOT REMOVE): SEXY

trinity santos (BEST FRIEND DO NOT REMOVE): currently thirsting in broad daylight

mel king R3: You look great Samira!

iMessage

October 31st 11:24AM

Me: hey heather! are you going to trinity’s halloween party?

heather collins *attending*: I’ll have to see how tired I am…Shen definitely isn’t though. Kept complaining during handoff this morning that he’ll be the only night shift attending not there.

Me: oh! so parker will be there?

heather collins *attending*: And so will Abbot, he’s giving her a ride.

Me: 👍

Hours later, Samira buzzes herself into Trinity’s apartment. The two shots of tequila she took for strength electrify her skin, a swirl of ease settling over her shoulders. She’s getting a life. She’s partying with her work friends and she’s not thinking about her research or, as she steps into the shiny new elevator, how she’s going to be in this outfit surrounded by her coworkers.

By the time she reaches Unit 203, she’s trying valiantly not to think at all.

-

Jack wasn’t going to go to the party. He hadn’t been to a real apartment party, let alone one hosted by a resident, since he still worked day shift in a puppeteer act of trying to be a normal man. But then Ellis had begged him (her version of it, with a cocked eyebrow) for a ride and had mentioned, casually, that Samira would be there. That half of the reason Trinity made an effort to invite everyone at PTMC was to make sure Samira would feel comfortable attending a real party. Parker declined to tell him the other half of Trinity’s motivations, but with the pep in her step ten hours into their shift, he considered him not too old to miss the signs.

So here he was, pulling up to Parker’s apartment a quarter before ten. Almost immediately, she appears from the entrance and makes her way to his car, decked in…oh no.

“Why are we matching?” She swings the door open violently, taking in the pirate hat and wooden leg decor Jack has worn for every Halloween since he came to terms with his missing leg. Parker’s wearing a more modern pirate costume, decked with some wicked scar makeup, a billowy white shirt, tight-fitting pants that tuck into belted boots, and a sword belt to finish it off. Clearly, she had a lot more supplies than Jack did.

“You can’t argue with the leg, Ellis.” Jack quips. She huffs and gets in the car, readjusting her sword so it doesn’t impale her leg during the ride. “The leg is a cop-out.” She mutters, and then cranks up his ‘old man rock’ (as she calls it) to accompany them for the rest of the ride.

Blessedly, Jack finds street parking with a sign that promises he won’t get sued overnight. Jack texts Robby to let him know they’re here (“I’m only showing face once you’re there, brother.”) and the two head into the building. After a quick elevator ride, Unit 203 thumps loudly with a pounding beat, green and blue LED lights spilling from behind the door. “You ready to be the oldest guy here?” Parker ribs Jack at his side and opens the door, abandoning him the moment they step through.

The sea of people usher him in, familiar faces and new, non-hospital staff ones, blinking in a rainbow of colors. There’s Donnie in the corner, a Spiderman mask covering half of his face. Jessie’s next to him, adorned with skeleton makeup that blends with his tattoos. He does his rounds, greeting Dana smoking out of an open window, checks his phone to see when Robby’s getting there, and gives the group of frightened med students a half-hearted wave. He’s kidding himself to think he’s not looking for one person in particular, but he can’t see a mass of curls anywhere in the crowd. 

Someone is tapping his shoulder. When he turns, Trinity is adorned with vines that match her eyes, a green dress with fake poison ivy that lets him guess at her costume. “Hey, Santos. Thanks for the invite.” There’s two cups of something neon in her hands, one orange and one blue. “Abbot! Have you seen Samira?” It’s like she’s read his mind. They stare at each other for a moment, her eyebrow quirked, before he shakes his head. “I meant to give her this drink. Will you find her for me? I need to make sure Huckleberry isn’t yakking in the bathroom.” Despite his lack of knowledge for the term yakking, he’s pretty sure the context clues don’t paint a pretty picture. Jack takes the cup of blue ~something~ she’s offering and starts scanning the room, a man on a mission.

He doesn’t catch the smirk on Trinity’s face as she walks away, Huckleberry perfectly not-sick in the corner.

