#well it's really vague but better safe than sorry

[pathologicalrunaway]

a minor inconvenience: *happens*

me:

[local-queer-classicist]

I finally got to read Chalice of the Gods and I was not disappointed. Ganymede is probably one of my favorite characters in Greek myth but I wasn’t ever sure he would get to be properly portrayed in the series due to the nature of his story combined with the constraints of a middle grade series. I was afraid if he ever did properly show up the darker elements of his story would get brushed over and that would kinda suck, so part of me never wanted Rick to even try with Ganymede. But I really like how he handled him in this book. The clear terror of Ganymede throughout, how gross Zeus feels (“I like watching him walk away” die in a fire you piece of shit I swear to god), but all handled in the way you might expect the same heavy topics to be handled irl when there are children in the room. The story isn’t gone, the effects are very much there and those who know can see it, but nobody says it and it makes sense that they don’t. Ganymede wouldn’t be comfortable talking about it to a bunch of teenagers he doesn’t know, the other gods/goddesses we meet along the way would either be too uncomfortable with the subject matter in general (as many if not most people would be), not want to tell Ganymede’s story for him, be hesitant to draw Zeus’ ire by portraying him in a bad light, or just not see the situation as a problem due to their nature of being terrible people. It absolutely makes sense that nobody says what’s going on. So even when it feels like it’s being brushed over, it feels like the characters in the world are doing that for their own reasons, not that the author is doing it to spare the innocence of his young readers.

(It’s also pretty on-brand that Percy knew next to nothing about the myth and didn’t look it up. His assumption that the myth would probably be told from Zeus’ side and therefore not be terribly helpful is understandable, but he failed to consider that Zeus is such an asshole that “Zeus’ side” might still include some pretty damning details because Zeus would fail to recognize that he’d done anything wrong that he might want to leave out. I was impressed that Percy took the time to try and look Gary up, though, even if the attempt was unsuccessful. That’s character development hard at work, folks.)

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown Part 6

Masterpost

Danny, after many promises and assurances, lets Red Robin take him to the batcave. They travel by car, and as fancy as it was, Danny was almost scared to touch anything inside it. Red was a much better driver than his father though, so he just closed his eyes and focused on trying to keep his healing up.

The Batcave turned out to be an actual cave, underground, with actual bats in it. He was whisked to a medical area too quickly to see much of anything else besides some other vehicles and a giant computer set up. 

Someone was waiting in the medical space with a tray of tools and bandages ready next to the bed, Red introduced him as Agent A. They were quick to lie him down on a cot and set him up to a heart monitor and that had Red and the A frowning immediately.

“It’s a medical condition.” Danny blurted, and both pairs of eyes shot to him. “My heartrate is naturally very slow, temperature runs cold, pale skin, slow circulation so I can't have a lot of different medications." Not that any medications would really work, but better safe than sorry. Them not working would be suspicious, and Danny does not have the energy or focus for trying to keep straight any real explanations right now.  "It’s fine, I promise.”

Agent A nodded slowly. “Is there anything else we should know before we start treatment?”

“Just can't give me any medicines, I think that's the only relevant bit.”

“Alright, I will keep that in mind. Please lift your shirt so I can see the wound.”

Danny does, and they manage their expressions quite well on seeing it. Agent A goes immediately for creams and bandages.

“What burned you like that?” Red asked.

“Gun.” Danny was starting to slur. He did not want to sleep right now, with these people here.

“A gun? What kind of gun causes burns?”

“New blaster, parents made it special.”

“Your parents make guns?”

Danny shrugs, turning his head to look at Red instead of the far off ceiling of the cave. “My parents make lots of things. They're scientists, inventors." Danny waves his arm around vaguely. "The gun was new though, hadn’t been shot with that one before. The earlier versions were much less powerful.”

“Are you saying that your parents are the ones that shot you?” Red asked gently, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “It wasn’t just their gun that was used?”

Danny frowns. “Well yeah.”

Tim is very concerned at the tone he just used, like getting shot at by your parents was normal. “Do they shoot at you a lot?”

“Fair amount I suppose.” Red could see Danny thinking really hard about something. Dany’s head was really starting to hurt. His brain was fuzzy and he knew he should be concerned about something, but couldn’t figure out what. His parents shooting at him was nothing new, considering. “Like, they did it more than Vlad but I don’t see him as often, and they’ve done it longer than the GIW, but since the GIW has started they’ve been about equal I guess. I mean, sometimes all the defense systems in the house target me but that wasn’t technically intentional. Took forever for us to figure out how to get them to stop that.”

“Danny, when was the last time you slept?” Red asked gently.

Danny wasn’t sure if his blip earlier this morning counted. He didn’t think it lasted more than an hour, but the last time he slept before that was before his fight in Amity, escaping through the ghost zone and running around in this dimension.

“It’s been awhile.” Danny landed on. True enough for medical history he supposed.

“Right.” A finished the last of the bandages and tugged Danny’s shirt back down. “Well, why don’t you do that now, while we go and find you something to eat.”

“I’m too tired to fight food right now.”

Tim shared a look with Alfred before turning back to Danny. “Okay then. Maybe sleep first and then eat?”

“I will go start making something now that you’re all set up here Mister Danny.” Agent A states, walking past the medical curtains and shutting them behind him. Red pulled out a tablet and started tapping on it. He noticed Danny’s eyes on him after a moment.

“You going to sleep?”

“Strange place, strange people. Not sure that’s the best decision here.”

Red looked up from his tablet.

“You trusted me enough to come here. Trust me enough to sleep. I will make sure no one but me or A comes in before you’re ready.”

[lightseoul]

#12 please🫶🫶

12, coming right up! tagging also @tsunderelover07, thank you sm for playing <3

(this is lightseoul’s 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i’ll whip something up!)

12. "I COULD USE A HUG RIGHT NOW." (1.6k)

you’re startled to attention when your phone pings from where you unknowingly dropped it beside you on the couch.

apparently, it has slid by the edge of your butt in the few minutes of you staring blankly at the off-white wall, and the brief vibration right to your ass is enough to snap you back to reality.

your now sucky-ass reality.

picking it up, your frown deepens even more when you see the text.

(7:04 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’m so sorry i can’t be there with you rn!!!! i got called in last minute to cover for momo. i really am sorry :(((

you know it’s not mina’s fault, but your heart drops in disappointment nevertheless. not wanting to make her feel bad, however, you quickly type in a reply.

(7:05 PM) you: no worries, mina. i understand :) stay safe out there!

sighing, you’re about to place your phone on the small coffee table in front of you when your phone chimes again.

(7:05 PM) bestie #1 (mina)💞: i’ll make it up to you, promise!! can i send someone there to accompany you in my stead??

you feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion. you vaguely remember kaminari and sero talking about their patrol schedules shifting, and how they complained that they now have to cover friday nights.

kirishima’s currently overseas on a classified mission, although you guess it’s not as classified now, seeing as how he told you and the rest of the squad about being drafted in it.

which only leaves…

you shake your head. it can’t be.

mina knows you better than that—knows that out of the friend group, bakugou’s the one you’re the least close to, and you’re even convinced that the man hates you. you’re not entirely sure, but you’re starting to think he’s purposefully avoiding you—always choosing the farthest seat from you, and never attending hangouts when it was just the two of you and one other person.

he may be making it a point not to smile or laugh around you, too. which hurts, because of the unfortunate realization that mina arrived at a few weeks ago before you can even say hold up.

the realization that you may or may not have a stupidly embarrassing crush on bakugou katsuki.

so… scratching him out, who else could it be?

you’re in the middle of unlocking your phone to ask who she’s sending (because knowing her, she may be asking for permission now, but she for sure has already sent someone), when, as if on cue, a barrage of heavy knocks echo from your doorway.

you freeze.

that can’t be a mutual gal friend of mina and yours. not with the aggressive-ass knocking.

your butt remains stuck on the seat for a few seconds of silence, at least until the rapping comes back on and again, and you stumble your way towards your apartment unit’s front door.

it’s moments like this that make you wish you have a fucking peephole, but oh, well.

patting down your hair in a last-minute, desperate attempt to look presentable, you finally reach for the knob and open the door.

only to be met face-to-face with bakugou ‘it can’t be’ katsuki.

you literally feel your soul leave your body as you lock eyes with the man, who, from the get-go, is already frowning at you.

his eyes rove over your face. “don’t you look like shit?”

you can’t help but return his scowl to him even if you tried. “well, hello to you, too.”

the quip doesn’t seem to bother him, though, who only continues to study you. when they get to your eyes, however, his frown intensifies. “have you been crying?”

shit.

you forgot to check your reflection before you answered the door, but you bet there’s no lying out of this one, what with you crying non-stop ever since you got home—the second you closed the door behind you.

“yeah, well…” you start, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “i’m not sure if mina told you, but i got—”

“laid off,” he finishes for you, nodding. “i know.”

hearing it from another person’s mouth, let alone bakugou’s, sends a pang of pain straight to your chest all over again, and you have to fight the tears that are threatening to well up around the corners of your eyes.

“well,” he speaks up after a beat of silence, “are ya gonna let me in or not?”

you roll your eyes, although it’s more playful than anything, and bakugou catches you, to which he just scoffs. he enters as you hold the slab of wood open for him, closing it promptly as he crosses the distance to the kitchen in just a few strides, already familiar with the floorplan from the countless hangouts you’ve hosted for the squad.

and as he opens the freezer, you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when, as if reading your mind, he holds up two pints of what looks like ice cream for you to see. “brought your favorite.”

you beam at him. “aww, that’s so sweet of mina! thank you.”

at that, his face contorts in a look of offense as if you just unceremoniously pinched his armpit.

you frown. “what?”

he only shakes his head, although that pained expression remains on his face. “‘s nothing. sure, thank mina.”

“…okay? i just did, but okay.”

he tosses you a glare, which you just try to shake off. you’re sure comforting someone isn’t exactly part of bakugou’s repertoire, so you conclude it’s better to cut the guy some slack.

“you’ve eaten dinner?” he asks as he rummages through the rest of your refrigerator, most likely judging you for the lack of ingredients and fresh produce.

“yeah,” you respond. he doesn’t have to know that dinner was a cup of instant noodles you pathetically scarfed down in the convenience store on the way home. you figured you could treat yourself to a grand pity meal for getting laid off, but thought better against it. if anything, you needed to save money, at least until you get hired by another hero agency.

straightening up, he eyes you suspiciously as if sensing you’re hiding something. “you sure?”

you nod decisively, which you can only do because you’re technically not lying.

bakugou stares you down for a couple more seconds before nodding curtly himself, now looking absolutely stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

and as you observe the man, it hits you that you may have just robbed him of the only thing he knows when it comes to consoling a grieving person.

by cooking for them.

you’re not exactly hungry, but you can’t help but feel bad for the pro-hero as he stands there seemingly deep in thought, probably trying to figure out what to do with himself now.

you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you’re about to say.

“but you can cook—” you start.

“come work for us.”

“what?” you ask, the same time he goes: “huh?”

he’s the first one to regain his bearings. “thought you had dinner already? changed your mind, huh, dumbass?”

you ignore his snide pet name. “what do you mean come work for you?”

at that, bakugou shifts on his feet, shrugging. “you know what i mean. come work at ground riot. we have a vacancy that fits you.”

you gape at him. “you’re kidding me?”

to that, bakugou tosses you a deadpan look. “does it look like i’m kidding?”

you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s looking constipated, like he always does, so you keep your mouth shut. instead, you only stand there a few feet away from him, twitching as you desperately tamp down the visceral urge to kiss the man in glee.

he must be getting weirded out, because he only looks at you with an eyebrow raised. “the fuck is going on with you?”

“i—” you begin, clenching your fists.

here goes nothing.

“—just—i could use a hug right now, bakugou.”

“a what?”

you try to ignore the incredulous expression on his face, let alone the scarlet that’s starting to creep up his neck. “as a thank you. for the offer. and you came all the way here to comfort me, right? i could really use a hug.”

it takes him a beat to reply, mouth opening and closing and then opening again, until he settles with: “that’s pushing it, dumbass.”

despite yourself, you deflate at his rejection. you got too carried away by his generous offer and the fact that he’s here—that he went out of his way to accompany you and even bring you your favorite ice cream—that you ended up crossing a line you’ve never dared to cross until now.

you try to deny it, but it stings.

still, you muster as much of a good-natured smile as you can, adding a light-hearted chuckle to boot. “i was just joking…” you mutter under your breath.

at that, you turn your back against him, face flaming in embarrassment as you start to head toward the living room to fetch your phone when you hear him heave a deep sigh behind you.

and before you can even comprehend what’s going on, you feel something tug at your wrist, spinning you on your heel until you collide with a firm chest that can only belong to one person.

your eyes are wide as saucers when you feel his arms gently wrap around your back, pressing you further against him.

“happy?” he grunts, voice low and reverberating against you.

it takes you a second, but you can only nod from where you’re plastered right onto him, his cologne completely flooding your senses, sending your heart into a total frenzy.

so much so that you almost miss the way his is hammering like crazy, too.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,252 (oof, this one got long!)

Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader

Reader pronouns: largely unspecified (but Negan does refer to reader as doll and darling which could be considered more feminine terms of endearment)

Warnings: language haha, frightening scenarios, references to past violence

Summary: Months have now passed since Y/N began taking on Negan as a "project" and the reader suggests an even longer run outside the walls.

A/N: This is part of a series! Find all the parts on the Negan Master List.

Previous Part here!

“It’s been months,” you said. “There hasn’t been a single time that I’ve felt unsafe, and both of you know I never let my guard down.”

Daryl was leaning up against the wall beside the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was serious but largely unreadable. Michonne leaned forward on the table, considering your words.

“We need to think long-term here. Are we just going to keep him locked up forever? Or is there some version of this where he gets out and either integrates as much as possible or—or goes on his way?”

Michonne sighed and shook her head. “I’m not sure any of us have the answer to that yet,” she said.

“I know. I still don’t,” you said. “I’m not sure what the future looks like for him, but I know we have to do more than just letting him out to pick tomatoes every once in a while. So, that’s what I’m doing. And with you two stuck here dealing with the wall and the kids—and the pantry and medical supplies starting to run low, well… let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

Daryl sighed and straightened up. “I ain’t gonna say I like it, but I trust ya and I’ve seen your judgment play out too many times to doubt it. If ya think it’ll be alrigh’, then—well, ‘m good with it. But ya gotta show us exactly where you’ll be and when to expect ya back in case we need to come lookin’.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll mark it all on the map. We should be able to make it out and back in a single long day. Leave early. Get back late.”

“And no weapons for him unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Michonne emphasized.

“Of course,” you agreed.

“Alright,” Michonne nodded. “When will you go?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I’ll get everything ready today.”

“I’ll walk ya out,” Daryl drawled, watching as you grabbed your bag and shouldered it. “Listen—” he started.

You looked over at him and smiled, already knowing you were about to get a worried Daryl Dixon lecture. “Mhm?” you prompted him.

“The hell are ya smirkin’ about?” he growled, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing,” you laughed. “Go ahead.”

“Well—if somethin’ happens out there… if it comes down to you or him…” he trailed off.

Your brow furrowed deeply now to match his. “It won’t,” you said seriously.

He shifted anxiously. “But if it does…”

“Daryl. It’s not going to,” you insisted.

He nodded, pulling back. “Wish I could go with ya… I’d feel better about it.”

He relented and nodded, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Okay. C’mere.” He pulled you into a hug and you smiled as he folded you up against him. “I just want ya to be safe, is all.”

“I know. I will,” you agreed.

“I know. But it’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re shitting me, right?” Negan said, his breakfast still in his hand, not a single bite taken.

You stared at him and then let out a dry laugh. “That’s not exactly the reaction I was expecting,” you said.

“Well, shit. I mean… a real scavenging trip? That’s what you’re saying?” Negan said. He ran a hand back through his hair and stood, pacing a tight circle in his cell. “Who else is going?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Why? Someone specific you want me to invite? Want me to ask your old pal Gabriel? Or wait—Eugene?”

He laughed but looked vaguely shocked. “Well, I’m sorry but I’m just—a little fuckin’ surprised, doll.” You’d eased some on scolding Negan for the pet names over the last few weeks and generally just ignored them now unless it was something really egregious. (You’d nearly hit him for calling you ‘princess’ one day, so he had at least not tried that again.) He seemed to enjoy taking full advantage of you turning a deaf ear to them now. “Just you and me? Out there?” he clarified.

“You and I have already been out there alone how many times, hmm? I don’t see why this should be any different,” you said, digging around in your pack.