The apartment is larger than he expected, with modern steel appliances and multiple bedrooms, which makes his task a bit more challenging. But he didn’t lose his leg and ten years of his life for shit surveillance skills, so it only takes two sweeps of the room to find her. Her lack of claw clip means he can spot her mass of silky dark curls, a golden circlet threaded through them. Samira’s too far for him to yell her name, so he simply pushes through the crowd in search of his mission.

He catches her in the L-shaped hallway, far enough from the music that he can hear her breathing. “Mohan!” She turns, and well, he’s fucked.

Jack Abbot hasn’t believed in any higher being since he was nineteen on his first deployment. How could he, when he witnessed the technician who’d spent the last two months training him dive out of their vehicle to save a wounded soldier and immediately get gunned down? How could he, when he’d held the hands of men and women and promised to tell their families they loved them? How could he, when the free black and gold t-shirt he’d gotten on that faithful Career Day had been a buy-in for the war machine that was the US Army? How could he, when he missed his wife’s funeral from a thousand miles away, with one less leg attached to him?

But how couldn’t he, when Samira Mohan looked like that?

Lily-white fabric wraps around her torso, the V-neckline drawing his attention to the tease of cleavage not covered by the fabric. It bunches at the tops of her thighs in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, revealing her lithe legs that seem to go for miles. Delicate armbands, cheap as compared to the Indian gold that adorns her neck, wrap around her biceps. Her smooth brown skin glitters in the LED lights, and after a few blinks, he realizes she really does have glitter painted on her arms and thighs. 

His hands ache to wrap around her, to take the place of the costume jewelry. To see how permanent that glitter is, to caress the softness of her thighs until the shine rubs off completely. To worship the goddess in front of him, dressed the way he’s always imagined her.

Instead, he clears his throat and blinks several times, almost fainting in the process. Samira steps closer, and the little heeled sandals he couldn’t have imagined she owned put her on a closer level to eyesight. He meets her eyes, highlighted by gold flecks, and finds himself unable to speak a single word.

“Hi, Jack.” She greets him with a shy smile, her lips a kissable mixture of brown and pink. He grunts, perhaps a greeting, but he’s not really processing anything close to conversation right now. And then, of course, she chooses to hug him.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, a stretch of a few inches that feels like he’s crossing the ocean. It’s unlike the thankful hug they shared after he found her father’s chain; this is unknown territory. She squeezes and he follows her direction immediately, finding the curve of her waist and pulling her into his grasp. Her skin smells of coconut and vanilla, and he indiscreetly sniffs her hair, the only part of her without glitter. They stay like that for a moment, her drink still securely in his hand, and he lets himself lean into the fantasy. Coming home at the end of a long shift to this, her trusting warmth all his. 

With a gasp, Samira pulls out of his arms. His hand tightens on her waist for a second, just a heartbeat, and then drops to his side. “I can’t believe you came!” Her eyes shine and her smile is a little dopey and Samira Mohan is drunk. She sways a little, but straightens before Jack can help, her dimple making an appearance.

Jack makes the executive decision to not ply her with more alcohol, instead taking a casual sip of the drink like it was his all along. Samira’s eyes trace the swallow of his throat, and he’s suddenly thankful for the LED lights that hide his redness. “I’d rather be here than have teenage trick or treaters steal all my candy.” As he brings the cup down, Samira takes it, her tender hand brushing his own. It’s his turn to watch her as she takes a sip, a bead of the mysterious juice escaping her lips. Her pink tongue sticks out quickly to catch it, and it’s like it was never there.

“Trinity calls this ghoul juice.” She replies, seemingly ignoring his half-hearted excuse for why he’s here. “It’s disgusting.” He comments, the stark taste of vodka and blue raspberry powder still on his tongue. Samira takes another sip, then nods. “It’s terrible.” They both smile, her teeth slightly blue, and he wonders if her tongue tastes like blue raspberry too. 

Samira sways again, this time into him. Her stomach brushes against the waistband of his beige cargos and a spark of electricity zips through his system. The moment stretches and bends as she stays there, heat radiating into his skin. Samira licks her lips and his gaze follows, his neck dipping imperceptibly. She blinks at him like she knows what he’s thinking and of course she does – the smartest doctor he knows. 

“Jack, I-”

“Hey, man!” Robby’s voice thunders.