“Well, it’s farther. I mean, farther for you to get help if—”

You straightened up and fixed a skeptical gaze on him. “If what? If you suddenly decide to attempt to murder me? Attack me? Steal the car and leave me out there? I’ll still be armed and you won’t. Besides, I’ve been through more shit out there than—”

He laughed again. “I was just gonna say in case any number of bad fuckin’ things happens out there. And we both know that they do.”

“Yeah. You used to be one of those bad things, remember?” you shot back quickly. He sighed at your deflection and you couldn’t help but laughing. “I am having to sell this harder to you than I did to Michonne and Daryl. What is going on? What are you worried about?”

“I’m not worried! Although, it would be fuckin’ nice to have something to defend myself with in case of the dead or unexpected assholes…”

“ ‘Unexpected Assholes’?” you repeated. “What is that, your one man play?” you quipped. “Let me guess—you’ll be playing yourself.”

Negan couldn’t resist a hearty laugh at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s good. You’re fuckin’ hilarious as usual, doll.” But he looked serious again the next moment. “Anyway, about me having some way to defend myself…”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” you said lazily. “I’ll let you have, like, a stick if you want,” you smirked. He only stared back at you. “I told you that I’ll protect you! You think I’m just gonna let a walker wander up and bite you?” There was a thick silence for a moment where he just stared back at you.

“I’m not worried about one walker. I’m worried about all the random, rogue shit that can happen out there.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to trust me! Do you not want to go or what?” you pressed him, perplexed at his reaction.

He paused, drew in a deep breath, and let it out. Then that damn smirk showed back up on his face, sending his hazel eyes sparkling. “Are you asking if I want to go spend some quality time alone with you? Just the two of us? No one to interrupt… Completely at your mercy for whatever you may decide to do with me… or to me…”

You rolled your eyes, catching onto his tone immediately. “That could include killing you,” you cautioned him, eliciting a low laugh from him. You hated that the deep gravel of it gave you goosebumps. You did your best to ignore it.

“I don’t know… I’m starting to think this is just a ploy to get away with me where nobody can easily interrupt us,” Negan said. “I mean, shit. No need hide your true intentions from me,” he grinned. “I am absolutely 110% on board with that. Use me all you want, doll,” he grinned, now gripping the bars of his cell door. “God, I’d love to be fuckin’ used by you.”

You crossed your arms and fixed a stern look on him, hoping that your face wasn’t flushing bright red. You cleared your throat. “Sounds more like wishful thinking on your part. It’s a scavenging run, Negan, not a fucking romantic getaway,” you said.

“Are you sure you said that right? I think you meant romantic fucking getaway. Emphasis on the—”

“Negan! Stop! I will cancel this whole thing! Jesus Christ!”

That shit-eating grin was still on his face and he laughed again, thoroughly pleased with himself. “Alright, alright. I’m done. I think…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “Scavenging. Run.” you repeated.

“Yeah, we’ll see, doll. We’ll see. So, where are we going exactly?”

You forged ahead, ignoring his last comments in favor of moving on. “There are some old houses and other structures we’ve only ever done a cursory search of. Probably not going to make a huge score but there’s always something left behind, something hidden. But who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky,” you said.

“Fuck me, I’d love to get lucky…” he laughed again.

“Negan!” you exclaimed again.

“Alright! I’m sorry,” he chuckled.

“So, are you in?” you asked, slightly exasperated.

The two of you were separated by only the iron bars and a small buffer of space, hardly a foot. He was still smiling at you and you hated that the thought that he was handsome flickered through your mind. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought it—but the thought always surprised you, like it came from somewhere outside of yourself, not by your conjuration alone. “Fuck yes, I’m in,” he answered, interrupting your thoughts.

“You promise to listen to everything I say? If I tell you to run, if I tell you to hide—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise,” he said, smiling. “If I don’t, you’ll shoot me in the fuckin’ knee or some shit. Can we skip the pep talk?”

You gave him a stern look but unlocked his cell and tossed him the spare pack you’d brought. You dug into your own bag and handed him some supplies, including some outerwear. He tucked them into his bag and looked up at you expectantly. “Where to, warden?”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the tiniest smirk. “Car is right outside. Let’s get going. The sun is starting to come up and it could be a long day.”

“Great. Can I drive?” he quipped, shouldering his bag. You only shot him a look that made him laugh again, but he saw the slight curve at the corners of your mouth.

The drive to the crumbling ruins of the neighborhood was slow, but uneventful. The sun was up and filtering through the trees overhead as you and Negan climbed out and started toward the buildings. You were quiet, focused, and Negan couldn’t help admiring your efficiency and care as you went about your mission.

The two of you stopped at the edge of the crumbling street, concealed in some taller brush. The street was overgrown with weeds and lined with dilapidated houses. It was almost eerily quiet.

“Alright,” you breathed quietly. “We’ll go building by building, down one side and back up the other. Pay attention to signs of walkers or people,” you said softly, gripping the straps of your pack. “Follow my lead and stay close.”

“You got it,” Negan replied, slipping his hands into his pockets as he followed alongside you toward the first house. “I gotta say, it is really uncomfortable being out here without a damn weapon. More so here than in the woods,” he commented, his eyes shifting around to study the other buildings, scrutinizing for a sign of movement. “I feel like I’m naked,” he said.

“I guarantee—” You paused to tap on the wall of the house the two of you were standing beside, listening for anything inside. “You’re not. If you were naked, I would not be this fuckin’ calm, Negan,” you said, half-distracted.

He chuckled and licked his bottom lip, smirking.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“I don’t think that sounded how you meant it to sound,” he laughed.

Your cheeks flushed. “Oh, shut up. You know what I meant!”

“Your brain is saying one thing but your lips are sayin’ another, darlin’,” he teased you.

You rolled your eyes and pulled the front door open, stepping cautiously inside. The smell was of mildew and stagnant air as you stepped inside. A heavy layer of dust and dirt coated everything; overturned furniture, books standing or tipped over on shelves, a stately chair still positioned in front of the fireplace. Somewhere deeper in the house, water was dripping. You had your gun out and started clearing the lower floors. Negan ghosted behind you.

You made for the staircase to check the upstairs when there was a soft thump overhead. Your eyes and Negan’s went to the ceiling.

“Alright… maybe someone is home after all,” he commented, giving you a concerned look.

“It’s gotta be a walker,” you said. “Maybe an animal.” You proceeded cautiously toward the staircase.

“Hey,” Negan said softly. “Be careful.”

You turned and looked at him for a long moment before you started up the stairs. He seemed genuinely on edge, worried. He stayed right on your heels as you climbed the steps, the muscle in his jaw tensed as his teeth clenched together.

You cleared two bedrooms and finally came to a closed door at the end of the hall. As the floor creaked under your boots, there was the sound of more movement behind the door. You reached for the door knob, gun ready in your other hand. You took a deep breath and quickly turned it shoving the door open and aiming the muzzle of your pistol inside.

An opossum let out an angry hiss and then scrambled up and out of a broken window. It had been rooting around in some debris on the floor. A huge sigh of relief escaped you and Negan watched your shoulders sag. You laughed a little as you turned to look back at Negan. He gave you a relieved look.

“I gotta be honest,” he said. “I fuckin’ hate this shit. I feel completely helpless without something to use if something bad happens. What am I supposed to do if you need help?”

You gave him a somewhat sympathetic look, thinking about how it would feel to be in his place—the unknown behind every locked door with no knife, no gun… completely vulnerable and reliant on someone who was essentially his jailor. “Well,” you said. “I have a feeling if something really did go wrong, you’d figure something out.”

He considered your words for a moment. “Yeah. I hope so.” He thought about what he would do. What if they ran into some bad men? Bad people? What would he really do if you were in danger? He didn’t have to think hard to know the answer. Anything. He’d do anything he needed to. The thought seemed to dig deep into the center of his chest and sit there, heavy. It was almost a surprise. “So, now what? House is clear.”

You holstered your gun again. “Now, we search. See if there’s anything left. A lot of people hid things, right after. There’s always something left behind. You take the upstairs. I’ll go through the downstairs.”

Negan nodded his agreement and turned back to the trashed bathroom, the sound of your steps fading away down the staircase. He searched every room, every cabinet, every closet, under beds, under loose floorboards, but came away with nothing of interest except for half a bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He headed downstairs where he could hear you rummaging around in the living room. “Hey,” he greeted you, stepping over the threshold. You were standing completely frozen now at the shelves, looking down at something. “Y/N?” he said again. You still didn’t seem to have heard him. He wandered closer. “Find something?”

You startled a little and turned to look at him, a picture frame in your hand. “Oh. No, not really. You?”

“Half a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I stuck it in my pack.” He nodded toward the frame. “What’s that?”

You looked down at it again. “It’s nothing. It’s just this—this family portrait. I wonder if they lived here—” you said thoughtfully. Your voice seemed to drift away a little. “Or what happened to them, you know? Did they make it? Were they ever safe again after the outbreak?”

Negan looked on with a thoughtful expression, his dark brows furrowed over his eyes. He nodded and moved closer to get a better view of the photo behind the cracked glass. He smiled at it, chuckling a little. “Hmm. Mom, Dad, and three kids. A perfect nuclear family,” he said.

“Looks like the 90s,” you laughed. “Check out the clothes.”

“Yeah, they probably went down to JCPenney to take advantage of the fancy photography studio,” Negan remarked. “Dad looks like an accountant, doesn’t he?”

“Mmm, I’m getting more of a bank manager vibe. Mom probably stayed at home when the kids were little and then goes back to work as a teacher once the youngest is in kindergarten,” you replied, now smiling a little too.

Negan ran a hand back through his hair thoughtfully and cocked his head. “You know—I was a teacher,” he said suddenly. “I’ve never really told anyone that since things went to shit. Kind of lessens the mystique,” he laughed dryly.

Your eyes snapped over to his face, one of your eyebrows arching gracefully with the question on your face. He laughed again. “Yeah, I know… hard to believe, right? How could such an asshole be a teacher?” he said.

A slight wince flickered across your face for a brief second at his words, as if you didn’t like the way he’d talked about himself. But that couldn’t be right… “What did you teach?”

“I was a high school P.E. teacher,” he said. “Coached some of the school teams too. Basketball. Football.”

“P.E.?” you repeated. “And you’re not even going to make a ‘physical education’ joke?” you teased him. “Wow. Are you feeling okay?”

He laughed lightly. “You beat me to it,” he said. He glanced back at the picture and sighed. “Should we get going? Lots of buildings to search,” he said.

You nodded and stared down at the picture for another moment.

“What’re you doing?” Negan asked, watching you take the back off the picture frame. You fumbled with the backing and then removed the family photo from the damaged frame.

“I just—feel like someone should remember them, you know?”

Negan’s gaze was fixed on you, flickering over your face. There was something so soft in it at that moment that you felt slightly unbalanced. You distracted yourself by bending to slip the photo into your pack. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said gently.

You deflected, laughing as you shouldered your pack again. “Oh, you’ve got no idea,” you said sarcastically, again ignoring the heat in your face. “Come on.”

The two of you went on, searching each home and several stores, working your way down the block and partway up the next. You’d managed some good finds, including a hidden cellar that clearly had belonged to a survivalist type (who had apparently “opted out” and his corpse still watched over the hidden entrance). You’d have to make a few trips to the car in order to get all the supplies and gear back, or otherwise figure out a way to get the car in through the overgrown side road. The two of you piled the finds in a safe place in one of the rooms on the main floor, stacking Rubbermaid tubs full of helpful items in neat piles.

“Fuck me,” Negan sighed, setting the last one on top. “Well, when you’re right, you’re fuckin’ right, doll. There’s always somethin’ left behind.”

You wiped at the sweat near your hairline. “Yeah,” you sighed. “Not bad.” You had a satisfied smile on your face. It felt good to do something concrete that would help people back home. You glanced out the window, assessing the light outside. It’d taken quite some time to get things moved up from the cellar and you wondered if you should keep searching the rest of the houses or call it a day. “I think it’s starting to get late,” you said, remarking mainly on the way the light already seemed like it was fading.

“Mmm,” Negan hummed, going to the front bay window and looking out. His eyes had been searching the street all day, vigilant, as if waiting for some psychos to suddenly burst out of one of the houses. But the only signs of inhabitation or squatting you’d found were clearly from long before, now covered in dust and debris or otherwise moldering in damp corners or on top of filthy mattresses. Now, as you were busy drinking from your canteen, Negan’s shifting suddenly stopped. “Hey, doll—I’m no meteorologist, but those clouds look like bad fuckin’ news.” It had been overcast all day, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that this was something else.

You capped your canteen and went to the front door, your brow now furrowed heavily to match his. You pulled the door open and peered at the sky. Ominous didn’t even begin to cover it. There was not a sniff of wind at the moment and the air seemed to hum with electricity. Negan appeared next to you in the doorway, squinting at the low and heavy sky.

“I’m pretty sure when the sky turns fuckin’ green, there’s some bad shit coming,” he said. He glanced over at you.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. “Yeah. Yeah, green sky is… tornado weather. Fuck,” you muttered, glancing back at the pile of supplies.

“What do you want to do?” Negan asked.

You sighed, pushing a hand back through your hair. “Even if we head back to the car now, we probably can’t outrun that… the old highway is FUBAR in some places. It’s not like we can drive 60 mph all the way back to Alexandria. And that would mean leaving all these supplies here.” As if on cue, the complete stillness in the air broke as a rushing wind approached like a tidal wave, creaking and cracking in the trees and swirling dust and dried leaves across the open ground until it reached the two of you standing on the porch. Your hair lifted and blew back from your face.

“I’ll ask you again,” Negan said, speaking louder now over the roar of the wind, “what do you want to do?”

You hesitated, glancing from him back to the quickly approaching menacing clouds. The little light left was fading fast. “Fuck,” you muttered again. “I—I think we’re better off weathering it here than in a car out there,” you said.

“I definitely agree with that,” Negan said.

“Once the storm clears, maybe then we can try to get the car in here and load up the supplies and get home. We’ll be delayed a bit longer than expected but—I think it’s the best move. Hopefully, we’re just stuck a couple more hours.”

Negan nodded. “Alright. Where are we holing up? Because this shit is about to kick the fuck off,” he said, surveying the street again.

“Here is as good a place as any,” you said. “There’s a basement and almost all the windows are intact or boarded up. Come on. Let’s get inside.”

Negan followed you in and shut the door on the wind. Your eyes were already on him when he turned around again. He was trying to decode your expression but it was largely unreadable. He unshouldered his pack and set it on the floor, taking a seat on the stairs across from where you were now leaning up against the wall. The ambient light from outside was quickly waning and before long you could hear raindrops start to pound the roof. They increased in size and then seemed to be blowing across the roof in waves of water.

You could hear the huge cottonwood trees creaking and cracking in the wind. You tried to peer out through the boarded slats over the window to see if they were dropping branches but it was too dark. Behind you, Negan pulled out a flashlight from his pack and clicked it on. It had grown extremely dark with the heavy storm clouds gathering and unleashing the torrents of rain. You were still standing right by the window, looking out, when he spoke again.

“Hey, maybe we should move away from the windows, doll,” Negan said, worried. He didn’t like how close you were standing to all that glass, even if it was mostly boarded over. His voice was deep and resonant in the space between you with just the raging background noise outside.

“Yeah. Maybe,” you said. You bent to grab your pack when you suddenly heard a loud thud against the side of the house. You straightened up, your eyes widening. Negan had heard it too, his eyes were narrowed, ears strained, listening. It was difficult to hear anything over the storm.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice breathy. “Some debris blowing against the house?” you asked.

Negan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, standing from his place on the steps and going to the doorway of the room the sound had seemed to come from. The roaring storm seemed to reach new extremes. The wind sounded like a train bearing down on the little dilapidated structure the two of you were sheltering in. Rain and hail lashed the siding and the roof. There was another thud from outside, this time on the window.

“There. Again,” you said, anxiously pacing toward Negan to stare into the room. His flashlight was still on. Another thud, and then another. You squinted, trying to distinguish anything through the boarded windows but it was too dark. Then, a flash of lightning shot the sky outside with blinding white and you couldn’t help the soft gasp that left you at what it illuminated.

“What?” Negan asked urgently.

You couldn’t speak. You just reached for the flashlight. Negan looked down as your hand landed on top of his. He could feel you trembling slightly and for a moment he was so shocked by your touch that he didn’t understand what you were doing. With your gentle grip, you directed the yellow beam of the light slowly to the window. As it came to rest between two of the boards and shone through the glass, Negan registered that there were walkers clawing to get in, rotting faces pressed to the glass, bloody fingertips, snapping teeth. Dozens. “Ho-ly fuck!” he exclaimed, jerking the flashlight off the window and quickly shutting it off. You and Negan stood in the dark for a moment, neither of you moving, now keenly aware of the pounding noise and dull thuds on the exterior of the house, cutting through the wind and rain. Were you imagining it or was the pounding increasing, getting louder? More frequent? Negan could hear your breath beside him in the dark. “Well, that shit was straight out of a fuckin’ horror movie,” he remarked in a low voice.

“Yeah,” you whispered back. “Where the fuck did they come from? It sounds like we’re surrounded.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Seems like they rolled in with the storm.”

“Maybe they can feel the barometric pressure changes or something. Almost like a migration,” you commented, feeling your heart rate and breathing finally start to slow down after the shock of discovering the herd.

Negan chuckled beside you and you heard him shift. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Eugene?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Okay… so, now we just have the storm of the century and a fucking herd to deal with. Great. Okay… let’s think…”

Negan finally clicked his flashlight on again but kept it pointed at the floor. “This place seems sturdy but maybe we should barricade ourselves better.”

You glanced toward the basement where you’d discovered the hidden cellar. Your eyes next drifted toward the stack of supplies. “Basement is pretty much ready to barricade thanks to that dead survivalist guy, but if they do break in we could be trapped down there for fuck-knows how long.”

“Not sure we have any better options. We don’t want to be upstairs either. We’re sure as shit not going out on the roof in this if they get in and if there is a fucking tornado and we're on the top floor—” Negan broke off.

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding. You dug into your own pack and pulled out a headlamp, quickly turning it on dimly. “Grab some of these. They have food and medical supplies, and some other gear,” you said, grabbing one of the many Rubbermaid containers and heading toward the stairs down to the basement.

“Man, I’m so glad we carried all this shit up here,” Negan joked, picking up a stack of two big containers.

“Sorry. Next time I’ll consult my crystal ball,” you quipped, but right then there was the sound of shattering glass and the storm and the growling got slightly louder. One of the windows in the next room had broken. Negan could see hands and fingers reaching in around the boards.

“Let’s go. Downstairs,” he urged you, his voice intense and thick with concern.

You started down, but shot back at him over your shoulder. “Aren’t I the one in charge here?”

“I don’t see you disagreeing with that idea,” Negan said, setting his containers down beside yours. “Stay here. I’ll go grab a couple more boxes,” he said.

“Whoa. Me stay here? What is this? You don’t even have a weapon!” you argued.

He gave you an exasperated look. “Fine. Then by all means, come with me, darlin’!” He turned and rushed back up the stairs and you had to hurry after him, one hand on your knife in its sheath.

“Negan,” you snapped at him in a low voice as you rounded the doorway back onto the main floor. But he wasn’t by the supplies. You glanced around and could see the dim glow of his light in the next room, the one where the walkers had broken a window. Rain and the occasional hailstone were puddling under the window among the shards of glass. “What the fuck?” You nearly collided with each other when he turned around and started back toward the door. “What are you doing?! Put that down!” you growled.

He had an iron fireplace poker in his hand. That’s what he’d been doing in this room, grabbing it from the set of fireplace tools. “Don’t you think this qualifies as kind of a capital “E” emergency?” he argued.

You stared at him, intense, your chest heaving, and to your annoyance, he smiled at you.

“Goddamn. You look fuckin’ hot as shit when you’re pissed off! I mean, you’re always hot but ho-ly shit! I'm scared and suddenly all tingly downtown!”

Your hand went purposefully to your knife again and you stared him down. “I said. Put it. The fuck. Down.”

“Doll, just hear me out—”

“Negan.”

Another crack and the sound of shattering glass behind him and you saw more arms reaching through between the boards of another window. “Okay, we don’t have time for this right now. You can stab me or whatever downstairs,” he said. He breezed past you and grabbed a couple more boxes of supplies. You had no choice but to begrudgingly follow after him.

He turned, straightening up as he heard your boots hitting the bottom steps, and he opened his mouth to say something, but you were already on him before he could get even a syllable out.

You kicked him hard on the inside of one of his thighs and he dropped sideways onto his knee. The poker dropped from his hand and rang out on the cement floor. You kicked it away and it slid into the far wall with a harsh scraping sound. Your knife was unsheathed and pointed at the base of his throat before he knew what was happening. To your amazement, once he recovered from his pained grimaces, he fucking smiled again.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. When I brought you out here, you said you would listen to every fucking thing I told you to do. This is your one single second chance. Next time you fuck up, it’ll be my knife going into your thigh instead of my boot. Got it?”

He gulped, still on one knee at the point of your knife and still, to your annoyance, vaguely smiling. “Oh, I got it,” he responded, his eyebrows lifting.

“Good,” you said, backing off and letting him stand up. “Now, go pick up the fucking poker. I’m gonna lock up the door…”

“Wait‚ what?” Negan laughed, still rubbing at his leg where you’d kicked him. “After all that, you’re letting me have it?”

“Yes,” you said. “This does roughly qualify as an emergency. Or at least, the border of one. But those kinds of decisions? They’re not yours to make, Negan. You’re not the one in charge here.”

He looked both stunned and amused. “That is becoming more and more clear every fuckin’ day,” he said softly, looking at you with some expression you couldn’t completely discern.

You gave him a perplexed look and then headed up the stairs to seal up the door. There were heavy brackets on the back of the reinforced door (thank you, dead survivalist man) and you spotted a thick board leaning up against the railing. Once you’d closed and locked it, you heaved up the heavy wooden slat and dropped it into place in the brackets, adding extra security in case the walkers did get inside and try to push through. As you removed your hand hastily to head back downstairs, a jagged corner on one of the metal brackets sliced into your palm. You jerked it back and stared as a long crimson gash began to leak fat drops of blood onto the steps below you. You pulled in a hiss of breath through your teeth. “Great,” you sighed, cradling it in the other hand and trotting back down. Overhead, you could hear the storm still raging, but as a low hum now.

Negan stood up from his seat on one of the containers of supplies as soon as he saw you. A concerning amount of shockingly red blood was dripping off your hand and onto the floor. “What happened?” he asked, moving closer as you attempted to dig into your pack with your other hand, blood now running down your forearm. “Jesus, let me help you!” He grabbed your pack away and dug around inside until he found a small kit with spare bits of cloth for bandaging, some gauze pads, and a few other assorted odds and ends for first aid. “Wait, I’ve got that alcohol in my pack. We should clean it first.”

“It’ll be fine,” you argued, pulling off your headlamp and watching as Negan clicked on a lantern he’d found in one of the boxes.

“Would you let me help you with this at least? Can I? Please? I’m asking permission now,” he joked, shooting you a goading expression.

You cocked your head at him and tried to look annoyed, but you conceded, taking a seat on a plastic container across from him.

Negan dug out the alcohol and poured a generous amount out onto your palm. You gritted your teeth together at the burn and winced. “Sorry,” he said, pressing a gauze pad down over it, holding it gently on his own hand now. “But better than an infection, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, feeling strangely on edge with your hand in his.

Negan used some of the long, clean strips of cloth to bandage it up and hold the gauze in place, tying it securely but gently before relinquishing his hold on you. “Should have the doc take a look at that when we get back,” he said. “Pretty deep. Might need some stitches on that one.”

“Yeah. Maybe. It'll probably be too late by the time we get out of here,” you said, finally sighing as you suddenly realized how tired you were. Now that you felt more secure and safe, a strange thing with Negan sitting a mere foot away from you with no dividing bars between, the adrenaline had run out. Exhaustion was starting to set in. You took stock of the space. Your eyes wandered from the door into the hidden cellar where you’d found most of the supplies, back to the corpse of the survivalist in the far corner, over to the boxes next to Negan.

He was putting the first aid stuff back into your pack when his fingers nudged something and he paused; a thick stack of glossy photos. He pulled them out, curious. On top was the first one, the one in the very first house that the two of you had talked about, but there were more along with it now—many more. He flipped through a couple until you noticed and shifted where you were sitting. His hazel eyes lifted up to your face. “These are all from today?” he asked.

You nodded and tried to clear the sudden lump in your throat.

“You kept them? All of them?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He sighed, shaking his head vaguely, and thumbed through more; families on vacations, some guy holding a big fish, a young couple smiling in front of the Statue of Liberty, babies and kids and dogs and cats, an elderly couple posing in front of a studio background.

Your voice suddenly cut into him. “Did you ever stop to think that every person you put under your bat, they probably had photos like this? Were in photos like this?” you said suddenly. A particularly loud rumble of thunder boomed and rolled, as if on cue. Your eyes, clear and steady and striking even in the low glow of the lantern, felt like they were seeing straight into his core.

He frowned. The lines on his face seemed to become more pronounced, and he almost cringed. “No,” he answered honestly, the gravel in his voice heavy and gritty. “I didn’t think about it at all, most of the time. I think that was a lot of what I was doing. Not thinking. I know that's a shit fuckin' excuse. It's not an excuse... but I didn’t—want to think about the hard stuff.”

You were curious, interested, and felt that same vulnerability he seemed to be giving you more and more rolling off him in waves. “Like what?”

He gave you a sad smile. You could hear the wind whistling above you and the pounding of the rain. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

But now you were the one to back away, ducking your head, avoiding his eyes. Negan saw that there was hurt there, deep hurt. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet,” you murmured, fiddling with the bandage on your palm. “I mean, I’m not…”

“Hey, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Negan replied, “you don’t owe me a damn thing. But can I tell you somethin’, doll?” He hesitated for a moment. “I—I like you. You kicked the shit out of me and held a knife to my throat about ten minutes ago and I still really like you. Genuinely. As a person, as a badass, as a—”

“Negan—” you interrupted him.

“If I had to be trapped in a basement with a corpse, a tornado and a herd outside, I can’t think of another person I’d rather be stuck with,” he said.

“Negan—” you tried again.

“No, listen to me. I’m trying to tell you—”

“You don’t like me, okay? You just feel that way because I’m the only person who really talks to you, who spends time with you, who brings you your meals, and looks after some fraction of your well-being. It’s like—it’s like trauma bonding, okay? That’s all it is.”

“No. It’s not just that. See Gabe was doin’ all that same shit and I still didn’t fuckin’ like him… I mean, not as much as I like you.”

As usual, when what you were feeling was becoming overwhelming, too many thoughts, too many emotions, you deflected with humor. “I’m cuter than Gabriel.”

Negan laughed and this time the sound was warm and almost comforting. “Yeah. No argument there…”

You allowed yourself a half-smile and then sighed, rubbing your hands over your face. “Fuck, I’m tired. What a long fucking day…”

“There are those sleeping bags in one of these boxes I think,” Negan said, starting to pull at the lids.

You laughed. “I can’t sleep,” you said.

“Why not?”

“Besides the insane storm outside and the horde? Uhh… I don’t know, you?” you offered, your tone a little sardonic.

But Negan’s face was perfectly serious. “The storm and the horde—can’t do shit about those companions and I agree that they are crappy house guests, but they’re not fuckin’ goin’ anywhere soon from what I can hear. That’s not changing whether you’re asleep or awake. As for me—” he tilted his head and gave you an appraising look, “I do not want to hurt you. And I won’t. And I’m not running away with the dickhole party outside so, you may as well catch some shut-eye. I’ll keep watch.”

You considered him for a long moment but finally shook your head. “No. No, I can’t sleep now…”

Negan sighed and rested the fireplace poker across his knees. “Well, then I’d say it’s going to be a long night… Got any ideas about how to pass the time?”

The mischievous sparkle came back into his eyes and you shot him a stern look that was apparently not enough of a deterrent. “Don’t—”

“We still do have those sleeping bags. I can think of some activities for a makeshift bed that don’t involve actual sleep.”

“Negan, there’s literally a corpse in the corner and a horde outside and that’s where your mind goes?”

He laughed. “Can you blame me? I’ve been in jail for, how long now? Five, six years? And trust me, Gabey Baby wasn’t giving me any action.” He paused at the look on your face, laughing again. “Come on, doll. I’m just kidding. Though it would help pass the time, you deserve far better than a sleeping bag on a dirty basement floor.”

“With a dead guy watching,” you added.

“With a dead guy watching,” he repeated, scratching absently at the stubble on his face. “That is pretty fuckin’ metal though,” he smirked.

“Negan, saying that I deserve better than that is really saying nothing. Anyone deserves better than that,” you sighed, standing up and pacing. “So yeah. I’d say it’s going to be a long night.”

[loveinhawkins]

“Still super jealous as hell by the way,” Eddie says; Steve laughs, elbows him in the chest—disguising a want to touch by shoving him away.

There’s a brief flash of warmth against his skin before Eddie teeters back.

He stays close though, dances in and out of Steve’s space as they walk, almost close enough to…

“D’you know what’s adding an extra layer of, uh…” Eddie clicks his fingers then says with relish, “Of batshit insanity to everything?”

“No,” Steve says, and he feels a smile growing; he couldn’t fight it even if he tried. He doesn’t want to. “But I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“My, uh. One of my favourite games as a kid was… uh well, it didn’t really have a name, it was more—”

“No jump rope for you?” Steve asks in mock surprise.

Eddie snorts. “Nah, nothing as normal as that, Harrington, honestly. Kid me was a visionary.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Steve says.

The words hover in the space between teasing and genuine; he means both, of course.

“At, um. When I was at my dad’s.”

Eddie’s smile flickers, and Steve tries to fill in the gaps: has vague memories of middle school halfway through one year, of murmured interest, you seen the new kid? He just moved here.

“Our place backed onto some woods, and I’d just… kinda wander.”

Eddie scoffs—his foot makes an aborted motion as he walks, like he’d gone to absentmindedly kick a twig and thought better of it.

Better safe than sorry, Steve thinks. Hive mind and all that.

“So your favourite game was wandering?” he prompts when Eddie goes quiet.

A tease again. Softer. Really means you can tell me. I want to know.

He wonders if Eddie can hear it.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds shit. And it was more, like, active up in…” Eddie taps his temple. “I’d just… uh. Pretend the woods were haunted, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Steve says, amusement growing. “So all this,” he gestures to the vines and trees, to the fog creeping along the forest floor, “is real immersive for you, then. Got it.”

“Um, no,” Eddie says, and his voice is going up into that wobbly tone that only comes from suppressing genuine, ugly laughter. “The stuff in my head was gothic, Harrington. It had class.”

“God, man, I’m sorry. Is the alternate dimension not living up to your expectations?”

“I’m gonna make a complaint.”

“Yeah, do it in writing. Make it professional.”

“To whom it may concern,” Eddie starts, all comically snooty.

Steve laughs.

And Eddie’s up close again, grinning, and Steve presses the side of his forearm up against his chest; the moment lingers, until Eddie moves back, until Steve drops his arm a fraction too late.

“I’ve found the experience provided—”

Steve snorts. “Experience?”

“—thoroughly lacking in both atmosphere and charm. I expect appropriate compensation as soon as possible.”

“Tell you what,” Steve says, “show me a picture of your haunted woods when we’re outta here. I wanna see how they compare.”

“Um,” Eddie says through the tail end of a chuckle. He sounds embarrassed. “I don’t have… My dad, uh, he wasn’t exactly the kinda guy to take a lot of pictures, y’know?”

And Steve doesn’t know—or at least, he thinks he doesn’t.

What he does know is that in the back of a cabinet there’s an old baby book: he can tell exactly when his grandma first began to get sick—and when everything else went to shit—because the milestone entries stop a third of the way through.

He doesn’t mention it. He can’t find the words, not here, not now—even if he could, he’s worried it’d sound a clumsy, weak comparison at best, self-centred at worst.

So he waits. Feels when the abrupt silence becomes less heavy.

“Did you, like, do speeches to yourself in the game, too?”

Eddie gives him a sideways, bemused look. “Maybe.”

Steve pretends to mull it over. Nods. “Yeah, figures.”

A pause.

“Uh, hold on,” Eddie says, chuckling again, like he’s been surprised into it. “You can’t just leave it there, man, you—”

“Nah, it’s just.” Steve smothers a grin. “Just fits you, that’s all. Like, you would’ve dramatically narrated your own birth if you could, I know it.”

Eddie laughs hard; he nearly drops his flashlight.

“You’re funny,” he says eventually, still smiling.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve quips back, “was I not supposed to be? Ruined your doctrine again?”

“No, just—” Eddie laughs again. Sighs. “Just timing, man. Wish I was finding out in a more, uh, low stakes kinda way. Like…”

His eyes go a little far-off, and for a second Steve can see that kid in him, the one who kept himself company in his own imagination.

“Like we’re just walking past the lockers, or something.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, with probably more feeling than it strictly calls for. “Anything beats these goddamn vines.”

He could add that there is no ideal timing, really: that if there’s one thing he’s learned throughout all this, it’s that there’s hardly ever time to dwell on things. It’s more do or die.

Besides, he thinks, you could wait all your life for a perfect moment, and it still passes you—

The earth trembles.

Eddie sways; Steve lunges to the side so Eddie falls backwards, away from a nearby vine. He tries to plant his feet, realises he’s inevitably going down, too, and course corrects.