They separate like an explosion, Samira nearly colliding into the wall behind her. When Jack reaches to steady her, she sidesteps him and shakes her head. “Go say hi.” She murmurs. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but she’s already striding to the bathroom down the hall. 

Jack sighs and turns to where Robby stands in a skeleton shirt, a hulking mass at the end of the hall. “Hey, brother.” Jack greets him limply, still not 100% sure that his cock isn’t hard right now. “Was that Mohan?” Robby asks, too vigilant and very sober. “Yeah.” Jack comments, not adding anything else. Not wanting to get into this conversation that he’s sure Robby has been stewing on every since Fourth of July when he and Samira disappeared together. Unfortunately, Robby loves to have a conversation where he’s convinced he’s in the right.

“She’s a resident, Jack. Chief Resident.” Robby points out unnecessarily. Jack sighs, looking at the crowd behind Robby’s shoulders like it’ll hold the answers to the universe. “You say that like I’m not aware.” Jack responds. Robby’s nostrils flare at that, his shoulders hiked to his ears.

“Then you know you can’t do whatever it is that was back there.” The hypocrisy of the statement combined with the sheer look in his friend’s eyes combine into a deadly combination. Jack’s anger issues, well-managed in a therapy office most of the time, rear their ugly head. “You’re one to talk, brother.” Robby steps back like he’s been slapped, his eyebrows raised to the sky.

“Then take it from me – it won’t work. You can’t ruin her career.” It’s Jack’s turn to be offended. His prosthetic creaks as he lays his full weight on it, stepping back like he can escape Robby’s weapon range. “Don’t you think I know that? You’re not doing too much for her career either, Robby.” Jack’s hands bunch at his sides. The words he’s been thinking for years now are erupting from Robby’s mouth as the man preaches about duty and mentorship and godforsaken patient satisfaction scores. He drones onward, hands crossed over his chest in that condescending pose of his, talking to Jack like they aren’t fucking equals. Like Jack hasn’t endured drill sergeants and enemy fire. Nevertheless, they’re attracting attention, curious eyes sending looks to the pair, so Jack tugs him closer into the hallway.

“Just because you like her-” Jack cuts him off, not able to stand another word practically infantilizing Samira. “I don’t like her, man, I l-” Robby’s eyes widen above Jack’s head, and well worn instincts tell him to shut up. A second later, a vision in white and gold ushers past him, her hair flowing like a vengeful inky river.

Jack abandons Robby, slackjaw and out of his depth, to pursue Samira through the crowd. Light from the external hallway, stark and desolate, shines on the party for a split second. Jack takes an educated guess and follows it. Moments later, Jack wrenches the door open, and sees her figure pacing down the hallway.

“Samira!” He calls out, and thankfully, she stops. Jack slows his momentum so it doesn’t send her away, but he should’ve known better than to think Dr. Samira Mohan as skittish about confrontation.

“Dr. Abbot, you should go back inside.” Samira insists, hands still at her sides. Her purse hangs off her shoulder, and he realizes she really was going to leave. “Samira.” He breathes, unable to verbalize the desperation in his voice. Her face, stony and resolute, doesn’t move a muscle.

“I’m sorry for overstepping professional boundaries, Dr. Abbot. Clearly, I misread something that isn’t there.” His heart nearly bursts out of his chest as he takes in her words. Jack immediately shakes his head, and the first sign of life appears on her face as she frowns. “You didn’t misread anything. Robby was being an asshole.” There’s so much more he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to scare her off. Not when her lips part a centimeter and a breath escapes her lungs. Samira steps closer until there’s barely anything between them except oxygen.

In the harsh light of the hallway, the glitter on her skin disappears, but it leaves her no less a goddess. Deft fingers touch the brim of his stupid pirate hat, pushing it up slightly so she has a better view of his face. His hands twitch at his side, aching to brush against her waist.

But Samira is still slightly off-kilter, her brow furrowed as she focuses on staying upright on the carpeted floor. Her tongue is blue when she licks her lips, and something about the moment isn’t right.

“Take me home, Jack.” Her doe eyes plead as she closes the gap between them, chest against chest. Her eyes shine from alcohol and Jack hates himself a little bit for the words that come out of his mouth. “I can’t.” The mirth in her gaze dies in a moment. “It’ll be more fun than the party.” She quips.

Fun. Not even in his vocabulary when he’s thought about bringing her home. Life-altering, earth-shattering, peace. Fun is temporary. Fun is what she should be having, fifteen years his junior with so much ahead of her. She can’t ruin her path to attending with a night of just fun. 

Jack steps back from her magnetic gaze. Anguish burns in his stomach as she crosses her arms across her chest, mirroring that same defensive position she takes when faced with Robby. Her eyes blink rapidly, and if she starts crying, he might combust.

“Let me drive you home, Samira.” He tries to reach the sober part of her, but it’s clearly long gone. “I can get an Uber. Aren’t you-” She hiccups, cementing his decision. “Didn’t you drive Ellis?” Samira’s already reaching for her phone. 

“Ellis never planned to go home with me, trust me. I’m sure she’s making arrangements as we speak.” His eyes flick to the apartment to emphasize. Jack stands still as Samira opens her Uber app, likely with three figure prices at this time. She sighs, and his shoulders drop in relief as she starts walking to the elevator. “You can drive me home.”

The elevator ride is silent. As is the drive. His words echo in the space between them, hanging over his head like an anvil. The moment he pulls up to her place, Samira unbuckles her seatbelt, stumbles on the exit from his car, and rights herself before he can unbuckle his own belt. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Abbot. Thanks for the ride.”

“Samira, I-” She shuts the door before he can continue.

-

When she unlocks her door, Samira beelines for the bathroom, thankfully reaching the toilet before she vomits. Tears blur her vision, and she throws up again as self-disgust boils inside of her. By some miracle, she makes it to her bed and closes her eyes before her actions can bleed into her dreams.

Six hours later, Samira Mohan wakes up with a raging hangover and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

[g00d--m0urning]

Final Destination: Your House (CH. 7)

(CW: none for this chapter, i think)

Everyone finally gets to apologize. Turns out you're not on the same page.

ok, so I kind of hate this chapter, but… Oh well. I also posted this on shitty hotel wifi, so if there's mistakes or anything, please tell me.

(one-shot reqs are still open. I currently have 23 on the list, so I'll obvi tell you if yours is already on the list.)

You’re awake, have been for hours, but your eyes have remained closed. If you keep them closed then you don’t have to face the reality of what’s going to happen today. Everything could go wrong, then again, everything could go right.

Birds chirp directly outside of your window, seemingly getting more insistent with each passing moment. One of them pecks at the window until you finally have enough, throwing the covers off. You glare at the bird, who you swear smirks at you before flying off.

You prolong your morning routine as long as you can, taking your sweet time with every little thing. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a long while, tracing over the small mark on your forehead; the stitches dissolved a few days ago and all that’s left is a tiny scar.

You splash your face, letting the water drip down your face, exhaling deeply. You can’t avoid this, as much as you want to, you promised Skylar. When you walk back into your bedroom, you notice a note on the bedside table, the familiar symbol of Celia's office stationery embossed on the corner:

 ‘Please meet us in the Breaker Box, dearest. -your lovers’

The vague message does little to soothe your ever fraying nerves, placing the glasses on a few minutes later. The Breaker Box sounds quiet from the outside; no laughter, none of Johnny’s crooning, nothing.

It takes you by surprise when you walk in, discovering that almost everybody is in the bar. You’ve never seen so many of them in one place, even during movie nights people rotate in and out. 

The murmurings you couldn’t hear from outside fall hush when the door shuts behind you, announcing your presence to the room, “Hello,” you choke out, resisting the urge to shrink under all the eyes on you.

“Thank you for coming,” Celia smiles, stepping through the throngs of people, offering a hand for you to take.

You hesitantly set your hand in hers, allowing her to guide you to your booth, “What’s going on?” you ask, looking around the room, watching as they shrivel when you meet their eyes.

“We’re doing what we should’ve done in the first place: talking to you- and apologizing,” Skylar comes forward to explain, “And after, you can say whatever you want, no matter how much you think it might hurt us, we want you to say it, okay?”

“Alright,” you confirm, fine with the terms, “You guys do know that apologies aren’t going to fix everything, right?” 

“We do, yes,” Skylar nods fervently, coming closer to you, “We all know that apologizing is the first step of a long process and we’re all okay with that.”