Falls.

Feels the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his hand.

“M’definitely filing that complaint,” Eddie says breathlessly.

He turns so he’s facing Steve. Stays close.

They’ve both dropped their flashlights. The effect is dazzling—Eddie’s face is illuminated, eyes bright.

No atmosphere, my ass, Steve thinks.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie says—gasps, really. Steve feels how his breathing shakes.

There’s barely a disguise now; they’re both leaning in.

And for a moment, they’re not here at all; they’re just at school, hiding by the lockers.

Then again…

Maybe it could only happen here.

Maybe wandering—maybe everything—has been leading up to this: the moment before a chance taken.

[starzwithapen]

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ START A LOVE TRAIN

જ⁀➴.𖥔 ݁ ˖༉‧₊˚.

☆Summary: John Dory's first meeting with Rhonda and her owner, you!

☆Content: reader is gender neutral, first meeting!! Gonna make a part 2 exploring their relationship more :3

☆a/n: I FUCKING HATE HIM [affectionate] my first worrkk pls leave feedback if youd like it helps a ton!! :3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘˗ˏˋ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˎˊ˗∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The day John Dory met you and Rhonda was simultaneously one of the worst and best days of his life.

He'd been hiking- nothing out of the ordinary for him, maybe one venomous spider he'd had to fight off, but so far so good! The sting of the cold air against his cheeks quelled his thoughts, made him feel accomplished, in a way.

But he must've been distracted- he was a little more careless than usual, overestimating his own strength and struggling to pull himself upwards, his legs dangling over the edge- he could feel a tick of nerves in the back of his mind, but pfftt, John Dory's got this! He's done this a million times-

Next thing he knows, the rock holding his legs up collapses, and down he goes with it, tumbling over harsh terrain while the wind rushing past his ears drowns out his yelling.

After many very painful seconds of straight up rolling down this cliff, John Dory groans in pain, dusting himself off and pushing himself upwards, except- oh, shit, okay, ow, something’s very wrong with his ankle.

He hisses and grabs onto the skin, pulling his goggles up to inspect it- it appears swollen, and he realises with a frustrated groan that he'd managed to twist his ankle miles away from the nearest safe-house.

Well- looks like he'll have to camp outside for the night, wouldn't be the first nor last time, but it'll be significantly more difficult with a leg that refuses to cooperate with you.

He rushes through setting up camp, wanting to just sleep the pain off till his foot got better, but just as he sets his head down on the pile-of-leaves-that-vaguely-resemble-a-pillow, he hears distant rustling.

That's not odd- it'd be weirder for the forest to be quiet, if anything, animals are always trudging along no matter the time of day- what's odd is how loud the sound is, feet papping against the floor in heavy strides, coming closer and closer towards him.

John Dory sits up in a flash, suddenly regretting how shittily he'd camouflaged his camp- his eyes widen towards the oncoming noise, having just enough time to snatch a stick and hold it out threateningly, though his hands shake and tremble.

“Hey! I have a- uh, a really sharp stick, and I'm not afraid to use iiIIITTT-”

The stick goes flying out of his grasp, and he gets the breath absolutely slammed out of him as something huge jumps onto him, rumbling atop him and- eugh, was it licking him?! Was this how he died, after all these years?! Eaten alive by a-

“Down, girl- stop that, you're scaring him!” the thing finally lets up on trying to swallow him whole, standing back on its hind-legs and cooing at you excitedly, and it's then that he notices you.

“Gods, I'm really sorry- she's not usually like this-” you reach over with a grimace to wipe the wet mess of saliva and glitter off his cheeks with your sleeve, and all JD can do is stare at you, star-struck. One minute he was facing his impending doom, and now he was facing the prettiest person he'd ever set his eyes on, and though he's certain it's night time he feels as though you're shining the sun's rays straight at him.

You smile nervously and pat his attacker's leg, “She wasn't actually going to eat you- or at least I don't think she was? You can never quite tell with Rhonda.”

Okay, John Dory had lived on his own amongst nothing but the trees and mountains for years, so excuse him for not being particularly eloquent when all he blurts out is “John.”

You and Rhonda blink at him comically for a moment, and he feels his cheeks flush under his fur-lined vest. No one's ever caught him off gaurd like this before.

“That's…not my name, but good guess anyways.” You check over him as if he's concussed, and he tries not to frown at the scrunch in your nose as you take in his camp.

“It's my name- John Dory.” He flashes you a charming smile, though he assumes the effects are dampened by the mess of glitter and dirt still smeared across his face, “and can I get yours, or can I just call you mine?”

Silence stretches on between you both, his smile getting more strained by the minute- why hadn't that worked? That always worked, at least when Spruce did it! You were supposed to be- swooning, or something! Not looking at him like he's sprouted a second head!

You cut through the tension with a gasp, and he follows your gaze down to his badly-damaged leg, now with extra bloodied scrapes, “Oh god, that looks rough- did Rhonda do this?” He doesn't have time to tell you that no, actually, it wasn't your fault, when you turn around and scold your…armadillo? He feels his lips quirk up- you looked pretty cute like that, like a disgruntled parent.

“Well, you can come inside and I'll wrap it up for you- you shouldn't leave it out in the open like that.” You wave him over, grabbing onto his hand to pull him into the door, and he feels his skin burn pleasantly where you both touch.

And that's how it starts. JD walks inside the armadillo bus, Rhonda, marvelling at the warmth. Though you hadn't given him your name yet, he felt as though he could trust you- you seemed like someone who values honor and helping others, however bluntly or awkwardly you may go about it.

You wrap his leg with gauze and a healing salve, and he fills the room with chatter- it'd been so long since he'd last seen another soul, he didn't realise just how…lonely he'd felt. You don't speak much of yourself, probably staying cautious, but you do seem curious about his stories, and the twinkle in your eye urges him to speak with a little more pomp than usual.

Your voice turns more concerned as you ask what he'd been doing camping out in the open like that- he'd told you of the trail he planned to follow, though he'd skipped the part where he fell off-course. He tells you of how he'd wanted to end up somewhere warmer by the time winter really hit, sighing to himself. “I'll just have to stock up on fire-wood, maybe invest in a flame-thrower.”

“I mean….we can take you there.” You offer in a quiet voice, your gaze stubbornly set on the floor, “It's still a pretty long drive, but better than 2 months walking on a sprained ankle, especially with how gnarly it looks.”

John Dory's conflicted- the offer sounds heavenly. He pictures waking up to your warmth day by day, helping you gather breakfast, travelling with a companion, for once, but….he'd left to the middle of nowhere for a reason. He wanted to distance himself from his old habits, his old expectations of himself and others.

Though….you seemed to be just as- if not more- capable than him. He wouldn't need to be a pillar for you to lean all your weight against, nor the pressure that turns coal into shining diamond- you two could simply…have each other's backs. Maybe…maybe this could work out, at least for a little while.

John Dory tilts his head up and takes one look at your welcoming smile to make up his mind.

"Can't say no to your pretty face, now can I?"

This time you snicker behind your hand at his awful flirting, but he catches it just in time- and he knows this'll be the start of something great.

[11queensupreme11]

Hello queen, sorry but I wanted to know how the yanderes would react to knowing that technically Percy is considered a bastard girl and not a princess since Poseidon was married to Amphitrite and she already had sons and daughters with her and she is not technically a princess, her sisters are and she is not very loved by her father's family (amphitrite, Triton and her daughters Rhodes and Cimponela) And that Percy Poseidon technically "abandoned" her even before she was born and that she has practically only seen him like 5 times and most of them were so that she either went on a mission or had just finished Upon returning from a mission and that Percy knows how to fight technically, Poseidon, Apollo and Hades do not believe her capable of even handling a knife well.😆

THEY WOULD BE SO PISSED LMAOOO like "wdym the princess isn't a princess, that's not funny, don't lie to me 😡"

and yes, they ALL would be pissed. ALL OF THEM.

it's not just a title to them, being part of the royal family means a life of privilege and safety, and if percy was never declared a princess in the pjo verse, than that means she has NO privilege of safety. they really just got this girl out in the wild (new york) fighting for her life 24/7 LMAO

poseidon would be the most pissed for obvious reasons. he does not care if she's a bastard child (and also dare you call my baby that 😡🔱), she should be a princess in his eyes!!! she's better than all the other dumb kids his stupid counterpart has! and he'd be so pissed that she's fighting too, like his baby is supposed to be a princess doing princessy things!!! not fighting! percy's the star of all of these quests and she quite literally has no choice BUT to go, but he doesn't care, he'd demand someone else go cuz he's not putting his baby in danger!!!

(don't even mention the fact that pjo!poseidon's other demigod kids were born into royalty from the mom's side so they were all princes too whereas percy's really just that one Commoner Kid poseidon has LMAOOOO 😭😭😭 she's the peasant of the family 😂)

if hades had a heart, he'd be clutching it and having a heart attack. okay, percy's not a princess? fine, okay, he's not happy but whatever. BUT IF YOU TELL HIM THAT SHE'S OUT THERE FIGHTING BECAUSE SHE'S A DEMIGOD, AND THAT'S JUST WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A DEMIGOD IN THAT WORLD???? lmao he is putting his foot DOWN 😤😤😤 girls should not be fighting! they should be locked away under the protection of their family because they need to be safe!!! and percy's just a baby 🥺 she shouldn't be exposed to violence 🥺🥺🥺 (he'll deadass say that while percy's drowning a horde of monsters behind him 😭)

apollo is screaming, crying, and throwing up like "the love of my life... is a PEASANT??? NOOOOO 😭😭😭😭" percy: it's really not that bad--"WHY MUST LIFE BE SO UNFAIR TO HER???? NOOO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭" he'd be going on and on about how he would treat her SO well and give her the life she deserves, and she's just going all "please don't" but he wouldn't listen 💀

beelzebub already knows of this, she told him as much. she never outright told him that she has no royal title, but cmon he went to new york with her and she showed him the shitty apartment she used to live in 💀 it was very easy for him to figure out that she's a fucking peasant 😭. so yeah, the whole princess thing isn't a big deal to him, but he thinks it's unfair that most of poseidon's other demigod sons had higher status and percy's just That Broke Bitch 😭 percy also vaguely told him about the monsters too, but when he ACTUALLY sees how bad it is (+ quests + wars) he's gonna freak out and kidnap her away 💀

loki would laugh at her for being a peasant LMAOOOOO 💀 im sorry but he really would 😭😭😭😭 so yeah, he wouldn't care that she wasn't a princess, he'd probably make fun of her and get annoyed when it doesn't bug her. she genuinely does not care about royal titles so nice try loki 💀 he will, however, sing a different tune once the monster attacks and quests start rolling in. he'd be pissed and flabbergasted like "WHY do all these stupid prophecies keep involving you?! it's not like you're special or anything!!!" once it dawns on him that she truly is The Main Character, he's gonna freak out too because "holy shit hahaha this is kinda dangerous for you, maybe i should kidnap you away?? 🙃"

anubis would feel upset that she's not a princess (his nickname for her is "Tiny Princess" btw guys!!!! 🥺🥺🥺) but he'll just go "don't worry babe, you're still MY tiny princess no matter what they say!!! 🥰💖💖💖" and he actually wouldn't mind the quests, monster attacks, etc. he'd watch her fight and be like "woooooow she's so cool 😃" until she gets an owie 💀💀💀💀 then it finally clicks in his head that oh no she could die, and that's when he really becomes feral. he'd probably jump in and destroy whatever hurt her (let it be a monster, a random root she tripped on, or maybe some young camper accidentally misaims during archery class and grazes her). he's destroying it regardless and hauling her back to his palace like "*sniff sniff* Tiny Princess... 🥺🥺🥺🥺 are you okay???? 🥺🥺🥺" and she'd be like "anubis... i tripped on a rock" "I KNEW THAT WORLD WAS TOO DANGEROUS FOR YOU, I'M SUCH A BAD MATE IM SORRY 😭😭😭😭 💔"

(also, wait lmao, you know the whole lamia thing and how she set a curse so that all monsters would be able to sniff out demigods??? ANUBIS WOULD BE PERFECT FOR THIS CUZ HE COULD JUST SCENT HER LIKE IN THOSE OMEGAVERSE FICS LMAOOOOOO)

[followthebluebell]

Hi hi!!!! I’m super super sorry to bother you in such a stressful time but I have some things going on with a cat in my life and thought you’d have some ideas!!! My boyfriend recently picked up a female cat from his friend. This is his first ever cat, and the friend said they were strays he found as kittens and now keeps on his catio. The problem is that the friend said the female has always been kind of shy but explained that the two brothers were a lot more social and kind of butted her out of the way to get attention. So now she’s at my boyfriend’s house, she’s been there since Monday, and she won’t come out from under the bed at all during the day. She has been lightly exploring at night and has used her litter boxes a couple times, but last night she didn’t use them or eat or drink at all. He’s getting really worried and stressed since this is his first cat and I keep telling him to be patient. Is there anything else we can do to make her more comfortable or is it a waiting game? Do you think she’ll actually warm up or is she just going to be a cat that’s stressed out being in a house vs outside on the catio?

hello, hello! honestly, i'd rather talk about cats than politics any day. I don't know how to solve a country's myriad of problems, but i know cats.

so, it's really normal for cats to be shy at first, especially in a new environment. For a moment, imagine what it must be like: you are a small animal who's known only one place all your life. Suddenly, you are in a new place! With strangers! You're vaguely aware that they PROBABLY aren't harmful, but you're really not sure. Better to stay safe until you ARE sure.

It can take a cat up to three months to FULLY become comfortable in their new environment (tbh, it can take MUCH longer for some cats, but they tend to be extreme outliers). The fact that she's coming out at night to use her box and eat are VERY good signs.

So when i recommend is that your boyfriend spends some time on the floor. He doesn't need to interact directly with the cat--- in fact, I recommend he ignores her mostly. Just sit down on the floor with a puzzle, a book, a video game--- just anything that's quiet that lets him exist in the cat's environment for a little while. By just existing there, he can demonstrate that he's not a threat. He doesn't need to be there for like. a long time or anything. he can start out with small stretches of time and adjust as necessary.

She might start to come out slowly, but try to leave all interactions up to her. He can offer her little treats--- little bits of chicken (no seasoning; cheap roast chicken is a favorite, as long as it's the unseasoned bits. you can even just boil up chicken breast), temptations, churu (or anything similar) are all favorites and do pretty well. Leave the treats within her easy reach. As she starts to come closer, leave the treats closer to his leg or something. The idea is to get her to associate him with Tasty Delicious Things.

It's also fine if she doesn't eat the treats immediately while he's watching. Again, she's stressed and scared; she doesn't realize he doesn't mean any harm. She's just scared :( She's a very small cat in a very big world that's suddenly gotten a whole lot bigger.

He could also buy some feliway diffusers, but this can be a bit pricey. I can say that most cats react very well to them, but most cats react just as well to chicken, so let's start with the lower cost items.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

The Alphabet Of Inner Demons | Mini Fic Series

A young teenager's journey to self-recovery with the helping hand's of a team that is her family.

pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal x teen reader

summary: the path to recovery is not always smooth; there are ups and downs, and sometimes the battles become too difficult to fight alone.

warnings: heavy angst and mentions of topics such as self-harm, mental health, suicide & death.

my inbox is open for requests!

Masterlist

⟫ All that I ask is that you stay with me

Sometimes y/n wonder's if it’s better to leave the world.

⟫ Because I can't loose you

There's tense conversations while y/n in hospital unconcious.

⟫ Cos' sometimes sleep isn't enough anymore

Y/N can't help but overthink the thoughts in their head.

⟫ Don't give up yet, I'm not letting you

Y/N's confession leaves everyone with mixed feelings.

⟫ Even though some words hurt more than others

Y/N's detained in hospital but not everyone is thrilled about it.

⟫ For what it's worth, I'm sorry and I don't really hate you

Y/N slowly starts to be on the road to recovery

⟫ God loves a trier though, right?

Y/N returns home from the hospital, but it's not easy.

⟫ How can we help you?

Y/N can't see that the decisions made are going to help her.

⟫ Ice cream might as well cure my depression

Y/N is left with the conquences of lashing out but at least a sweet treat might cure things

⟫ Just know you're stronger than you think

Y/Ns' world is turned upside down when her estranger mother turns up at her door one day

⟫ Keeping her safe

Y/N is still shook by the aftermath of her mother's arrival but Leahs' not willing to give up without a fight

⟫ Leave me alone

⟫ Make us proud, kid

⟫ Not ever alone in this battle

⟫ Only the lonely

⟫ Progress is key

⟫ Quitting seems like the easiest option right now

⟫ Remember how far you've come

⟫ Stronger than you know

⟫ This is your moment to shine

⟫ Unbelievably proud of you

⟫ Vague moment of joy

⟫ We're proud of you

⟫ X marks the spot

⟫ You're gonna go far, kid

⟫ Zooming all over the pitch

© scribblesofagoonerr

[mayasaurusss]

Transfem Jackie in the wilderness??

The feeling of you.

Contents: female reader, transfeminine Jackie, angst and comfort, internalized guilt, detailed descriptions of feelings, exploring themes of transexuality, 3rd point of view from Jackie's prespective, vanilla smut, gentlia described vaguely. Not really thought plot.

Words count: 7k/ about 12 pages

Author's note: As you read, this is a transfeminine Jackie oneshot. I wanted to explore themes of self hatred in many ways. Since I am not transexual, I based myself on the expereince someone in my life had to describe various moments in this oneshot. If this might be offensive to anyone, please dm me so I can edit this work. This is the first time in an oneshot where I write full on smut. This might not be very 'sexy' then, so forgive me for that. This oneshot contains vanilla-ish sex, so it might not be everyone's cup of tea. Anon, I'm sorry for the several months long wait, but I wanted to be sure to write something in character for Jackie.

To make reading easier: the italics are charcaters thoughts. First half is from Jackie's 3rd pow and second half (from smut onwards) reader's 3rd pov.

Enjoy everyone!

When you joined the Yellowjackets soccer team, you didn't expect to fall heads over heels with its capitan, Jackie Taylor.

It was a rainy November afternoon when you joined. You had seen Jackie walk around school from time to time, but have never interacted with her this close, for all it was worth, you didn't even know she was the soccer team captain. You joined the team some months after your best friend Vanessa did; she had insisted that it was fun and it would build up your confidence. So, you have joined.

Vanessa had talked about your frail character with Jackie before you joined, telling her that you were insecure in your abilities, so, after the coach had tested you, Jackie choosed to assign you the substitute position of right winger. So, you wouldn't have had to play all the time.

Right before you got introduced to the team, Jackie had talked with you. A look of worry was visible in your eyes and Jackie, even if she didn't know you all that well yet, was slightly worried. For you maybe, yes, but also that you could potentially be more of a burden to the team, if you didn't do well enough. After all, Jackie needs to have as many competent people in her team as she can. You need to grow more confident.

So, she had taken you by the arm and led you to a secluded place right outside of the field's entrance. Jackie had looked up at you and smiled kindly, "Well, are you ready to go?". You had felt incredibly scared and apprehensive that day but when you felt Jackie's hand lightly touch yours, trying to get you out of your head, you felt safe, seen.

That was the first instance of your feelings blooming for Jackie. At every game, she did not ever forget to encourage and praise you for your actions. Even when you didn't perform well, you knew Jackie would always be there to make you feel better.

To her surprise, a year after having joined the team, you were almost a completely different person. Confident, strong and willing to stand up for herself and others. Jackie did have to admit that your change was more than welcome. She could never say it out loud, but whenever she saw you in the changing room, her heart skipped a beat. Of course, Jackie had to maintain her reputation at school.

No one, besides her parents and Shauna, knew that Jackie wasn't who others thought she was. Since she was a child, she had felt like she was missing a core part of herself. It was when she met Shauna that everything changed: with her, Jackie had confessed her worries and secrets and in exchange, got the help to finally become her true self. Her parents weren't as supportive as she thought they were going to be. Sometimes, she saw her mothers sending glances in her direction, which she couldn't decipher as worry or disdain; but she didn't care.

In an attempt to finally convey that image she built of herself, upon entering her new school alongside Shauna, she had seduced Jeff, one of the guys she found less ugly. She wasn't able to fully explore herself before jumping hand in hand with him in the relationship.

The first time and only time she and Jeff have had sex, she didn't dare to make him look. Somewhat, she managed to create an excuse to not strip and only get him off. It was a rather boring and disappointing night. But she hadn't left him, in a way Jackie still felt some kind of odd feeling when she was with him. She couldn't tell if it was love.

This is why she couldn't show herself shy when she was near you. She couldn't risk her image, people would talk if they saw her behaving in a flirtatious way towards you, and Jeff would leave. She knew he was probably cheating on her, but as of right now, she couldn't worry less.

Jackie feels her mind slipping out of consciousness time and time again. She can vaguely feel what is happening near her, bodies bumping on her shoulder and light dimming lower and lower until, behind her eyelids, she can only stare back at the darkness.

Shauna wakes her up, and she's not sure she's completely herself at this point. Her body moves before her mind can process what's happening and just mere seconds later, she falls hard to the forest floor. Just as her cheek comes into hard contact with the naked soil, her mind registers what's happening. Jackie looks behind herself to see something that shakes her to the core and will for the years to come. People, her teammates flooding away from the main entrance of the plane, all gushing out like droplets of the leftover alcohol of the red cup she had drank from last night, at their last party.

Jackie struggles to get back to her feet, her legs giving just as she gets up. Shauna is there, she holds her and runs her fingers on her face, tracing over the bruise that has begun to form. She searches for your face among the others and finds you clutching at your left leg, a scar running down your hips.

Jackie's eyes follow as Shauna gets back into the plane and a feeling of dread fills her heart. She knows that if she doesn't help Shauna, her best friend will die. When she enters into the crashed death trap smoke fills her lungs and her vision. She searches for Shauna, finding her fiddling with something behind her shoulders. For a second she considers slapping Shauna, telling her that she's an idiot and taking her back, but when she hears Vanessa's desperate sobs her brain is filled with fear and horror and something akin to bravery. Her hands brace on either side of the seats and summoning a bravery she didn't know she had, along with Shauna, Jackie manages to open a window of opportunity for Van to slip out. Once the fresh air fills her lungs again and her brain is awake, Jackie searches for you.

Misty had hastily put together various bandages that ran down the entirety of your leg, blood already seeping out and darkening the cloth. Jackie can't even register that she has you in a death grip until she feels your chest moving on hers in an attempt to get more air in your lungs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- '' her words get cut off as you push into her, already wettering the neck of the blue and yellow jacket she wore. Your throat bobs and tears fall from your eyes ``I, I'm scared". Jackie holds you to her chest, sobs threatening to leave her body, "Me too".

The smell of fire and pine needles filled the air around you, the tall trees shielding your view of the night sky. Hours after the disaster, you were surprised to find yourself enjoying your teammates' jokes near the campfire. You would have expected to feel this happy in another situation, but there you were: laughing in the dark night with the corpses of your old friends already starting to decompose back into the deathtrap. Jackie had insisted on sitting near you along Shauna. She kept to herself, having to maintain that image of her authority. Maybe she could be the one aiding the team to take a stand against nature. But in the aftermath of saving Van she had let her selfishness surge again and had protested against her cleanser being used as a sanitizer. She didn't mean to, the words left her mouth before she could understand the gravity of the situation. This wasn't what she was prepared for, her mind wasn't prepared enough to survive, to see the lifeless bodies of her own friends burn and decompose under her eyes.

Jackie had gotten silent for some time and her mouth had tasted the tears that were threatening to fall, but when she had felt your touch linger on her hand, a feeling of calm panic had washed over her. Your eyes stared into hers, understanding, saying 'I feel you, I understand you' and her heart ached. The fear was still clawing at her heart but she tried to subdue it in favor of quietly looking at you, trying to breathe through the hurt. Unbeknownst to her, Shauna's envious eyes had watched the whole interaction with anger boiling over the surface.

That night, Jackie dreams. She dreams of the last game, the leather of the ball comes into hard contact with the white metal of the goal and bounces back away from her and the other team wins. She dreams of a world where she and Shauna are now in her room, sad and bitter, but not here. Not on a cold night. She dreams of a world where she comes back to Jeff, he comforts her by kissing her cheek and whispering sweet, fake nothings to her. She dreams of him finally admitting he cheated, of a world where after months of sadness and thought, she manages to confess the strange feelings she has whenever you're around. She dreams of your lips touching hers.

If only... if only she didn't score, maybe...maybe...

The morning had come by fast, a pale light shone down from the trees and greeted their painful awakening. Jakcie had fallen asleep the night prior cuddled between you and Shauna. All the team had cuddled closer during the night in an effort to maintain as much heat as possible. The soil was scattered with clothes, remaining junk food leftovers, branches and the mechanical remains of the plane. And when she woke up, Jackie had panicked. As quietly as possible she had begun to hyperventilate, the reality of the situation finally kicking in. In an effort to keep calm, to get comforted, Jackie hides her face into your chest and lets her tears fall freely. In your sleep, you cling onto her and for a split moment, her heart bursts out of her chest. It feels like her rib cage has suddenly tightened on her organs and her body has been set aflame. She couldn't feel like this. She shouldn't. And why with you of all people? Why you, and not Jeff? Why you, and not Shauna? What is in you that makes her poor heartache, even in the most desperates of situations? Nevertheless, Jackie allows herself to feel and falls right back asleep. Reality can wait for some time.

When the bodies had been buried and were beginning to dissolve into the earth, a heavy silence had weighted on the team shoulders. At least they could rest in peace, for the rest though only chaos was waiting. Jackie had never been so scared in her life. So, when Taissa shouted that she had seen a lake nearby, Jacki couldn't believe it. Or, more accurately, she was scared of leaving. What if the rescue team came just as they left? And what if they didn't find them? She couldn't afford to lead her team into another hazard. so, when almost all of the team agrees to go, Jackie feels betrayed. It's stupid and selfish but she does, especially when Shauna raises her hand in favor of leaving. Without too much thrust, Jackie follows. She steps away from Shauna and walks with you, helping you move your leg on the uneven forest floor.

When she spots the shore, a sense of wonder and happiness fills her for the first time in hours. With her help, you manage to speed up to the lake. There, a realization dawns on her. She hadn't told the others that she was 'different'. No one here except Shauna knew. What would they have thought of her? "Aren't you going in?" she heard your voice ask her. "Uh, I- I don't know..." she stammers out. Her eyes widen when she sees you changing out of your dirty clothes "Well, I'm going. Misty had said that the water might cleanse my wound, but she never talked about lake water" Jackie vaguely registered your response while her eyes were still trained on your figure. "I hope there aren't any germs there" you lose the branch that supported your uneven walk in favor of trying to get out of your pants.

"Hey Jackie... I know this is weird to ask, but can you help me out? I can't crouch low enough to pull them off" her heart skips a beat and almost automatically, she starts to undress you out of your pants. She's sure her cheeks are a bit more red than usual. "Ah, thank you. Are you sure you're not coming in?" she doesn't know, she isn't sure. But she so, so wants to be there with you. "Uh yeah just, just let me change and I'll be there".

Jackie's eyes follow as you dip into the water. Vaguely, she can feel her blood flow in her body faster than normal, but she dismisses it. When she nears on the shore, as quickly and as carefully as possible, Jackie strips out of her clothes and watches for any unwanted gaze. When the cold water crashes on her skin, her body begins to cool off and that thirst she felt has been quelled. Now she reaches you and guides you to deeper waters, careful to listen to any signs of discomfort from you.

That's how you spend the rest of the afternoon: splashing each other with water, resting on the rocky shores of the lake and gossipping. The everpresent eye of Shauna watching your every move. When Lottie had spotted something in the distance, everyone had been on the move, hoping to find a new shelter for the night. And they did. The cabin was decrepit. Its roof was slightly slanted, vines and vegetation covered the wooden walls; but it worked. It could work. When she entered, a smell of mold and old plants had hit her nose. She found a can of green beans and when attempting to open it, her hunger preceding the thought that maybe she could have preserved it, she was greeted with the sight of many greenish beans swimming in a gray pool of liquid.

On the other side of the room, some of the girls are checking out one of those old sex magazines. Natalie calls out to you "Hey look, this girl kinda looks like you" and right then and there, Jackie crumbles. "Nah, she doesn't look like me! You have a shitty sight Scatorccio '' the team's eyes all gather to one point in the page, some let out whistles while others comment on it. "So, are you like this gentlelady under your clothes?" Van jokingly teases you "Guess you'll have to discover it yourself". Despite thinking she's above this, Jackie steals a glance as she walks out. And it's true, that woman did look like you, despite some differences. And now, Jackie has to deal with yet another problem.

She feels her body shift without her wanting to and heat spreads through her lower abdomen, begging to be put out. She walks out of the door fast and follows a trail behind the cabin. There, she tries to calm down but to no avail, images of you fill her mind and she feels her shorts tighten. Jackie lets out a grunt of discomfort: the situation wasn't exactly the most comfortable one to 'rub one out'. She looks back at the cabin, it's far but still in view: maybe here she can take care of herself with no prying eyes watching.

Jackie slips out of her shorts and starts to palm at her length. She tries to think about Jeff, about Shauna, even about her celebrity crushes, but nothing works. Everything morphs into you. So, when she finally gives up and allows herself to fall into your image, she finds that her body is already at the brink of release. She feels your hands stroking her skin, the tension releases out of her shoulders and your voice whispers reassurances in her ear. "Let it go" and she falls from her high, her legs give out and the skin meets the hard ground. Her gaze falls to her hand. Oh god, what have I done?

The afternoon lights had started to shine through the trees. After taking care of her little problem, Jackie had come back and sat on the wooden porch at the side of the cabin. This can't be real. It can't, right? Her heart aches far more than she realized. She doesn't belong here. She is angry, sad and terrified. This isn't real.

Regret, both for the plane crash and for what she had just done. Did she really jerk off to a friend in the middle of the forest, right after what happened? God, how could she be so disgusting? So careless? People died and all she could think about was fulfilling her own needs. Like always Jackie, you always have to be the center of attention. You couldn't even let your teammates have a peaceful rest, you just had to think about yourself huh? Can you even feel something, anything for others? Do you have anyone else in your mind except yourself?This just shows the utter scum of a person you really are. You waste.

Back at home, everyone always counted on her. She was the voice of reason, the one person who could bring different people together under one team. She had been the one to create the Yellowjackets, to care for them, to nourish them. She knew she was selfish, selfish and stupid, but she really tried. Jackie didn't mean to be this much of a fucking liability, but she couldn't help it. This place, these people, did they even think of her as an equal? Or did most of them fake their appreciation for her? She didn't mean to be a bother, trying to fix the old music player instead of doing the chores, but she needed desperately to not think. Please, for the love of God, get me out of here.

Days, months have passed and winter starts to tighten its cold hands on the Yellowjackets. All of them know. When winter comes, they might die. Every night, the last breeze of autumn comes knocking on the door in the form of the Grim Reaper, begging to be let in. To join the fun. For how much their determination is worth, nature has a sick way of playing with its prey.

They don't have to think.

That's why Jackie had hosted a seance in summer, to distract them. And that's why she decides to host a Doom Coming. Death is already at the door, so why not having fun in the last few weeks of their lives? And her life is just a mess. Jackie feels as if all of the world's faults weigh down on her shoulders. She's sad, bitter and angry: sad for Laura Lee and her unfair death, bitter at Shauna and Jeff, and angry at the world.

Finally, night has fallen. The sun is lowering down the horizon, the cold air nipping at the skin, but she tried to ignore it. The camp smells of leaves, fire and earth. It's almost calming. Laughs and wind and fire crackling fill her ears. Jackie sits on a log which acts as a stool and closes her eyes.

Right now, when everyone is partying, she allows herself to be vulnerable. In the months following the summer, Jackie had come to care less and less about what others might have thought about her if her secret came to be known. So her facade had finally started to crumble.

Jackie sat on the log, her legs spreading far apart, her back hunched and with her face in her hands. She knew the others would look at her and make fun or feel sorry for her, but right now she didn't care too much. A quiet whine left her body and trickles of tears staining her cheeks. Something moves at her right side and she jumps up to see you holding two makeshift wooden bowls. "Hey, thought of giving you this. You haven't eaten at all".

Maybe she doesn't want to. Maybe Jackie would rather die, her body to be eaten by the people she loved most and then dissolve into the earth, broken apart by nature and scattered like a constellation. "I... I am fine" she mutters into her hands, trying to mask her sobs.

"But you're not Jackie. You're so not fine; don't you think I can see that?" she's taken aback by your teary eyes burning a hole through her heart. You push the tears back in and hand her the warm bowl of soup. "I am scared too, Jackie. We all are. But at least, just before the end...won't you try to be happy?" and you know that asking her this is stupid and pathetic, but you too need to push reality away. And Jackie doesn't have enough strength to deny you. "...You're right", she takes the makeshift wooden spoon and dips it into the brownish soup. She lets the earthy flavors fill her mouth. "This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be'' Jackie smiles as she sets the bowl down. A giggle leaves your lips as you stand up, your legs feel wobbly and your skin starts to feel uncomfortably hot. "Say... you wouldn't want to have... a dance with me, would you?" words slurred, you try to pry Jackie out of her log and she happily complies.