You nod back, going to thank her, but she cuts you off, “and please don’t thank us. It’s the bare minimum, probably even less,” she states, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Now, I think we’re going to start.”

The dateables line up near the stage, taking turns in front of the microphone; some had prepared speeches, others spoke on the fly, speaking whatever came to mind. There’s lots of tears, like a lot. Not just from you, though; everybody did.

It means a lot, hearing them all apologize so deeply from the heart. After everybody has had their turn, they all take seats somewhere, ready for you. You take your place on the stage, looking over the crowd, “Hi,” you speak into the mic, wincing when it crackles in return.

“I… I appreciate everyone’s apologies, deeply,” you trail off, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath to compose yourself, “But I was to speak my mind, so I will.”

“Over the past week, I have been hurt immensely and I’m not talking about my accidents. The way you all treated me was…Horrible. The off and on hurt worse than it would’ve had you all just outright told me you hated me,” you tell them, picking at dry skin on your palms.

 “And it was over a movie. All of you ignored me so easily, not once thinking to talk to me about it,” your voice breaks, but you keep going, “I know why you did it, but I can’t understand it.”

Your face crumples, setting a hand over your eyes, gasping for air between broken sobs, “How was it so easy for all of you to do that to me?” you ask, unsure if you truly want the answer. 

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

If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of their hearts shattering. When this all started, they figured you’d see it the way they did. Apparently not. Nobody knows what to do. They hate watching you break down, but it seems like comfort from them is the last thing you want. 

“We’re sorry,” Skylar apologizes again, standing up from her chair.

“I don’t want more fucking apolgies, Skylar! I want an explanation, a reason, anything!” you shout, backing away from her, “You said it yourself, you know apologies aren’t fixing this.”

“I know, I know! Please,” she begs, stopping her approach when you back away, “we did it for you! We just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And where’d that get you?” you spit, trying to keep yourself in check. Anger wars with a deep sense of betrayal, battling for dominance in your own mind, “...Did you do it for me or for yourselves?”

That question sucks all the air from the room, a suffocating tension falling over the room. They did it for you, of course they did. They did. Sure, they were scared and didn’t talk to you to see what you thought, and did it so they wouldn’t carry the guilt of hurting you… 

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

“That’s all I need you to admit,” you whisper, staring at Skylar expectantly, then turning to everyone else, “I don’t care if you did, but you can’t claim this was for me because this is not what I wanted. All I wanted was you guys.”

“You’re right,” it’s Dorian that admits it, his face as stoic as ever, “We were scared and it made us selfish. All we thought about was ourselves.”

You can’t find the words, only able to nod in response. It’s all you wanted to hear; it doesn’t change anything. Dorian begins approaching, keeping his steps slow and light, like coming up to a skittish animal.

He pulls you into his arms, tucking you against his wide frame. You protest weakly, smacking against his chest until you’re too tired to continue fighting, “Fuck you.”

He doesn’t apologize, nor does his grip on you falter. He holds you the way he always does, like he’s scared he might lose you if he lets go. For once, he’s worried that might be the case. 

“Don’t leave again, please. I can't do this.”

[nitanael]

[mttonex]

killer dolls and their nonbinary child 😁💖

[apostaticlamb]

kicking my legs and giggling over the fact that the turtles so obviously symbolize benitez. ofc we all know the fable of the tortoise and the hare (i know tortoises aren't turtles, but they're closely related enough for it to still work), with its motto of "slow and steady wins the race"- which is exactly how benitez won the papacy, in a way. but also, lawrence mentions that sometimes the turtles stray too far from the pond and get struck by cars in the busy street. near the end of the film, we have a scene of lawrence picking up a turtle and bringing it safely back to the pond; before this was the scene of benitez's confession to lawrence that he's intersex. in turn, the turtle rescue scene so obviously symbolizes lawrence keeping benitez's secret safe and protecting him.

[screwpinecaprice]

Oh oof I slipped and hit them with dark and serious beam. 😣

[buggybadhabits]

whadda heck, a man dog

[hirunoka]

You know that he can and he will, Alex.

Incorrect Like Minds Quotes: #1 #2

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

When you found a new media you like 😃 But none of your friends are into it to discuss 😔