Jackie feels strange. She isn't in total control of her body, her mind is foggy, her body moves slowly and lazily. She looks at you with lovey dovey eyes, as if you are a goddess on earth who came to relieve her of her pain. She doesn't even care that Mari's and Alikah's eyes are on both of you; as of right now Jackie only sees you. But now her mind is playing tricks on her: she sees you on her bed, naked.

"W-what?" and now that discomfort is back again, twirling inside of her stomach. "What is it?" Jackie can only feel her body stiffen once again, swaying 'Uhhh shit'. "I- I, don't worry!" but you insist with that look on your face that she can't resist. "What? What is it? Are you feeling ill?".

Shit!. "N-no I-" it's almost like her brain can't form any coherent thought anymore. Why? Why now?!, you get closer to her, an inch from her ear "Do you need something?" God damn it. "I need to- I need-" Jackie stops dead in her tracks as she feels your leg accidentally pressing on her groin. Shit! No! No, no, no! Why?! What is wrong with you?

You look down to see something puffing under her dress. What the heck was she hiding there?. It takes you a moment to understand what it really is, and when you do, you let out a small 'ohh' of understanding.

"Do you have something to tell me?" and Jackie feels embarrassed: embarrassed, guilty and disgusting. How could she have those kinds of thoughts for a friend? She's no better than Jeff, she's no better than them. "I am so, so, so sorry please, please I' didn't mean to-' ' you cut off Jackie with a shush, take her hand into yours and guide her in the forest.

You lead Jackie through low tree branches and vines, through bushes and dirt until you stumble in a beautiful clearing. Hidden between the thick branches of the pine trees, away from the cabin, the uneven forest floor becomes flat, the trees give away to green grass and moss and flowers. On the way, Jackie had noticed strange scrapes on the trees, like a knife had cut through the bark.

"This is where I come when I'm overwhelmed. I found it while having lost myself after going to get the water. You remember that day I didn't come to the cabin after dark?" Jackie nods, waiting for your voice again "I actually had been walking on circles, some feets away from the cabin I took the wrong turn and ended up in the wrong place, here." From your pocket, you fish out a small cutting knife, an old candle and a couple of matches you had stolen from Dead Guy's stash. "Luckily, I had this with me" you gesture to the knife, "If I hadn't, I'm not sure I could have come back". You let your things fall to the base of a tree, forgotten. "So," you say as you sit down and pat the ground next to you "mind explaining what that was?".

Jackie feels as if her blood had become ice cold; she's terrified, so much so that she's stiff and can't bring herself to sit near you. "Come here" she awkwardly lets herself lay on the ground with her legs tucked under her body and away from you.

"I- I am..." throat closing in on her words, she takes a breath and gathers all the courage she has left in her heart "I wasn't happy once. Before. I didn't realized it once, Shauna helped me understand. Sometimes I faked begin happy just to see the people near me happy. To see my parents happy. But once I started to put my own happiness before, I understood". Jackie feels as if a block of ice got stuck in her throat and it's preventing her from speaking clearly.

"For the time we have left, I will continue begin myself. I- I don't care what others think of me" and maybe that last part was a lie, maybe she does care. Every human need reassurance. But when she says that, she's looking directly into your eyes, with determination. A smile graces your lips and Jackie feels as if she has died for a moment and her soul reached heaven "I understand you" which is far better than any 'okays or 'alright's she has gotten so far. "Y-you do? I thought, I thought you would be... grossed out", silence fills the air and Jackie's breath hitches, waiting for the final blow at her heart. "You could never 'gross me out' Jackie, why did you even thought about that?"

"I really thought that you might-" Jackie's words die engulfed in your arm, her head cradled on you, "You are safe with me". Something in her, a cage, breaks into million shining pieces and lets her heart beat red blood into her flesh. Jackie feels as if the old cruel world broke and left space for a new, shining future, one she shares with you. She weeps into your shoulder, finally understood, happy, euphoric, free from her own self and from the world's expectations.

You let her weep into you for some time, the sky's color changes from the purple and orange evening glow to a light cobalt, the stars already starting to show.

"Now, I want to ask you something else..." your cheeks feel suddenly hotter, thighs closing in on themselves. Jackie listens to you, and you're suddenly very interested on your hands. "That... thing that happened back there... why? Why did it happen while we were dancing?". Ohh shiiit.

Jackie feels sick. A ball of nausea forms in the deepest parts of her stomach and reaches out to her mouth. For a second, she feels like she will throw up. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry I forgot, I-" and now, emotions and feelings of the past months come crashing down on her heart. And when she parts her lips, it is too late to stop.

"I... like you. I do. I've felt like this for a while now. Back there I don't- I don't know why I felt like that and why it happened, but t-that's not like me at all! I- I am-" but the silence that follows is enough for Jackie to stop. Right then and there, she knows she has lost you. "I should probably go..." she says to you; Jackie's muscles move to follow her torso but your arms hug her shoulders before she can escape you. For a moment she's confused and almost thinks an animal might have tackled her to the ground, but when she feels your touch on her cheeks, peace fills her heart. You lightly trace her small skin marks under her eyes and lean down to kiss her. In her eyes billions of stars shine and in her heart, billions of stars explode. Her body is lighter, almost made of condensed air. It almost feels like a sin when she touches your hand: like if her fingertips could dirty the beautiful soul in front of her. "I want you too" you say to her, a whisper. Now she truly is gone.

Jackie kisses you back with a passion you didn't know she had in her. Everything is forgotten: the dirt of the soil, the rotten cabin, the looks of the others, the touches of Jeff, the desire for Shauna, the desire to run from the world. Here and now, Jackie is at peace. Finally at peace, after months of hardship. Her heart beats and her blood runs, and she's happy. So, so very happy.

When you leave the kiss, Jackie feels lightheaded. A dark feeling inside of her screams to stay, to take, to devour. She takes you right back into her arms, clinging to you so hard that you're sure your bones will snap. The kiss becomes raw, hungry and dangerous; all lips and tongue and teeth. Her hand cradles the back of your head and with the free hand, she claws at your shirt. There is a feeling blooming inside her groin and stomach; she wants to devour and be devoured. You get rid of your clothes and discard them aside. Now Jackie can see you in all your beauty, skin shaded by the blue evening night.

It's getting dark.

"Maybe, maybe we shouldn't..." Jackie whispers in your mouth but makes no effort to stop. Your hands find her soft skin, you cradle her head upwards facing you, "Let morning come". Your hands find Jackie's skin underneath her dress and her breath stops, she tries to gulp down air in her lungs but they feel tight. Your hands are just so soft and she feels so good, so right here with you. For the first time in a while, she doesn't have to be in charge of anything. For the first time, she can be her whole, broken self without needing to be something she's not. With a trembling voice, Jackie asks you to help her out of her dress. The cold air hits Jackie all at once, making her shiver but she is too caught up in you to care. As soon as the dress is off her hands are already on your skin, touching wherever they could. "I- I want to..." but she couldn't find in herself the strength to say what she wanted, needed to do. Instead, Jackie decided to crash her lips into yours again and rest her hand on your back, atop the clasps of your bra, a silent request. The dizziness of before had almost worn off by the time you were bare before her. A breathy sigh left Jackie's lips "Wowza...", you couldn't help but let out a giggle "Really? 'Wowza'?".

"What?! I couldn't help it..." her words trail off when her gaze falls to your chest. Fingers come down on you, caressing and touching and groping at every inch of skin she finds. She props you up on her lap, trying to relive the pain of her hardness starting to show. It's almost embarrassing how desperate she is, her cheeks are flushed red, her eyes unfocused and watery. Jackie's lips circle your nipple, biting and licking and sucking and tugging at your skin. Jackie's length gets harder and hard by the minute, for every time her name falls off your lips. All the uncomfortable and guilt has gone, leaving behind something dark and primal. She starts to hump on your ass while continuing to suck on you. "Oh, I see someone is eager" and all that confidence she had goes right out of the window, her sober self comes out more embarrassed than before "Oh- gosh I'm-I am sor-" but she is shut down by your grinding down on her. "Who said you could lead tonight?".

Oh shit I'm so into this.

"N-no one..." her voice came out shaking with excitement, the prospect of the night and all the scenarios playing out in her head.

"That's right, you deserve a break" not as sexy as she would have wanted, but this is fine too. More than fine. She was tired of feigning leadership. Your hands fiddle with the waistband of her underwear, feeling around the skin of her waist. This feels like a torture to Jackie. "Please, I-..." she meets your hands and tries to grind into you. As teasing as ever, your touch skims right on her thighs, squeezing and stroking her skin. "Tsk, I thought you wanted to be taken care of. Maybe I should stop?".

"N-no! No, please I will be good I promise". Jackie settles back against the earth, her puppy eyes looking up at you with the fear that you won't touch her anymore. "That's what I wanted to hear". Finally your fingers dip under her waistband and pull, freeing her after what felt like an eternity. Now, the both of you are bare against each other. "What do you want me to do, Jackie?" after some thought, Jackie says, "I... I want to taste you... Please....".

Now you take her place, laying down on the earth. Jackie watches you with adoration while her fingers start to travel downwards. Her fingers part your legs and she kisses the skin of your thighs, just mere inches away from where you need her the most. You whisper her name, wanting her to get on with it, to please you. At that, Jackie dips into you. After months of desire, it feels like heaven on earth. Her fingers tease your clit, circling it multiple times before moving down. But you're not prepared enough for the intrusion. So, Jackie starts to suck on you. She's so attentive and shy it makes you want to cry. You ground on her face and hear her letting out a whimper, she's getting pleasure from this too. When you are wet enough, Jackie's ring finger teases your opening and enters. You have already done this before, but it pales in comparison on how Jackie is making you feel. Almost like a shock running through your body and a wildfire spreading in your limbs. And you are sure that if Jackie continues, you will combust on the spot. Finger flicking your nipples, tongue occasionally joins her fingers to lick up your slit, eyes always fixated on your face twisted in pleasure. You look under her to see her free hand stroking her length quickly, white wetness dripping from it. "I- I am about to..." but your words die in your throat. When Jackie comes up again, the lower part of her face is covered in your release, she's still stroking herself. "Please, please I need it, I need it" she continued as she came closer to you. "What do you need Jackie?" she whimpers, desperately humping into her hand "y-you please. Your... mouth".

You smile at her, reaching to tease her length but just a few movements of your hand are enough to send her over the edge. Jackie gasps when she comes undone, her hands tightening over your shoulder. "O-Oh God I, I usually last way more than this..." you snort at her, "Hm? Way more?". Her brows are furrowed, cheeks red with embarrassment "...ok, a bit more". You decide to stop teasing her and reach down, sucking the last drops of her release. Her moans encourage you to get on top of her, legs straddling her hips on both sides. Slowly, you began grinding down on her.

"Oh... I like this'' Jackie moans in your mouth, hands exploring every inch of your skin. After what feels like an eternity, you line up Jackie's lengt with your slit, sliding it from under you on purpose and meeting her hips. "Please... stop teasing..." she lets out a grunt, her hands rest steady on your hips and she begins to drag you down on her. You like this double sided version of Jackie. All her dominance goes straight out of the window when she enters you. It takes an unholy amount of strength for Jackie to not start pounding in you, and to keep herself from coming too fast. She pants as if she's shoulder deep inside a pool of cold water, shaky. It's the first time she has reacted this way to having sex. Usually, she could keep a cool, passionate demeanor but she's so excited to do this with you. It feels different from any other casual sex encounters she had.

You still above her. She has reached the deepest point she could, cuddled between dark and hot and wet. It feels too much to you and you rest your head on her shoulders, trying to catch your breath. She is so delicate with you, whispering sweet encouragements on how -"you take me so well", "You can do it" and "I like you so, so much"-. You're the one that starts to move, surprising Jackie who was still in the middle of her praise. Her breath hitches when she feels you move on her, slowly and methodically taking her to the tip and all the way back. This is perfect.

You rest your hands on her shoulder and hers rest on your hips, guiding you back and forth on her. The grip is tight enough that you can feel your skin bruise under her touch. "Fas-faster please..." you try to comply, bouncing on her faster than before, but your legs feel wobbly and uncertain. When she sees that you can't go any faster, Jackie trusts up into you and meets your hips with force, bouncing you up and down. "I-I'm sorry I' can't go slower..." it feels so good you can't really complain about it. Now you have regained enough strength to meet Jackie halfway, both of you lost in a frenzy of pleasure. She's loud, almost yelling and in the back of your mind, you are terrified someone might come and take a look, but another part of you is thrilled at the prospect of begin found out. You are a bit shocked when Jackie's hand comes down on your ass, but you don't complain. If someone walked past you, they would immediately understand what was happening.

The only sounds that can be heard in the forest are your whimpers, moans, the slapping of skin, wind and chirping and, a little farther, yelling and rabid howls of creatures that resemble humans. But that is not important right now. Your minds are too lost in pleasure to think that, in the dark corners of the night, something could wait for the chance to pounce on you.

Jackie starts to move faster than you can keep up. She moves so you lay your back against the dirt and face her. She brings your leg up and opens the space between your thighs more, allowing herself easier access. She begins to pound into you, faster and harder and sloppier than before. She has no rhythm left, no care, only pleasure and the need to relieve both herself and you in her mind. She grabs your leg hard, not letting go in fear that if she does, you might vanish into thin air. "I am close, I am gonna-" she doesn't want to cum, not right now: this moment should last forever. But she can't hold herself back anymore.

From the dark, a pair of brown eyes had spied on the both of you. Shauna was hungry and her hunger was so grand that it made her vision, her brain and the world around her blurry. She was chasing Travis, along the others but had been left behind when she heard sounds coming from behind some bushes. Her mouth had watered thinking it could be an animal but she got let down when she realized the sounds were coming from you. Her initial shock had been replaced by annoyance. She had so hoped to get something beneath her teeth, but to no avail. Then, hate had bubbled its way through her veins and into her heart. She hated you at that moment. The both of you. Shauna couldn't understand if she wanted to be with Jackie or in between you two. Sure, she thought of Jackie before, during the night hours but she hadn't dared to make the first move. And then, when Jackie had gotten with Jeff, she was hellbent on having all of her. She did realize that there was something sparking between the two of you after the first few games, but she kept quiet. She imagined herself, between bodies. Skin and sweat and kisses. She thought of taking Jackie's while kissing you, of guiding your head down, of bending Jackie over and-. Her stomach growled. It was loud enough she could clearly hear it, but not enough for you two to get suspicious of anything. That fantasy of hers would never happen. She retreated back into the dark.

Jackie is moving fast against you, hips slapping repeatedly up on yours and hands reaching every little bit of skin she can. From deep inside her groin, she feels something snap. She's not gentle with you anymore. Something raw and angry has taken control over her brain. Jackie slipped out of you and snuck behind, her arm lifting up your leg before entering once again. In this position she can reach deeper and move faster. She's being too hard on you. A scowl appears on her face when you try to slow her down by slipping from her grasp, "You- you will, you will stay here a-and take-" growling, her fingers grip at your flesh again, harder this time.

A knot snaps inside your guts and without managing to yell a warning, you release on Jackie's. She feels you dripping down on her. Your coming prompts her to do the same: Jackie gives a final long and hard thrust and leaves you empty, releasing on the soil.

She falls on top of you, spent "O-oh wowza. That... that felt amazing". You laugh at her "Again, 'wowza'?! It's not sexy Jackie" she mumbled something back at you and then hid her face in the crook of your neck. You're silent, now left with the remnants of your lovemaking and the constant presence of death looming over you. A faint trace of cold is coming out of the earth and down on you. "What do we do now?" she asks, embracing and shivering against you "Did- did we do something bad? What's gonna happen now? We will all still die-" her voice hitches. She's crying: tears fall down your skin as she nuzzles on it. You take her hand, tracing patterns on it, "We will manage".

Days later, when Jackie finally confronts Shauna, secrets get spilled. Of affairs, of grudges that lasted years, even of your lovemaking with Jackie. She had stormed out of the cabin: just like she feared, everyone had turned on her. Jackie watches the fire, cold seeping in her bones and her mind getting groggy. Shauna walks to Jackie, hand embracing her best friend's back. "Come inside" you say, your features and voice replacing Shauna's. In the back of her mind Jackie wants to preserve her dignity: walking back into the house would mean to admit that she had lost the argument; but staying out here could kill her. Jackie follows you, gripping at your arm tightly. Everyone is asleep; you lead her to rest on one open spot near the fire, finally hugging her cold body to yours. "Rest easy" and she doesn't need to be told twice, falling asleep right away in your arms. Next morning, it was snowing.

[mamawasatesttube]

"Don't leave" for timkon for the prompt list?

“Shit, Rob.” Kon’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the cast on Tim’s leg, eyes seeing right through it. “That looks bad.”

Through a haze of painkillers and exhaustion, Tim still manages to glare at him. Kind of. Vaguely. “Thanks. Any other brilliant deductions you’d like to share with the class?” Ugh. He’s tired.

Kon holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, whoof, you’re in a mood.”

Tim’s mood sours further. He’d had that mission in the bag, and then stupid Charaxes just had to show up and try to eat him again. In his opinion, that’s more than enough reason to be pissed. And now he’s on “bed rest” becase he has a “concussion” and “broken bones” and whatever else. “You try getting your leg snapped in three different places. Then we’ll talk about ‘moods’.”

“Jeez, sorry.” Kon raises his eyes to the heavens in an expression very reminiscent of Martha Kent. Tim kind of wants to throw something at him. Too bad there’s nothing good here to throw. Other than his pillows, but they’re soft. He wants to keep his pillows. “Fine, fine. I can take a hint.”

He turns away, reaching for the window, and—

“Wait.” Alarm spikes through Tim, and he pushes himself up into a sitting position, frowning. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Kon demands, whirling around again. In the blink of an eye he’s back at Tim’s bedside, easing him back down onto the pillows. “Lie back, idiot! You’re not supposed to get up yet. You’re still drugged!”

“I know. Don’t leave,” Tim orders, patting the side of his bed. Kon can’t leave. Tim doesn’t want him to. “I am so zonked out of my brain right now. I’m all floaty. I hate it.”

Understanding passes through Kon’s eyes. “That’s why you’re being a grouch?” He settles onto the bed next to Tim, and Tim makes a pleased noise and tilts his head against him. Kon’s arm winds around his shoulders.

“Yeah. And ‘cuz Charaxes is a jerk.” Tim blows out a breath. “I hate feeling floaty. I can’t think. Makes me nervous. So…” He tries to stay imperious, he really does, but his voice goes soft without his permission. “So you should stay here. With me.”

“Awww.” Kon chuckles, leaning back against the headboard of Tim’s bed. “Okay, bossy. If it makes you feel better.”

“It does,” Tim says. Kon is warm, and even if Tim can’t quite put two and two together right now, he knows everything will be okay if Kon’s here. He’ll be safe and sound, snug as a bug in a rug, and… there’s probably a third phrase that’d make sense here, but he can’t think of it. Whatever.

The point is, Kon is here, so Tim’s not as grumpy as he has been since he woke up. He’s just tired.

“Well, when you put it that way.” Kon’s thumb brushes over his shoulder; when Tim glances up, he can see a tiny smile on Kon’s lips. “Guess I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Tim says, and closes his eyes again.

[katsu28]

congratulations kait!! this celebration is SO cute! i am gonna request ☕️ + “You look stupid as all hell right now.” + hangman !!! thank you loveyyyy

lola my dear my love thank you!!! love you <3

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.4k, slightly suggestive towards the end, join the celebration!

“Babe, do you know where the box of kitchen plates is?” 

It was something straight out of your dreams, finally moving in with the love of your life. You’d been dating Jake Seresin for two years and finally made that leap, the last of your boxes making their way to your new home safely today. There was a lot coming from your apartment and his, but everything would find its place here. 

You could’ve had nothing and still be just as happy, because you still had Jake, and that was really all you needed. 

Except for he wasn’t answering you right now, and you really wanted to find the plates. So you went looking for him, calling his name every few seconds until you reached your bedroom. You found him alright, you definitely weren’t prepared for the sight you were met with. 

He was wearing a sweater of yours, definitely way too small for his broad frame judging from the way it cut off above his belly button. It was tight in the shoulders too, and you’d be a bit more annoyed at him stretching it out if you weren't so in love with him. He was grinning guiltily at you, hands propped up on his hips as he stood in the middle of a pile of your clothes. 

“I was gonna put all your stuff in the closet for you so you didn’t have to.” He said sheepishly, gesturing vaguely at the mess around him. “...Surprise?” 

You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him, so big your cheeks ached. “You look stupid as all hell right now.” 

“I think you mean stupid handsome,” He scoffed, arching a brow at you. 

“No, I meant what I said. What made you think you could fit into that, honey?” You chided playfully, crossing the room to get a better look at him. It was an older sweater of yours, a bit frayed at the sleeves from how often you’d worn it over the years you’d had it, but still soft and even cozier now that it had been worn in. 

“You were wearin’ this sweater the first time we met, d’you remember?” 

Of course you remembered. You remembered it like it was yesterday, even though it had been almost three years ago. 

You were grabbing a little pick me up before work at your usual coffee place one morning, and you spotted it on the pickup counter, the same thing you always got. Another hand reached for the plastic cup at the same time, long fingers curling around yours for a moment before jerking back like they’d been burned. 

The problem was, your gut instinct was to retreat as well, leaving the cup of coffee to tip over on the counter. The lid popped off, and suddenly your sleeve was cold and wet and smelled like…well, coffee.

“Shit!” You hissed, shaking it out as best you could. “What the hell?” 

“Oh fuck—” You looked up, and the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on was staring right back at you, blond hair swept up and out of his face, pretty green eyes widened in something akin to horror. “I am so sorry, I thought it was mine, I didn’t—are you alright?”

You should’ve been angry—or annoyed at the very least, because now your favorite sweater was stained and you’d probably never be able to get it out—but you weren’t. All you could think about other than your sopping wet sleeve was that his guy was clearly concerned about you. 

Maybe he took your silence as a not-so-great one, because he forced out a chuckle. “On the bright side, at least it was iced coffee.” He was trying to make light of the situation as he grabbed a wad of napkins from the dispenser, thrusting it out towards you clumsily. You thought it was actually kind of cute. 

An amused laugh bubbled out of you, and you shrugged, nodding. “There’s the silver lining.” 

“I’m Hangman—Jake, I mean. My name’s Jake. Seresin. Hangman’s my callsign, s’force of habit.” 

“Callsign? You Air Force or something?” 

“Navy, actually, and I’ll try not to be too offended by that.” 

“Air Force, Navy—aren’t they pretty much the same?” 

“Okay, ouch.” Jake faux winced, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again to see you were just messing with him. Then he smiled, shaking his head. “Maybe I could buy you another coffee, make up for the one that spilled? We could talk. I could tell you the difference between the two.” 

“Why not make it up now? We’re both still here.” You were taking a bolder approach than you usually did when it came to people you found attractive, but something had come over you with Jake. Even though he was a complete and total stranger, you felt surprisingly at ease with him.

Jake perked up at that, lips curving into a smile, but then he checked his watch. He grimaced. “I’m actually late for work right now, I’m so—can we raincheck? I promise I’m not tryin’ to get out of anythin’, my captain’ll have my behind if I’m not on the tarmac ready to go in ten.” 

“Ten minutes? Well what the hell are you still doing here? Go!” 

He grinned at you one more time before moving to hurry out the door, but didn’t get more than a few feet away when he skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to face you again. “Wait, I didn’t get your name!” 

“Guess you’ll just have to meet me back here again. Saturday, noon. Don’t be late.” You winked at him and he gave you a mock salute before dashing out the door, leaving you thinking about him the rest of the day, and until you had the privilege of seeing him next. 

It took Jake almost a year to ask you out after you met up that Saturday, wallowing in what he thought was the friend zone for the longest time until the two of you managed to get your heads out of your asses and see what you were missing. And it was actually you who told him you liked him first, murmuring it in his ear at a summer bonfire with your friends, but it was him who kissed you first—right after you told him you liked him. 

“Yeah, I remember.” You said softly, fingers trailing down the sleeve to the faint brown stain in the soft wool where the coffee had spilled. Jake’s arms slid around you, though a little stiffly given his constraints. “Look at us now.” 

“Look at us indeed. Havin’ our own place, putin’ down roots. Seems pretty crazy, doesn’t it?” He murmured, giving your waist a loving squeeze. You did the same around his shoulders, tilting your chin up for a kiss that Jake gladly gave you. 

Jake always kissed you like he did everything in life—confidently and well. They still had you reeling in the moments after even now, even though he’d kissed you about a thousand times in the time you’d been together—probably more. 

This one was no different, but something about it felt sweeter. Like he was less worried about winning, because he’d already won it all. Because he had you, because you had a home together. Because now you could start the rest of your lives with each other in this home. You could almost hear him saying something about having the best prize of them all. 

“Now take off my sweater. Your big man shoulders are stretching it out.” You said, patting him firmly on the chest a few times. 

Jake gasped, slapping an appalled hand over his chest. “Is this your way of tryin’ to get me out of my clothes? In the middle of the day? You tease!”  

“We’ve still got a whole house to unpack, so no, I’m not trying to get you out of anything. Except my sweater, so if you would be so kind?” 

“You could at least pretend to want me once in a while, y’know.” He sighed dramatically, letting his head hang. That was Jake, ever the drama queen out of the two of you. 

You lifted his chin with two fingers, fixing him to the spot with a look. “I’m sorry, was this morning not enough for you? What was it—one, two, three—” 

“Okay, okay, fine! You were yellin’ somethin’ about kitchen plates earlier? Let’s get the damn thing done so we can have more time for this morning’s activities.” 

“I swear, that’s all your dude brain thinks about—take off my sweater, damnit!” 

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[eitaababe]

˗ˏˋ WON'T HAVE YOU ! ´ˎ˗

din djarin x reader.

this is 100% self indulgent LMAO, based off of kanej from six of crows :) (maybe ooc mando?? it's my first time writing for him lol it might be iffy)

warnings — mentions of blood / injuries, shooting, typical star wars fights

─── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ───

You sat on Din's cot in the Razor Crest, desperately trying to get the whining green baby to sleep. Mando was off, collecting another bounty for credits whilst you were left here babysitting. It was part of the deal, after all.

He took you in for protection, and you would prove yourself useful.

Din had found you on one of his hunts for a bounty— well, more like you had found him.

You were being held captive by the very man he was after, and when you ran into the Mandalorian you quickly made an alliance with him, leading him straight to the bounty.

You told Mando little of your past, and he knew better than to push. What he did know, was that you needed out and could be a valuable assest, showing your expertise in mechanics and skilled fighting.

You would almost, dare say, consider the new arrangement, safe for you.

Which was new from what you'd ever known, always trapped and having to report back to the same place all your life. Without knowing if you had a real family out there or not, without knowing how much more of your life you'd have to live.

So yeah, you could get pretty used to this.

A sound of the hatch opening caught your attention, meeting the familiar beskar helmet. You were silent for a moment, trying to hide your excitement at his return when you noticed his limp.

"What happened?" You asked, setting Grogu down carefully and rushing to help him.

"Bounty." Came a curt response, and you couldn't say you were shocked at his cold demeanor.

You almost rolled your eyes in the vagueness of his answer, "Very descriptive, Mando."

No response.

Huffing, you grabbed a kit, handing it over to him.

"Thank you." Was his only response as he tried his best to walk normally over to a nearby table, opening up the kit.

Watching silently as he removed some of his armor (never the helmet, you came to learn), you saw him slightly lift the cloth worn underneath, a wound on the back of his torso. He hissed as he reached back, struggling to clean off the blood.

"Let me help you," you finally spoke up, being met with the stubborn look that you were somehow able to understand underneath his helmet. "Din."

At the call of his name he finally complied, handing over the clumped up rag, turning around.

With shaky breaths you dabbed the cloth in water, hoping to clean the wound up a bit before applying any bacta.

You moved slow, hesitant towards his bare side, the rag finally making contact with him. He jumped at the touch, clearly holding back any noises of pain. "Sorry," you mumbled, retracting your hand away for just a second. "But I have to clean it up before I can put any bacta on."

Finally being able to focus on the task at hand, but still moving carefully, you cleaned it up the best you could, setting the dirty towel aside and spraying bacta on the wound, practically wincing with Din anytime he jolted suddenly.

"Finished." You called out, and only when he turned, helmet almost meeting your face, then did you realize just how close the two of you really were.

"Thank you. Again." He breathed quietly, also aware of the close proximity. Neither of you daring to break away, you bath sat silently on stools, and for a moment, you swear you saw him lean just forward, his hand twitching to meet yours.

You find yourself caught in whatever trance this was, heart beating rapidly—

When the cooing of Grogu on the floor snaps you back.

"I should, um," you stumbled across your words, clumsily standing to grab the little one. "Take him. You should probably wrap that. So it doesn't get infected, or anything."

Only nodding in response, the Mandalorian stayed and watched as you walked further and further away from him, out of reach.

Once again.

─── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ───

You go weeks without addressing anything of the situation.

You tagged along with Mando in the next bounty hunt, leaving the ship and Grogu in Peli's hands as you stopped at Tatooine.

The mission consisted of someone who was associated with the man who once held custody of you— who on a technicality, still did. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't terrified of the chance of you having to go back to that life once more, but found solace in the fact he was captured previously.

You and Din split up, figuring secrecy was best suited for this mission. Stealth was always your forte, and clearly not his. He stood out too much with the armor, of course.

So you two went separate routes to the coordinates, as you took to the rooftops and Mando by streets. You'd kept him in your line of sight for the most part, seeing him successfully locate his way.

"I'm here." You quietly called to the comms, standing on top of the roof of the supposed building.

"Going in." He replied as you watched him head into the building, you looking for a nearby latch or window to sneak in through.

Your plans were cut short, however, when a bullet hits you in the arm.

"Fuck!" You cried out, crawling over to hide behind a large chimney. The shots fired towards the bricks, debris flying. You pulled out your gun, shooting from over your shoulder, taking the sniper out. "Mando! I've been compromised!" Not bothering to listen for a response you peeked in the direction of the (now dead) shooter.

You quickly learned that there were more than one, though, when more shots were fired from a different direction. You ripped off a piece of your sleeve and wrapped it around your arm for good measure on the bullet wound, and dropped from the rooftop to behind the building, shielding yourself from sight.

"Where is she?"

"I don't see her!"

You put your gun back in its pouch, opting for a knife. You followed the voices, locating them and lurking behind before taking them out, trying to find a way inside the cantina Din went inside when you were tazed, groaning in pain as you fell to the ground.

"Did you really think you would get away so easily, little bird?"

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the familiar voice, looking up to see the very face you hoped you wouldn't.

"Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled, and you were paralyzed, unable to move as he stood over you. "I won't let you get away, not this time. You'll never—"

A simple three shots ended his rant.

"Y/n!"

Your head whipped around to meet the Mandalorian, bending over to check on you. "What happened?"

Almost too much was going on for you to process, you didn't even realize the beads of tears that ran down your cheeks. Too much that you didn't realize how the Mandalorian, the very same, stoic one who mostly only spoke to either Grogu or to say thank you, the very same one who never let you get too close for comfort, was on his knees. For you.

"I'm- I-" you breathed, the floodgates rushing open. You silently leaned into his chest, and for once, Din didn't push you away.

"Let's just get you back to the Crest, alright?"

─── ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ───

After a brief explanation and some calming down, Peli left you and Mando in the newly fixed Crest, still keeping Grogu inside, both of you insisting not to wake him from his nap yet.

Still shocked, you sat down silently, doing nothing but staring at a wall. You were so numb that you didn't even notice Din taking out the kit, tending to your wound as you did his not too long ago. For once, the closeness didn't affect you whatsoever, the same voice repeating itself in your head over and over again.

"You won't get away this time."

You succumb to the thoughts of your head, still scared, despite knowing he was gone and who was beside you.

"Hey," Din's voice called out to you, your glossy eyes snapping over to meet his helmet. "He's gone now. You don't answer to him anymore. He's gone and he doesn't own you. You're free."

The words you waited to hear all your life don't feel as good as you thought they would.

Freedom was something you once thought was unattainable, something you dreamt of. But now that you have it?

It almost feels just as horrifying.

"You can do anything you've ever wanted to do," Din continued. "You can leave. Be free of this place, go wherever."

"I could leave?" You inquired. The thought of what you'd do now that you have a life that's your own and only yours has crossed your mind just a few times, and not in many of those thoughts have you thought about leaving Din and Grogu.

But would it be for the better?

You contemplate your decisions, would they even want you to stay? They were doing just fine on their own before you even arrived, they clearly would be just fine if you left. Figuring it was an invitation to leave you wordlessly get up, turning your back to him.

"You could also stay."

Four simple words make you stop in your tracks, and cowardly, you don't look back at him. "And why should I?"

"Because I want you to," He speaks, and after all this time, only now are you able to detect the emotion in his voice. You turn around to the beskar covered man, never seeing him look so small. "For him. For us."

For a moment you think he's talking about both himself and Grogu, but you understand that when he says us, he means you and him. And it should be heartwarming, it should make you want to jump into his arms and accept, but it only makes you angry.

"Us?" You repeat, and in a tone that chills him to his core. "There is no us, Din."

He's pleading now, and if only you could see his expression under the mask. "Please."

"And if I stay?" You push, walking slowly towards him. "How will I have you?"

"All of me."

You only shake your head, knowing it wasn't possible. "All of you, with a full armor of beskar every night. All of you, with short and meaningless conversations. All of you, with gloves on and hands I'll never get to truly hold. All of you, with lips that will never touch and a face I'll never see."

"My creed-"

"This isn't about your creed, Din Djarin," you practically whisper, scared if you talk any louder your voice will crack. And Din knows, Maker he does, that this isn't about his creed. It isn't about the armor that he's wearing but about the armor he puts up, about the space that he's put between you two and what he guards his heart with.

"If you think for a moment that this is about what you wear," you pause, and Din has never wanted you to see his expression underneath his helmet more than his does in this moment. "Then you really don't know me at all. If I cannot have you, truly have you, without the armor," you press against his chest plate with a light hand, and stuck in place, he doesn't give into the instinct to hold it.

"Then I won't have you at all."

─── ⭐️.

[basilpaste]

On Command!

(This fic contains depictions of panic attacks and also talks of death! please be safe.)

You can loop without dying. You can loop without touching a tear or dying. Why?

Better question: how?

You know you loop when you talk to the Head Housemaiden. You know you looped when Loop said something similar to her. Is it those words that trigger it?

Something is breaking. Something's failing, rotting. You sit in front of the statue of the Change God and think the words with force. Panic swells in your chest. You hate thinking about it! You thought you were free the first time you beat the King! That your friends would get to go and you'd be done with this whole thing. And then the Head Housemaiden started talking like that and it just!

You don't feel like looping. You just feel bad.

So if not that… what? What caused you to loop those times? Was it… emotions? You weren't stressed the first time you talked to the Head Housemaiden, though! But you still looped back anyway! You bite your lip — hard. Okay. Maybe you'll have time to think about this later. Because Sif just passed the statue and you have a schedule!

… You could ask Loop about it. You aren't sure Loop would appreciate that much. So. You won't! You'll figure it out on your own! It can't be that hard, can it?

-

You are in the House. In the secret library, thumbing uselessly through the same books you've already skimmed. There's nothing important here, not that you know of at least, but you still look vaguely at the pages. One of the books, shoved away and out of place, is on self help. A page catches your eye! Breathing exercises! Like Sif's! From all the time you've spent with him, now, you've found yourself doing them subconsciously. To keep yourself calm!

Hm.

You don't panic in front of your friends much, do you? Not genuinely, at least. You play up nervous embarrassment, lean into it when m'dame Odile teases you, but you don't ever actually panic. Not visibly, not in a way they can see.

What are you thinking? You'd already ruled out the strange loops being based on emotion because of the first time you talked to m'dame Head Housemaiden! Would it hurt to try, though? This loop is already a bust, after all. It'd be nice to not have to die.

… The tears have started to give you more nightmares than dreams.

It's not like it's hard to panic! In this situation you have a lot to panic about! You're pretty constantly stressed! You place the book back on the shelf and move on from the library, holding that thought in your mind. Panic… panic. You're trapped in a time loop. The end doesn't end it, the beginning never changes. You are the only one who remembers other than Loop. You have to watch your friends do the same things over and over and over again.

You keep moving on autopilot. You know this floor well enough to not make any dumb mistakes. Your head feels fuzzy, your chest feels tight! You're doing a good job at making yourself panic! If you never get out of this loop Mira will never realize how much she's grown. If you never get out of this loop Bonbon won't ever see their sister again. If you don't make it out m'dame will never really respect you and you'll never properly tell Sif how much they mean to you — not really. So you need to get out. But you're trapped. You can't escape.

There is static in your head, the back of your throat tastes sweet like sugar. You're trapped. Forever and ever in this world without change. There's no escape.

"… Isabeau?"

Mira. She's looking at you! Maybe you weren't being as subtle as you thought, huh?

You breathe deep. In and out. Staying calm under pressure is easy for you. You want to choke and scream and sob but you won't. You can't! You're the fighter! You're big and strong and reliable! What would happen if you weren't? If no one could trust you to be their rock!

"Sorry, Mira!" You rub the back of your neck, "I got lost in thought for a second there."

The static is gone. You're fine.

-

You stand in the room with the poem. You're not quite sure what made you come here! It's a dead end! Poetry isn't even something you're that big on! You like it, sure, especially love poems (which a Housemaiden in Jouvente once said were the lowest form of poetry. You exist to spite xem every day), but its not like you go out of your way to read any poems!

You're just… here.

That's all a lie.

You know why you came here. You have a theory. Not a strong theory, not a good one, but one you can test. The last time you tried to loop without a tear… you couldn't. You got close. You know for sure you got close but… you're missing something. You're at a dead end but no one else has realized it yet. If you coward out — you can use that as an excuse! Hah!

Panic. Okay. You're terrified of this! Of doing this! Because if it doesn't work the way you want it to you'll make everyone worry! And the idea of making people worry about you makes you want to curl up into a ball and scream! Because you're Isa! Emotional Isa, but never really scared! Only ever spooked!

You're stupid. It's what you convince others is true about yourself. You think… Mira knows it's not true. That's so scary it makes you kind of sick to think about, actually! You don't want anyone to see through you, to learn what a coward you are. Hiding everything about yourself.

Oh. Um. You're doing the breathing thing. Don't do that, Isabeau! It slows your heartrate down! Don't keep your cool! Don't don't don't! You have to do this — you at least have to try! You hold your breath. You know that doing that slows your heart but if you do it long enough when you breathe out it'll start racing! And you'll breathe quicker because you need to catch your breath.

People are talking but you aren't listening. You can't hear them, you're too focused on not breathing. On not being calm. Because oh Change are you not calm! You're so not calm!!

You can't hold your breath anymore.

Just like you knew it would, breathing out leaves you gasping for air. You can feel your pulse drumming in your ears and your breath coming out in short little bursts. It's not enough! It's not quick enough! They'll notice. You don't want them to notice you. You dig your nails into your palms, feeling them even through your gloves.

You've died. You've died a lot. It's really really scary to die and you don't think you've actually thought about it enough! The King killed you brutally twice before you figured out what you were supposed to do! You've gotten caught off guard by the strong sadnesses! Once you even managed to get crushed by the stupid crabbing rock!

There is a sickly sweet taste in your mouth and when you try to swallow you almost gag.

You're not strong! You're not strong, you're panicking like a little kid! Tears prick in the corners of your eyes and they sting.

If anyone notices they'll know that you're not what any of them expected. You're an overgrown child who can't protect anyone!

You can't protect anyone.

How could they ever trust you to protect them, to be strong enough to keep them safe, when you're acting like this!

They won't trust you.

You won't be able to protect them.

You can't breathe you can't breathe you can't—

There is a thread tugging at your chest.

The thread snaps.

[deathblacksmoke]

Cyanide | Part 2

Pairing: Nick Ruffilo x Musician!OFC (Shaun)

Summary: 2000s-era local band AU. Nicky meets Shaun — older, cooler, a better bassist, a little mean. She’s nonchalant. He couldn’t be more enamored.

CW: smoking (content warnings updated by chapter)

Word Count: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🖤

title and inspo from “cyanide” by creeper.

His head is fuzzy, ears full of static as he sits with Noah at the bar. His mind hasn’t cleared of the thought of her since 2 weekends ago. He hasn’t known a moment of peace since she stepped into her car and sped off, since he went to his mama’s in search of a phone book only to be hit with the kindly worded reality that searching by first name in the phone book is unlikely to pay off, since he went to their last show with high hopes only for her to be nowhere to be found.

If not for his vivid memories of that night — the sound of her laugh, the edges of her smile, the way her perfume smelled mixing delicately with her cigarette smoke — he would think he dreamt her. He’s humiliated himself in pursuit of her and still he comes up empty.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Noah interrupts, rousing Nick abruptly from his thoughts.

He’s sure Noah’s gotten used to his semi-absence the past couple weeks — around, but not all there. He’s sure he’s grown a little sick of it, as well, Nick chiming in every now and again to bring her up. He’s sure it’s a little grating on them all, but he finds he can’t really help it. 

“Do you think I’ll ever see her again?” Nick asks before Noah’s eyes light up with amusement, a vaguely annoyed fondness. He works to push away the shame and embarrassment it makes him feel. “I’m serious, Noah.”

Noah rolls his eyes, but his expression remains soft, “Probably.”

Nick huffs, finding Noah’s response wildly unhelpful. He wishes he never brought it up, that he could push the thoughts of her away and go back to normal. Whatever normal was.

“Why don’t you just get her number from one of her bandmates?” Noah offers like it’s the easiest solution in the world, overlooking the fact that if he knew how to get in touch with any of them, he would have by now. He doesn’t know a single one of their names. “I can ask Daisy for you if you want.”

Nick feels as his expression falls, at the first ever mention of this Daisy. Nick isn’t sure who she is, but if she can help find Shaun, he doesn’t know why Noah didn’t mention her before.

“And Daisy is who?” Nick asks, his tone edged with quite a lot more annoyance than he intends. He doesn’t correct himself, though.

“The drummer for Morning Dew,” Noah responds. Nick feels lost, and he’s sure it shows on his face when Noah continues, voice laced with frustration. “Shaun’s band. Nick, what the hell is wrong with you?”

He wants to ask Noah why the offer didn’t come sooner. He wants to criticize him for keeping it a secret, but instead goes for something a little more subtle. He decides to be reasonable for the first time in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he concedes. He figures it’s the least Noah deserves, after everything. “Can you help me?”

“If it’ll help get you back to normal, I’ll do anything,” Noah responds. Nick bows his head to take a sip of his beer, attempting to camouflage his humiliation as his cheeks heat.

She normally goes to Fallout on Thursday nights.

He stares at Noah’s text, up to the sign on the building, and back down to his phone. Wishful thinking has him hoping it’s the wrong place, but the chances of there being more than one club in Richmond named Fallout feels slim.

Noah had given him a very brief rundown, passed along from Daisy — it’s a goth club, so dress accordingly. He went for what he thought would be safe: black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots. He figured he would blend in, at the very least. As he looks at the groups filing through the entrance, he becomes increasingly sure he’ll stick out more than he ever has.

If he’s already so uneasy standing across the street from the place, he can’t imagine how he’ll feel once he steps inside the doors. His feet stay planted on the sidewalk. He can’t bring himself to cross the street.

He’s moments away from walking back to his car and calling it an early night when he remembers: she’s in there. The only thing separating him from seeing her again is a little discomfort, a few overpriced beers, and probably a headache.

Not to mention, the guys will never let him live it down if he comes home dejected and without even trying first. He remembers when he asked Noah for his help, when he felt positive he’d do anything to see her again. He still is, and he’s going to.

He feels wobbly on his feet as he makes his way to the door, receives a sideways glance from the bouncer checking his ID, and steps into the club. He’s left to immediately grapple with the glaring reality that this is not his scene.

It’s at once too dark and too bright, and loud in a way he isn’t used to. The unease on his feet has only worsened since he stepped inside. As he tries his hardest to find a single other person here alone and fails, he curses himself for not trying harder to convince Noah to come along. His scoff of absolutely not felt both firm and final, and even if he had been in the mood to argue, it’s hard to compete with the excuse of a 5 am shift.

All alone and out of his element here, he feels like he’ll be sick.

The thought of any alcohol in his system sounds like a worse and worse idea as the nausea starts to set in. The unfriendly bartender snarls when Nick asks for water, likely assuming it’ll cost him a tip. Nick slips him a $5 to get into his good graces, but it doesn’t seem to help any as he turns on his heels and makes his way to the other end of the bar.

Sipping what he was given and assuming he won’t be getting another, he sets his sights on finding her. He knows that he would recognize her anywhere, even as the strobes warp his vision and the thud of the bass rattles his bones. 

He briefly considers making his way into the crowd, getting a better look around, but he feels so unwell already. He doesn’t think it would be the best idea. He feels so foolish for coming here, for thinking it would be as easy as walking through the doors and she’d appear.

He hadn’t considered how creepy it would make him feel, like a stalker, underdressed in the goth club. He’s sure that if she’s here, she’s dressed appropriately, looks phenomenal — when she sees him, if she does, she’ll see right through him.

He can’t have this be the place they meet again.

He’s about ready to go, digging in his wallet for some extra money to throw in the tip jar when there’s a voice from behind him that sounds awfully familiar.

“Hey, Ant,” she shouts, confident over the music, getting the bartender’s attention immediately. “Water, please?”

The bartender — Ant, he assumes — doesn’t react to her with quite the same disdain he’d received. He wants to slip out without her seeing him, hide in his shame, but she’s so close behind him he’s sure he could feel her radiating body heat. It’s just his luck.

When she gets her drink, she doesn’t disappear back into the crowd as he’d hoped. She shuffles just a little bit closer, and God he hopes it’s not on purpose, but from the corner of his eye he sees her fingers drumming on the bar.

“You found me,” she says, and her flat tone does nothing to betray how she might feel about that. He wants to shrink into himself, or disappear completely.

He feels a buzzing beneath the surface of his skin that he can’t attribute to excitement. He feels sick. He has to leave, no matter the risk of it being the final nail in his humiliation coffin.

“I’m sorry, I was just leaving,” he says as he gets up from the bar stool and heads hastily for the door. He neglects to leave anything else in the tip jar, but it won’t matter, anyway. He won’t be coming back here if he can help it.

Before he can get too far, a delicate hand wraps around his arm to stop him. He burns from the inside out.

“You went through all this trouble to find me and you leave the moment you finally do?” 

He feels himself physically shrink. He wonders just how much she knows about the trouble he went through, how hard he tried to find her, how much it’s been eating away at him for weeks. He turns to her, meeting her eyes for the first time tonight. She looks perfect. “Daisy told me you might be showing up tonight. The least you can do is stay a while.”

“I feel kind of sick,” he confesses. He feels unsteady on his feet again, much more so than he has all night, and he’s worried he might pass out if he doesn’t get outside. It’s all a little humiliating. “I need to go outside for a little bit.”

She smiles at him then, and it’s the same dazzling smile he remembers from weeks ago. It tells him that she pities him, but there’s an endeared twinkle in her eye that makes his heart race. He’s pleased to just be perceived by her, and he doesn’t have it in him to find that embarrassing.

“I need a smoke break anyway,” she offers. “Can I come with you?”

He feels his hands shake as he nods, the same as when they first met. The overwhelm takes over. He didn’t actually consider what he would do when he finally saw her again, and he feels out of his element. Unprepared. He turns on his heels and heads for the doors. He can’t bear to turn around and see her trailing behind him.

He lights his own cigarette, not knowing if in his current state he can handle his lips touching where hers have. He suddenly feels like a teenager again, caught like a fish out of water and flailing. He wants to apologize, to say anything, but he can’t seem to find the words he needs.

“This isn’t really your scene, is it?” she asks, breaking the dreadful silence. She blows her smoke in the opposite direction from him like she’s used to being around nonsmokers. To return the kindness, although unnecessary, he finds himself mirroring her action.

“I didn’t realize how out of place I’d feel,” he admits. She nods like she understands and it’s the first time he hasn’t felt uneasy, like maybe she wants him here. He averts his gaze anyway. “I’m sorry if it’s weird that I came.”

“It’s not like I gave you much of a choice,” she concedes, knocking her knee against his. He feels so small as his heart speeds up, as he has to actively keep himself from reaching for her hand. The feeling that she gives him is so unlike anything else he’s ever known — to be under her microscope feels both like a blessing and an absolute curse. He doesn’t know what he’s meant to do about it. “I’m impressed you came. When Daisy told me, I was sure you wouldn’t show up.”

“I really wanted to see you again,” he says, deciding to go for the truth. It’s worked so far, no matter how mortifying it may feel. “I figured this could be my only chance.”

When he dares to look back up at her, he finds her already looking at him with that gorgeous smile he first fell in love with. She chuckles lightly and he can feel it everywhere. 

“Here, give me your phone.”

As he hands it over and  she flips it open, it really starts to sink in that he never really imagined getting this far. She felt like a dream to him, unattainable, even as he was doing everything in his power to find her. When she gives it back to him and their fingers graze each other, he’s set alight. He slides it back into his pocket — once he looks, it’s real, and it can be taken away once it’s real.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be home when you call,” she says as she stands up from the curb, stubs out her cigarette, taps the toe of his boot with hers. He looks up at her, knows he should rise from the curb and follow her back in. “But I’ll be waiting.”

She disappears back into the doors without so much as a goodbye, and he remains frozen in place. Her glance back at him burns itself into his vision.

Dizzy as he finally rises from the curb and heads in the direction of his car. Finally in possession of what he’s wanted this entire time, he feels more lost now than ever.

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